One of the topics that interests me most in the discussion of food is how an object or practice is viewed in different cultures. While food is an integral part of any society, each group treats their relationship with it differently, from production to process to consumption. These cultural differences were accentuated in our bento box experience. The sensation eating pickles made from items not normally pickled in today’s Western culture, the completely different texture of the Japanese cucumbers, Anne Allison’s description of the almost sacred preparation of the box compared to the United States’ more relaxed attitude surrounding the boxed lunch—all these elements made creating and consuming a bento box a very different food-related experience here at University of Washington than at a Japanese primary school.
Ann’s blog on the differing viewpoints on cucumbers in Japan versus the United States set the wheels in motion for me regarding my food profile. I wanted to explore the diverging uses and viewpoints of a food used in two cultures, one Eastern and one Western. The food item I chose—tofu—has a very different place on the table in the United States than it does in China.
A Brief History of Tofu
Tofu is manufactured in a method similar to cheese. Soy milk is coagulated, and the resulting curds are pressed into blocks. Tofu is widely used in both sweet and savory dishes, particularly in Asian, and is primarily added as a textural or nutritional element. Largely unseasoned, tofu has very little flavor on its own, and easily conforms to the flavor profiles of the dish in which it is being used.
Though little is known about ancient processing methods, evidence exists that production of tofu began in China as early as the first century A.D. Tofu was first made in the United States in San Francisco the late part of the nineteenth century, and the first American commercial scale tofu production factory, La Sierra Industries, was formed in 1929. Tofu became widely available as a product able to be purchased in the supermarket in the 1950’s.
Tofu is available in three different varieties, based on their texture. Soft or silken tofu contains the most moisture of the trio, and possesses a creamy, custard-like texture. It is most often used in Asian desserts or served with peppers and hot pickles, and is not often used in Western cooking, due mainly to a cultural bias against the soft texture.
Asian firm tofu is a second variety popular in Chinese and Japanese cooking. While substantially more firm than silken the silken variety, it is still fairly moist, particularly on the inside. Asian firm tofu contains a protective outer skin derived from boiling the soy milk during processing, giving it a texture and pliability similar to that of raw meat. This is the sort of tofu that the casual American diner can find in specialty markets and more authentically Eastern Asian restaurants, most likely in soups and vegetarian dishes.
A third type is Western firm, or dried, tofu. This variety of tofu has a dry, thick outer skin, and has a spongy, rubbery texture. Though edible on its own, Western firm tofu is easily crumbled, and often used as a base ingredient in processed soy foods. In Asian restaurants, it is sometimes cut into thin strips, boiled and served like noodles.
Musings on Tofu
What I found fascinating in my exploration of tofu, was the cultural divide between China and the United States in the way the societies utilize the product in their cooking. In the US, tofu is primarily thought of as a vegetarian-only foodstuff, with the average American having little to no tofu-to-palate contact throughout their entire life. I spent six years as a vegetarian, and listened to endless taunts from my family, all assuming that the only thing I ever ate was tofu. When I came home to visit, there would always be a block of it sitting in their refrigerator, and my mother would anxiously await to see what disgusting, meat-free concoctions I was going to prepare with it.
In reality, even as a vegetarian, I rarely ate tofu outside of Asian restaurants. I did however, eat a lot of soy-based products, many of which used dried tofu as a base ingredient. These processed foods had all been re-formed and flavors added to make it look and taste like meat. All of them had clever names such as soysages, chik’n patties, riblets that implied they were nearly indistinguishable from meat. Most of my vegetarian friends also eat their tofu in a similar manner. Even vegetarians cannot seem to get past the stigma that tofu is a lesser replacement for meat. They may be ideologically opposed to consumption of animals, but still desire to eat foods that (theoretically) taste like an animal product.
In China, however, while tofu is often served in a dish instead of meat, it is not thought of solely as a meat substitute. Indeed, many Asian dishes contain both meat and tofu. It is also used in a variety of desserts; the silken variety is excellent for custards and panna cotta-like dishes. Eating this creamy type of tofu is definitely an acquired taste for an American palate, as the mushy texture it possesses has been culturally engrained in Western recipes as unpleasant and overcooked.
Tofu is also processed and sold to the Chinese people in a variety of methods that would not sell in the United States. Dried tofu is allowed to ferment and is then pickled in salt water and vinegar, and eaten as is, or as a condiment for rice or noodles. Soft tofu is fermented in a fish and vegetable brine to create stinky tofu. This variety possesses an earthy, almost rotten scent, and forms a thick, crispy rind on the outside. It is also eaten as is, served with a hot and salty sauce.
Personally, I do not think I am in alone in thinking that eating tofu that smells like moldy cheese is unfathomable. Even though, I am aware of the culinary values of tofu, I still have a tendency to think of it as something undesirable, or something that I’ll eat if there aren’t any good beef or chicken dishes on the menu. I have a feeling there are a lot of bricks of Asian firm tofu sitting unloved in refrigerators all over the United States, with the hapless parents of vegetarians unaware that their children are nearly as culturally opposed to tofu as they are.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Recipe #6: My Week of (Processed) Meats (P)
The Experience
The world of processed food is a fascinating one. It is entirely possible to subsist off food that isn't really food at all, or has been processed to the point that it no longer resembles the original product. Ingredient lists are long and chock full of unrecognizable chemical formulas--my general thinking is the more "x's" in the name of the ingredient, the less likely it is to have been made from something edible.
While I don't shy away from food because of fat content or calories, I am fairly health conscious and eat as little processed food as possible, especially processed meat. But the fat, sodium and calorie content of these foods defies the imagination. For my blog this week, I had decided originally to eat nothing but processed foods, but I quickly amended it to eating one processed food a day. I simply couldn't fathom wasting all those fat grams on food that doesn't enhance my life in some way.
The following is a partial description of the foods I ate each day and the related experiences. Unfortunately, I didn't save all my labels, so I'm going to look up the nutritional information online and add it when editing for my portfolio. One thing of note is that nearly everything I ate had some sort of near immediate physical repercussion--indigestion, heartburn, water-retention, headache, an allergic reaction to MSG, etc. It seems the human body wants to reject much of this non-food as soon as possible.
Monday: Lean Pocket--Sausage and Pepperoni Pizza (7 grams of fat, 280 calories)
Originally, I set out to eat a standard Hot Pocket, but one small pizza pocket contained 23 grams of fat, and I knew I'd have to eat two of them to feel full. Instead, I opted for the Lean Pocket. I cooked them in slid them into cardboard sleeve designed to keep the pocket crispy and microwaved for 90 seconds. The sleeve did very little to keep it crisp, it was limp and some sort of murky tomato cheese sauce was leaking out of the end. In addition to the soggy crust, the inside was the temperature of molten lava and had a definite gluey texture. Everything tasted like salt. The sausage actually evaporated the minute it hit my tongue, and the pepperoni was awfully greasy for something that advertised itself as lean. I had prepared two of these, but I was barely able to finish one.
Tuesday: Quizno's Chicken Carbonara (19 grams of fat, 630 calories, 1830 mg of sodium)
I will admit to have eaten a sandwich from Quizno's on more than one occasion, but my tendency is to stick to a turkey with mustard on wheat, or something else of their lean menu. This time I ordered a chicken carbonara--chicken, bacon, mozzarella, mushrooms, Creamy Bacon Alfredo Sauce on wheat bread. When I looked up the nutritional information at home, I was actually surprised at fat and calorie content: I thought they would be much higher.
The sub itself was actually quite tasty, although the grilled chicken had that spongy re-formed texture that processed meat seems to possess. Again, the primary flavor was salt--there were 4 strips of bacon on it and the sauce was basically just salt in a liquid form with an emulsifier added to make it creamy (and a little offputting). Overall, the consuming experience was not so bad, but the extreme amount of sodium made me feel heavy and slow for the rest of the day.
Wednesday: Cool Whip (0 grams of fat, 20 calories)
This was by far the most disgusting thing I ate all week. I spit it out into the sink. It had an unbelievably fluffy texture that didn't break down when it hit your tongue, and tasted to me how a urinal cake or moth ball smells. I don't think there was an actual food item listed in the ingredidents. Yuck.
Thursday: Ramen soup--chicken flavor (14 grams of fat, 540 calories)
The world of processed food is a fascinating one. It is entirely possible to subsist off food that isn't really food at all, or has been processed to the point that it no longer resembles the original product. Ingredient lists are long and chock full of unrecognizable chemical formulas--my general thinking is the more "x's" in the name of the ingredient, the less likely it is to have been made from something edible.
While I don't shy away from food because of fat content or calories, I am fairly health conscious and eat as little processed food as possible, especially processed meat. But the fat, sodium and calorie content of these foods defies the imagination. For my blog this week, I had decided originally to eat nothing but processed foods, but I quickly amended it to eating one processed food a day. I simply couldn't fathom wasting all those fat grams on food that doesn't enhance my life in some way.
The following is a partial description of the foods I ate each day and the related experiences. Unfortunately, I didn't save all my labels, so I'm going to look up the nutritional information online and add it when editing for my portfolio. One thing of note is that nearly everything I ate had some sort of near immediate physical repercussion--indigestion, heartburn, water-retention, headache, an allergic reaction to MSG, etc. It seems the human body wants to reject much of this non-food as soon as possible.
Monday: Lean Pocket--Sausage and Pepperoni Pizza (7 grams of fat, 280 calories)
Originally, I set out to eat a standard Hot Pocket, but one small pizza pocket contained 23 grams of fat, and I knew I'd have to eat two of them to feel full. Instead, I opted for the Lean Pocket. I cooked them in slid them into cardboard sleeve designed to keep the pocket crispy and microwaved for 90 seconds. The sleeve did very little to keep it crisp, it was limp and some sort of murky tomato cheese sauce was leaking out of the end. In addition to the soggy crust, the inside was the temperature of molten lava and had a definite gluey texture. Everything tasted like salt. The sausage actually evaporated the minute it hit my tongue, and the pepperoni was awfully greasy for something that advertised itself as lean. I had prepared two of these, but I was barely able to finish one.
Tuesday: Quizno's Chicken Carbonara (19 grams of fat, 630 calories, 1830 mg of sodium)
I will admit to have eaten a sandwich from Quizno's on more than one occasion, but my tendency is to stick to a turkey with mustard on wheat, or something else of their lean menu. This time I ordered a chicken carbonara--chicken, bacon, mozzarella, mushrooms, Creamy Bacon Alfredo Sauce on wheat bread. When I looked up the nutritional information at home, I was actually surprised at fat and calorie content: I thought they would be much higher.
The sub itself was actually quite tasty, although the grilled chicken had that spongy re-formed texture that processed meat seems to possess. Again, the primary flavor was salt--there were 4 strips of bacon on it and the sauce was basically just salt in a liquid form with an emulsifier added to make it creamy (and a little offputting). Overall, the consuming experience was not so bad, but the extreme amount of sodium made me feel heavy and slow for the rest of the day.
Wednesday: Cool Whip (0 grams of fat, 20 calories)
This was by far the most disgusting thing I ate all week. I spit it out into the sink. It had an unbelievably fluffy texture that didn't break down when it hit your tongue, and tasted to me how a urinal cake or moth ball smells. I don't think there was an actual food item listed in the ingredidents. Yuck.
Thursday: Ramen soup--chicken flavor (14 grams of fat, 540 calories)
It had probably been 10 years or more since I had eaten ramen soup, and I was really taken back by the nutrional label--it was listed as only 7 grams of fat and 270 calories, but then it stated the tiny package was two servings! It was really hot that day, and the thought of eating soup was not that appealing; in general, I don't care for hot liquids, anyway. But I was game and broke up my noodles into the hot water and added the flavor packet. Immediately upon hitting the water, the noodles gave off the smell of old oil. The flavor packet contained turmeric, as Chad noted, and the broth was too yellow--it reminded me more of pee than chicken broth in appearance. Once the flavor packet was added, the prevailing scent was that of salt yet again. The ingredients stained the cup flourescent yellow, and there was a bubbly, greasy sheen on the top of the soup.
The noodles actually tasted pretty good until they got to soggy for my palate, but the chicken broth was horrible. It burned my tongue and throat, and not because it was too hot; I think it may have been some sort of chemical burn. It was also the saltiest of the sodium-laced items I ate during the week. I abandoned the broth after about two sips, but I still had an almost immediate MSG reaction. I think the rest of the class did, as well, because the energy level and conversational spirit dropped palpably after we ate the soup.
Friday: Aidell's Chicken and Portobello Mushroom Sausage (9 grams of fat, 180 calories)
Sausage is always a dicey experience for me, and I was especially skeptical of these as they were packaged pre-cooked. I heated them in the microwave and served them on fluffy white buns with Hidden Valley Reduced Fat Ranch dressing. Again, flavor-wise they were not bad (salt again), but the texture was highly unpleasant; the casing was extremely chewy and the sausage was gristly. Since I don't usually think of chicken as gristly, it made me begin to wonder what cuts of meat Aidell used in her sausage, and quickly abandoned it after one bite.
Saturday: Foster Farms Honey Roasted Turkey Cold Cuts (0 grams of fat, 25 calories per slice)
I had lots of fluffy white buns left over from the failed sausage experiment, so I used them to make sandwiches with processed pepper jack cheese and more ranch dressing. I cheated and added some raw spinach. While the lunch meat still had the creepy processed and re-formed into a meat log texture, the flavor was pretty good--smoky, sweet, and not too salty. I must admit, unlike the other items, I didn't toss or give away what was leftover, and have in fact eaten several sandwiches. I still wouldn't buy it again, though.
The Experiment
Sunday: Spam, and "Cheese" Sandwich on an English Muffin (Spam 16 grams of fat, 360 calories; Kraft Swiss "cheese" 4.5 grams of fat, 120 calories)
2 slices Spam
1 slice Kraft Singles Swiss cheese
1 English muffin
Up until this point in my experiment I managed to consume all of these foods without actually cooking, so I decided for the final day that I would cook something. The Spam was terrifying; after popping the top, it slid out of the container with wet plop, and the outside was slimy and gelatinous. Somehow I managed to slice off two pieces from the loaf (so probably 32 grams of fat) and placed in a pan that I sprayed with Pam for maximum processed food experience. I fried the Spam until it was browned on both sides, flipping it over after about 5 minutes. Next I placed the cheese on top while the meat was still in the pan so that it would melt (it had the same gluey consistency as the Lean Pocket cheese sauce). Finally, I placed it on an English muffin, and forced myself to eat the whole salty, slimy thing. It wasn't pretty. Never in my life have I experienced something so far removed from the animal it was once part of, and I'm fairly sure the ghastly aftertaste was animal cruelty.
On Monday, I'm eating nothing but vegetables and water.
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Final Paper Free Write
I plan to write my food exploration paper on tofu. While I don't dislike tofu, I do find that I don't eat it very often--even if I'm cooking for vegetarian friends, I tend to veer my recipes to more vegetable oriented dishes, and use beans or peanuts as a protein substitue, particulary when making Asian food.
I'm interested in the origins of tofu, it's inception, and basic uses in different cultures (I'll probably narrow it down to two due to paper length--probably the US and China or Japan) and how it is processed, and whether or not the procedure in which it is produced is any different in Asia than in the United States. I also want to explore where the soybeans are coming from--are they genetically modified? Obviously, all of these is still in the inception phase, but since so much of this class has been focused on processed and "new" foods, that's definitely the direction I'd like to take it in.
I'm interested in the origins of tofu, it's inception, and basic uses in different cultures (I'll probably narrow it down to two due to paper length--probably the US and China or Japan) and how it is processed, and whether or not the procedure in which it is produced is any different in Asia than in the United States. I also want to explore where the soybeans are coming from--are they genetically modified? Obviously, all of these is still in the inception phase, but since so much of this class has been focused on processed and "new" foods, that's definitely the direction I'd like to take it in.
Monday, May 12, 2008
Recipe #5: Chicken Fried Steak and Cornbread (P)
The Experience
This week's in-class cooking experiment was an extremely successful one. While I enjoyed the creativity involved in the previous bento box activity, I didn't feel that the end result was nearly as satifisying as the group preparation of collard greens/hoppin' John--not only in flavors, but also in terms of the communal cooking experiment. For the most part, the bento box was a solo project; even though we chose a partner, the preparation of the boxes was done alone and the selection and placement of the food items in the box was for me a personal experience. With our in-class cooking exercise on Thursday, we all got to feel what it was like to cook as a community. Though we divided into sub-groups, and the sub-groups divided even further in regard to division of labor, at the end of the day, the whole class gathered together and shared jointly in the fruits of our work.
Our group got to work pretty quickly. We were lucky enough to have Adam in our group, who brought in the recipe for the non-vegetarian collard greens, and had prepared them many times before. He naturally settled into a leadership role, letting us all know ahead of time what needed to be done and the order in which these tasks should be conducted. Most of the people in the group did prep work--washing and spinning the greens, frying the bacon, cutting the greens into squares for Adam to stir fry. My job was to chop the greens again after they had finished cooking and all the ingredients had been assembled.
While the greens were cooking, our group did a lot of talking and laughing--we discussed restaurants we liked and food we liked to prepare at home. We talked about class readings and experiments, and discussed how The Future of Food has made us all more aware of where our food comes from and how the price of what we eat is more than just money. Everyone seemed to have a good time. Even though we were relative strangers at the beginning of the class period, the simple act of cooking a meal together gave us all something in common and made us part of a community of sorts, even if only for a little bit.
The Experiment
The community cooking event in class was a very worthwhile experience for me, so I decided to extend it into the weekend by organizing another event in my home. I invited 4 of my closest friends over to make a meal with a lot of components together. Excited to have a new greens recipe, I prepared them again using Adam's recipe. We also made chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes, country gravy (the same gravy from my biscuits and gravy) and corn bread.
Chicken Fried Steak
5 steak filets (I let the diners choose how big or small they wanted their steak to be, and we used flat iron steaks)
Flour
Eggs
Salt
Pepper
Chili Powder
Cayenne Pepper
Mustard seed
Peanut Oil
This recipe is not an exact science, as I don't usually measure while I'm cooking. Since most of the ingredients go into the batter, I usually just add them to taste.
Cut the filets to the desired size and pound flat with a meat tenderizer. Place the flour on a palte and add salt, pepper, chili powder, cayenne pepper, and mustard seed to the flour. Open eggs into a separate bowl, and mix until just combined (don't froth them). Roll the steak in the flour, then dip it into the egg, and repeat until the meat is double coated. Drop into a wok of hot peanut oil and fry until the outside is golden brown (usually 5-9 minutes depending on oil temperature). Remove steaks from oil and drain. Place steaks in a 35o degree oven for another 6-10 minutes, keeping an eye on them the whole time so they don't get too dark. Serve with mashed potatoes and country gravy (we used the vegetarian version).
Corn Bread (recipe from How to Cook Everything by Mark Bittman)
1 1/4 c buttermilk or yogurt (I've never made it with yogurt, so can't vouch for how it will turn out)
2 tbsp butter
1 1/2 cup medium-grind cornmeal
1/2 flour
1 1/2 tsp baking powder
1 tsp salt
1 tbsp sugar (you can add more if you like sweeter corn bread, but adding too much gives it an odd texture)
1 egg
Melt the butter in an iron skillet (or bread pan, whatever you're baking the bread in) on medium heat (about two minutes) then turn off heat. Combine the dry ingredients in a bowl. Mix the egg gently into the buttermilk, and slowly add this liquid mixture into the dry ingredients, stirring constantly (but not frothing). Once combined, pour the batter into the skillet of melted butter. Bake at 375 degrees for 30 minutes, or until the top is a light golden brown and a toothpick inserted into the bread comes out clean. This recipe tastes best if the cornbread is served hot.
This week's in-class cooking experiment was an extremely successful one. While I enjoyed the creativity involved in the previous bento box activity, I didn't feel that the end result was nearly as satifisying as the group preparation of collard greens/hoppin' John--not only in flavors, but also in terms of the communal cooking experiment. For the most part, the bento box was a solo project; even though we chose a partner, the preparation of the boxes was done alone and the selection and placement of the food items in the box was for me a personal experience. With our in-class cooking exercise on Thursday, we all got to feel what it was like to cook as a community. Though we divided into sub-groups, and the sub-groups divided even further in regard to division of labor, at the end of the day, the whole class gathered together and shared jointly in the fruits of our work.
Our group got to work pretty quickly. We were lucky enough to have Adam in our group, who brought in the recipe for the non-vegetarian collard greens, and had prepared them many times before. He naturally settled into a leadership role, letting us all know ahead of time what needed to be done and the order in which these tasks should be conducted. Most of the people in the group did prep work--washing and spinning the greens, frying the bacon, cutting the greens into squares for Adam to stir fry. My job was to chop the greens again after they had finished cooking and all the ingredients had been assembled.
While the greens were cooking, our group did a lot of talking and laughing--we discussed restaurants we liked and food we liked to prepare at home. We talked about class readings and experiments, and discussed how The Future of Food has made us all more aware of where our food comes from and how the price of what we eat is more than just money. Everyone seemed to have a good time. Even though we were relative strangers at the beginning of the class period, the simple act of cooking a meal together gave us all something in common and made us part of a community of sorts, even if only for a little bit.
The Experiment
The community cooking event in class was a very worthwhile experience for me, so I decided to extend it into the weekend by organizing another event in my home. I invited 4 of my closest friends over to make a meal with a lot of components together. Excited to have a new greens recipe, I prepared them again using Adam's recipe. We also made chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes, country gravy (the same gravy from my biscuits and gravy) and corn bread.
Chicken Fried Steak
5 steak filets (I let the diners choose how big or small they wanted their steak to be, and we used flat iron steaks)
Flour
Eggs
Salt
Pepper
Chili Powder
Cayenne Pepper
Mustard seed
Peanut Oil
This recipe is not an exact science, as I don't usually measure while I'm cooking. Since most of the ingredients go into the batter, I usually just add them to taste.
Cut the filets to the desired size and pound flat with a meat tenderizer. Place the flour on a palte and add salt, pepper, chili powder, cayenne pepper, and mustard seed to the flour. Open eggs into a separate bowl, and mix until just combined (don't froth them). Roll the steak in the flour, then dip it into the egg, and repeat until the meat is double coated. Drop into a wok of hot peanut oil and fry until the outside is golden brown (usually 5-9 minutes depending on oil temperature). Remove steaks from oil and drain. Place steaks in a 35o degree oven for another 6-10 minutes, keeping an eye on them the whole time so they don't get too dark. Serve with mashed potatoes and country gravy (we used the vegetarian version).
Corn Bread (recipe from How to Cook Everything by Mark Bittman)
1 1/4 c buttermilk or yogurt (I've never made it with yogurt, so can't vouch for how it will turn out)
2 tbsp butter
1 1/2 cup medium-grind cornmeal
1/2 flour
1 1/2 tsp baking powder
1 tsp salt
1 tbsp sugar (you can add more if you like sweeter corn bread, but adding too much gives it an odd texture)
1 egg
Melt the butter in an iron skillet (or bread pan, whatever you're baking the bread in) on medium heat (about two minutes) then turn off heat. Combine the dry ingredients in a bowl. Mix the egg gently into the buttermilk, and slowly add this liquid mixture into the dry ingredients, stirring constantly (but not frothing). Once combined, pour the batter into the skillet of melted butter. Bake at 375 degrees for 30 minutes, or until the top is a light golden brown and a toothpick inserted into the bread comes out clean. This recipe tastes best if the cornbread is served hot.
Sunday, May 4, 2008
Recipe #4: Twice Baked Potatoes (P)
The Experience
The film The Future of Food was one of the more profoundly disturbing documentaries that I have seen in a long time. Prior to viewing the film, I thought that I was fairly knowledgeable about genetically engineered food products, but it turned out that my awareness of the subject barely scratched the surface.
One of the more poignant aspect of the film to me was the prevalence of intellectual property law cases filed by the Monsanto company against small farms for growing crops that had cross pollinated with their genetically engineered seeds, regardless of how it happened--wind, birds, bees--despite the fact that these were acts of nature, courts all over the country have sided with Monsanto that these farms have violated the seed company's patents. These farmers are forced to pay levies for IP infractions, and to destroy thousands of seeds, many of which they had carefully cultivated for years before contamination by Monsanto product.
The Experiment
Twice Baked Potatoes
To commemorate the conclusion of Ozeki's novel, All Over Creation, I decided to make a dish using (non-genetically engineered) potatoes. I chose twice baked potatoes, which I served with a roasted chicken and a spinach salad (using the fat from the bacon in a dressing).
4 medium sized Russet potatoes
1/2 cup sour cream
1 1/2 cup sharp cheddar cheese, grated
4-6 strips of bacon, cooked and diced
1/2 cup mushrooms, diced
1 small to medium sized shallot, diced
With a fork, poke holes into the potatoes to keep them from exploding in the oven. Bake at 400 degrees for one hour, or until a knife slides easily through the potato. Remove and let cool for 30 minutes. Slice the potato in half and scoop the insides into a bowl, leaving the skins intact. Mash the potatoes. Add the cheese, bacon mushrooms and shallot. Add the sour cream and stir until all the ingredients are thoroughly mixed. Spoon the mixture into the potato skins, and return to the oven. Bake at 350 degrees for 20 minutes, or until golden brown on top. Cool and serve with butter.
The film The Future of Food was one of the more profoundly disturbing documentaries that I have seen in a long time. Prior to viewing the film, I thought that I was fairly knowledgeable about genetically engineered food products, but it turned out that my awareness of the subject barely scratched the surface.
One of the more poignant aspect of the film to me was the prevalence of intellectual property law cases filed by the Monsanto company against small farms for growing crops that had cross pollinated with their genetically engineered seeds, regardless of how it happened--wind, birds, bees--despite the fact that these were acts of nature, courts all over the country have sided with Monsanto that these farms have violated the seed company's patents. These farmers are forced to pay levies for IP infractions, and to destroy thousands of seeds, many of which they had carefully cultivated for years before contamination by Monsanto product.
The Experiment
Twice Baked Potatoes
To commemorate the conclusion of Ozeki's novel, All Over Creation, I decided to make a dish using (non-genetically engineered) potatoes. I chose twice baked potatoes, which I served with a roasted chicken and a spinach salad (using the fat from the bacon in a dressing).
4 medium sized Russet potatoes
1/2 cup sour cream
1 1/2 cup sharp cheddar cheese, grated
4-6 strips of bacon, cooked and diced
1/2 cup mushrooms, diced
1 small to medium sized shallot, diced
With a fork, poke holes into the potatoes to keep them from exploding in the oven. Bake at 400 degrees for one hour, or until a knife slides easily through the potato. Remove and let cool for 30 minutes. Slice the potato in half and scoop the insides into a bowl, leaving the skins intact. Mash the potatoes. Add the cheese, bacon mushrooms and shallot. Add the sour cream and stir until all the ingredients are thoroughly mixed. Spoon the mixture into the potato skins, and return to the oven. Bake at 350 degrees for 20 minutes, or until golden brown on top. Cool and serve with butter.
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Recipe #3: Biscuits and Gravy
The Experience
The film Tampopo was a lighthearted look at life in Japan, and poked fun at the daily struggle and lengths people go to appear proper and "Japanese" at all times. It was also an anthropoligcal study, although scripted and controlled, of how something as simple as food permeates every aspect of life. Moving from one foodcentric scene to another, Tampopo explored the relationship between food and people--how food affects their survival, serves as a means to make a living, and how people become accustomed to having their food prepared and presented in a particular manner. How a person makes food, what they eat, and how they eat it become subjects of scrutiny and measures of their place in society's hierarchy. Food becomes a means conveying your love for your family, your appreciation for your customers, your means of opening your home to share with others. Certain foods envoke romantic feelings, and even play a role in human sexuality.
Much of the film focused on how particular foods provide comfort and emotional balance to individuals. Most of the characters in the film viewed a dish as simple bowl of ramen as essential to human existence, and they all had their own personal views on how Tampopo should prepare the perfect soup. Goro's quest for the perfect balance of ingredients, heat, texture, and amount was a quest of love--not for Tampopo herself, but for the love of a soup that was not only nourishing to the stomach, but also satisfying to the soul.
The Experiment
Each culture and social circle has their own set of comfort foods that provide the emotional balance between human and food sought by Goro. For this week's recipe, I prepared a dish that is popular in my family and social set: biscuits and gravy. Many of my friends ask to be notified whenever I make biscuits and gravy, so this recipe is a little larger to accomodate 10 people. The gravy was prepared in two different ways to accomodate both vegetarians and omnivores. Everyone tore in ate everything before I could get any pictures, but ultimately biscuits and gravy are more about taste than appearances anyway.
Biscuits (recipe taken from a classic Betty Crocker's Cookbook that I stole from my grandmother's kitchen--the only alteration I made to the recipe was subsituting the shortening for unsalted butter, because Crisco creeps me out)
1 cup unsalted butter
3 1/2 cups flour
5 teaspoons baking powder
1 1/2 tsp salt
1 1/2 c milk
Combine dry ingredients and add butter in small quantities, working it into the mixture with a fork until it looks dry and crumbly. Add milk slowly and knead until the dough forms a ball (add more flour to the outside and work it in if it is sticky). Roll out the dough to a 1/2 inch of thickness and use a glass or cookie cutter to cut it into circles. Bake at 450 degrees for 10-12 minutes, or until golden brown. Makes about 2 dozen biscuits.
Sausage/Mushroom Gravy (recipe also stolen from my grandmother)
I'm including both vegetarian and non-vegetarian preparation instructions.
10-12 pork or turkey sausage links (obviously not used in the vegetarian version)
4 tbsp sausage drippings or butter
4 tbsp gravy flour (I used Wondra)
4 cups heavy cream (gravy works with any dairy product down to 2% milk fat)
1 1/2 c chopped mushrooms
salt and pepper to taste
Heat drippings or melt butter on low. Add the flour one tbsp at a time, stirring it in with a fork until it forms a thick paste. Add the milk and increase heat to medium, and bring it to a boil, stirring constantly. Once the mixture boils, decrease heat to low and add mushrooms and sausage. Stir 2-5 minutes until the mushrooms soften. Serve hot--feeds 10-12 people.
The film Tampopo was a lighthearted look at life in Japan, and poked fun at the daily struggle and lengths people go to appear proper and "Japanese" at all times. It was also an anthropoligcal study, although scripted and controlled, of how something as simple as food permeates every aspect of life. Moving from one foodcentric scene to another, Tampopo explored the relationship between food and people--how food affects their survival, serves as a means to make a living, and how people become accustomed to having their food prepared and presented in a particular manner. How a person makes food, what they eat, and how they eat it become subjects of scrutiny and measures of their place in society's hierarchy. Food becomes a means conveying your love for your family, your appreciation for your customers, your means of opening your home to share with others. Certain foods envoke romantic feelings, and even play a role in human sexuality.
Much of the film focused on how particular foods provide comfort and emotional balance to individuals. Most of the characters in the film viewed a dish as simple bowl of ramen as essential to human existence, and they all had their own personal views on how Tampopo should prepare the perfect soup. Goro's quest for the perfect balance of ingredients, heat, texture, and amount was a quest of love--not for Tampopo herself, but for the love of a soup that was not only nourishing to the stomach, but also satisfying to the soul.
The Experiment
Each culture and social circle has their own set of comfort foods that provide the emotional balance between human and food sought by Goro. For this week's recipe, I prepared a dish that is popular in my family and social set: biscuits and gravy. Many of my friends ask to be notified whenever I make biscuits and gravy, so this recipe is a little larger to accomodate 10 people. The gravy was prepared in two different ways to accomodate both vegetarians and omnivores. Everyone tore in ate everything before I could get any pictures, but ultimately biscuits and gravy are more about taste than appearances anyway.
Biscuits (recipe taken from a classic Betty Crocker's Cookbook that I stole from my grandmother's kitchen--the only alteration I made to the recipe was subsituting the shortening for unsalted butter, because Crisco creeps me out)
1 cup unsalted butter
3 1/2 cups flour
5 teaspoons baking powder
1 1/2 tsp salt
1 1/2 c milk
Combine dry ingredients and add butter in small quantities, working it into the mixture with a fork until it looks dry and crumbly. Add milk slowly and knead until the dough forms a ball (add more flour to the outside and work it in if it is sticky). Roll out the dough to a 1/2 inch of thickness and use a glass or cookie cutter to cut it into circles. Bake at 450 degrees for 10-12 minutes, or until golden brown. Makes about 2 dozen biscuits.
Sausage/Mushroom Gravy (recipe also stolen from my grandmother)
I'm including both vegetarian and non-vegetarian preparation instructions.
10-12 pork or turkey sausage links (obviously not used in the vegetarian version)
4 tbsp sausage drippings or butter
4 tbsp gravy flour (I used Wondra)
4 cups heavy cream (gravy works with any dairy product down to 2% milk fat)
1 1/2 c chopped mushrooms
salt and pepper to taste
Heat drippings or melt butter on low. Add the flour one tbsp at a time, stirring it in with a fork until it forms a thick paste. Add the milk and increase heat to medium, and bring it to a boil, stirring constantly. Once the mixture boils, decrease heat to low and add mushrooms and sausage. Stir 2-5 minutes until the mushrooms soften. Serve hot--feeds 10-12 people.
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Recipe #2: Bento
The Experience
I felt the act of preparing a bento box in class was a worthwhile activity that nicely punctuated Andrea Arai's presentation. I also liked the idea of swapping bentos with another classmate, as it offered a shared food experience that I have never had before. While I must admit that I did not enjoy the bento as a food item, the sharing aspect helped me to appreciate it as a cultural phenomenon.
I spent about 45 minutes putting my bento together. There was a big crowd at the rice pot, so for about the first 10 minutes I observed my fellow classmates as they assembled their boxes. Most seemed to be trending toward the "cute" versions of bento we saw in Ann's presentation; many of the riceballs had smiley faces, broccoli hair, radish clothing, or other distinguishing features. I preferred a simpler presentation, going for an architectural look that would be both appetizing and aesthetically pleasing. I found it to be very relaxing to select my items, dice them, and painstakingly place them in the box with chopsticks in an artful fashion.
Unfortunately, the second part of the activity was not as enjoyable for me (no offense to Chad). I was determined to eat everything in my bento, and did not give my partner any food restrictions. However, I am not a huge fan of fish products, and the first thing I bit into was some sort of soft fish cake that was highly unpleasant in both flavor and texture. I found the fish cake flavor remained in (which were all delicious). I enjoyed the pickled radish at first, but they were very salty, and my partner was a little liberal with their inclusion. I ate about three, however, they were extremely large and crunchy, and I couldn't bring myself to eat any more of them. I had asked specifically for the pickled plum inside my rice ball, and I found it to be overpoweringly sour, although the rice diffused some of the saltiness, making it tolerable.
For me, the preparation of the bento was the most fun part of the activity. It was hands on and creative, and really gave me an appreciation for the effort exerted by the Japanese mothers in Alison's article in making bentos for their children. In Japan, the bento serves as both a mid-afternoon snack and a source of comfort for the child; for the mothers, it is a way to express their love for their family, and also acts as an outlet for them to express their creativity.
The Experiment
JT's Bento Box (prepared in class for Chad)
1 small candied fish
1 rice ball with pickled plum and nori
1 small hot green pepper
1 broccoli flowerette
6 edamame
2 pickled radishes, 1 red, 1 yellow
1 tamago square
1 small bunch seaweed salad
soy sauce to taste
The first thing I did was use the mold to prepare the rice ball, in which I included the pickled plum. I wrapped it with a sheet of nori, and used nori slivers to accent the diamond shape on the top, and lightly sprinkled it with the Japanese seasoning. Chad requested that I include the candied fish in his box, so I wanted to make sure it was prominently featured on top of the rice ball. He also said he had an adventurous palate, so I added one of the hot peppers, in order to both add a little heat to the fish and to serve as an aesthetic counterbalance.
Next, I placed a small bunch of seaweed salad in a cup next to the rice ball to serve as sort a nest for the vegetables. I placed the broccoli in the top left corner and the soy sauce container in the opposite one, so they would frame and hold up the remaining ingredients. Next, I sliced the egg into three pieces, and placed it below the broccoli. Placing the soybeans was the most difficult part of the preparation for me, as the seaweed nest was pretty slippery, and the beans wanted to slide around, despite the containment provided by the other ingredients. I thought the pickled radishes were too large to be aesthetically pleasing as is, so I slivered them and placed them on the top of the salad, in alternating colors.
I felt the act of preparing a bento box in class was a worthwhile activity that nicely punctuated Andrea Arai's presentation. I also liked the idea of swapping bentos with another classmate, as it offered a shared food experience that I have never had before. While I must admit that I did not enjoy the bento as a food item, the sharing aspect helped me to appreciate it as a cultural phenomenon.
I spent about 45 minutes putting my bento together. There was a big crowd at the rice pot, so for about the first 10 minutes I observed my fellow classmates as they assembled their boxes. Most seemed to be trending toward the "cute" versions of bento we saw in Ann's presentation; many of the riceballs had smiley faces, broccoli hair, radish clothing, or other distinguishing features. I preferred a simpler presentation, going for an architectural look that would be both appetizing and aesthetically pleasing. I found it to be very relaxing to select my items, dice them, and painstakingly place them in the box with chopsticks in an artful fashion.
Unfortunately, the second part of the activity was not as enjoyable for me (no offense to Chad). I was determined to eat everything in my bento, and did not give my partner any food restrictions. However, I am not a huge fan of fish products, and the first thing I bit into was some sort of soft fish cake that was highly unpleasant in both flavor and texture. I found the fish cake flavor remained in (which were all delicious). I enjoyed the pickled radish at first, but they were very salty, and my partner was a little liberal with their inclusion. I ate about three, however, they were extremely large and crunchy, and I couldn't bring myself to eat any more of them. I had asked specifically for the pickled plum inside my rice ball, and I found it to be overpoweringly sour, although the rice diffused some of the saltiness, making it tolerable.
For me, the preparation of the bento was the most fun part of the activity. It was hands on and creative, and really gave me an appreciation for the effort exerted by the Japanese mothers in Alison's article in making bentos for their children. In Japan, the bento serves as both a mid-afternoon snack and a source of comfort for the child; for the mothers, it is a way to express their love for their family, and also acts as an outlet for them to express their creativity.
The Experiment
JT's Bento Box (prepared in class for Chad)1 small candied fish
1 rice ball with pickled plum and nori
1 small hot green pepper
1 broccoli flowerette
6 edamame
2 pickled radishes, 1 red, 1 yellow
1 tamago square
1 small bunch seaweed salad
soy sauce to taste
The first thing I did was use the mold to prepare the rice ball, in which I included the pickled plum. I wrapped it with a sheet of nori, and used nori slivers to accent the diamond shape on the top, and lightly sprinkled it with the Japanese seasoning. Chad requested that I include the candied fish in his box, so I wanted to make sure it was prominently featured on top of the rice ball. He also said he had an adventurous palate, so I added one of the hot peppers, in order to both add a little heat to the fish and to serve as an aesthetic counterbalance.
Next, I placed a small bunch of seaweed salad in a cup next to the rice ball to serve as sort a nest for the vegetables. I placed the broccoli in the top left corner and the soy sauce container in the opposite one, so they would frame and hold up the remaining ingredients. Next, I sliced the egg into three pieces, and placed it below the broccoli. Placing the soybeans was the most difficult part of the preparation for me, as the seaweed nest was pretty slippery, and the beans wanted to slide around, despite the containment provided by the other ingredients. I thought the pickled radishes were too large to be aesthetically pleasing as is, so I slivered them and placed them on the top of the salad, in alternating colors.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Recipe #1: Organic Vegetarian Lasagne (P)
The Experience
Both the trip to the UW Student Farm and the article The Cuba Diet got me thinking of organic farming as a viable and sustainable food source. The Student Farm was rather small, yet Ann stated that it yields enough produces to supply food to all of the volunteers, and to donate a
portion of the harvest to a charity organization. Cuba's switch from the mechanized farming methods imported from the USSR back to crop-growing methods involving manual labor transformed the island into a self-sustaining community, producing enough to feed a starving nation after the collapse of the Soviet Union. Both of these farming methods also use little to no pesticides, theoretically leading to a healthier, more "natural" vegetable.
Based on the readings and the activities in class, I decided to make a dish made from all organic ingredients. I decided on a vegetarian lasagne, and set out to the supermarket to gather the necessary supplies. I quickly found out that unless the organic produce is produced in your own backyard, it is not the most efficient way to obtain your food. I had to travel to three different markets to find all of the material. Addtionally, an all organic meal in Seattle is alarmingly pricey, particularly for the dairy products. In total, I spent $112 on the ingredients, which produced only one (fairly large) lasagne.
I also had some concerns about the quality of the some the produce. Because it was grown without pesticides, the spinach I used had some holes in it and seemed dry, dull colored and less appetizing in comparison its chemically treated counterparts. Similarly, the mushrooms were smaller and less appealing than the non-organic options I saw. The tomatoes were uncharacteristically dark, which lead to a slightly murky looking sauce. Other than these visual discrepancies, however, there was no other noticeable differences between the organic ingredients and those I usually buy.
I made all the components of the lasagne from scratch, with the exception of the pasta; this included a bechemel sauce and a marinara, which I had not made before. All recipes were adapted from my favorite cookbook, How to Cook Everything by Mark Bittman, which presents even complicated recipes into straightforward instructions that were easy to comprehend. In the spirit of the Kaluli, we invited the neighbors over to share our food. Overall, we all rated the flavor of the dish as excellent, while appearance critiques ranged from good to very good (I rated it good). While the overall experience of preparing an organic vegetarian lasagne was a positive one, the effort involved to find the ingredients and the cost would deter me from repeating it--unless, of course, I cultivated most of the ingredients by myself. Clearly, self-sustaining farming methods work better when you practice them yourself.
The Experiment
Organic Vegetarian Lasagne (adapted from How to Cook Everything by Mark Bittman)
16 oz lasagne noodles
16 oz mozzerella cheese
8 oz ricotta or cottage cheese
4 oz parmesan cheese
3 cups spinanch
3 cups mushroom marina sauce
3 cups bechemel sauce
The preparation of the finished lasagne is the easy part. Place a layer of bechemel sauce at the bottom of the pan, add a layer of noodles, a layer of marinara sauce, a layer of spinach, a layer of mozzerella and parmesan cheese, a layer of ricotta cheese, a layer of bechemel sauce. Repeat until you are sick of doing so, or you run out of pan space. Top with mozzerella and parmesan cheese (for future lasagnes, I will also add bread crumbs to this mixture for additional crustiness). Bake at 350 degrees for 45 minutes, and at 400 degrees for 15 minutes to brown the cheese on top. Serves at least 4 with leftovers for everyone's lunch tomorrow, and probably up to 8 people.
Organic Mushroom Marinara
28 oz can of whole tomatoes
3 cups portabello mushrooms, diced
1 bunch green onion or 1 shallot (I used green onion)
3 tablespoons olive oil
salt, pepper, and sugar to taste
In a large skillet, heat the olive oil and add the onion. Saute the onions in the oil on medium heat for about 5 minutes, then add the mushroom. Saute an additional 5-7 minutes, and add the tomatoes. With a fork, smash the tomatoes in the onion and mushroom mixture. Turn the heat up to medium high and cook uncovered about 10 minutes, or until the tomatoes break down and get "saucy." Add salt and pepper to taste. I found the finished sauce to be a bit tangy, but two teaspoons of sugar balanced the acid nicely.
Organic Bechemel Sauce
3 tablespoons unsalted butter
3 tablespoons flour
3 cups reduced fat (2%) milk
salt and pepper
In a pan, melt the butter on a low heat. Add the flour one tablespoon at a time, mixing it into the melted butter with a fork. Once the combination forms a thick roux, add the milk and increase the heat to medium. Stirring constantly with the fork, bring the mixture to a boil. Reduce heat and stir with a fork until it thickens. I actually added a bit more milk at this point, as I felt the sauce was too thick. Add salt and pepper to taste.
Both the trip to the UW Student Farm and the article The Cuba Diet got me thinking of organic farming as a viable and sustainable food source. The Student Farm was rather small, yet Ann stated that it yields enough produces to supply food to all of the volunteers, and to donate a
portion of the harvest to a charity organization. Cuba's switch from the mechanized farming methods imported from the USSR back to crop-growing methods involving manual labor transformed the island into a self-sustaining community, producing enough to feed a starving nation after the collapse of the Soviet Union. Both of these farming methods also use little to no pesticides, theoretically leading to a healthier, more "natural" vegetable.Based on the readings and the activities in class, I decided to make a dish made from all organic ingredients. I decided on a vegetarian lasagne, and set out to the supermarket to gather the necessary supplies. I quickly found out that unless the organic produce is produced in your own backyard, it is not the most efficient way to obtain your food. I had to travel to three different markets to find all of the material. Addtionally, an all organic meal in Seattle is alarmingly pricey, particularly for the dairy products. In total, I spent $112 on the ingredients, which produced only one (fairly large) lasagne.
I also had some concerns about the quality of the some the produce. Because it was grown without pesticides, the spinach I used had some holes in it and seemed dry, dull colored and less appetizing in comparison its chemically treated counterparts. Similarly, the mushrooms were smaller and less appealing than the non-organic options I saw. The tomatoes were uncharacteristically dark, which lead to a slightly murky looking sauce. Other than these visual discrepancies, however, there was no other noticeable differences between the organic ingredients and those I usually buy.I made all the components of the lasagne from scratch, with the exception of the pasta; this included a bechemel sauce and a marinara, which I had not made before. All recipes were adapted from my favorite cookbook, How to Cook Everything by Mark Bittman, which presents even complicated recipes into straightforward instructions that were easy to comprehend. In the spirit of the Kaluli, we invited the neighbors over to share our food. Overall, we all rated the flavor of the dish as excellent, while appearance critiques ranged from good to very good (I rated it good). While the overall experience of preparing an organic vegetarian lasagne was a positive one, the effort involved to find the ingredients and the cost would deter me from repeating it--unless, of course, I cultivated most of the ingredients by myself. Clearly, self-sustaining farming methods work better when you practice them yourself.
The Experiment
Organic Vegetarian Lasagne (adapted from How to Cook Everything by Mark Bittman)
16 oz lasagne noodles
16 oz mozzerella cheese
8 oz ricotta or cottage cheese
4 oz parmesan cheese
3 cups spinanch
3 cups mushroom marina sauce
3 cups bechemel sauce
The preparation of the finished lasagne is the easy part. Place a layer of bechemel sauce at the bottom of the pan, add a layer of noodles, a layer of marinara sauce, a layer of spinach, a layer of mozzerella and parmesan cheese, a layer of ricotta cheese, a layer of bechemel sauce. Repeat until you are sick of doing so, or you run out of pan space. Top with mozzerella and parmesan cheese (for future lasagnes, I will also add bread crumbs to this mixture for additional crustiness). Bake at 350 degrees for 45 minutes, and at 400 degrees for 15 minutes to brown the cheese on top. Serves at least 4 with leftovers for everyone's lunch tomorrow, and probably up to 8 people.
Organic Mushroom Marinara28 oz can of whole tomatoes
3 cups portabello mushrooms, diced
1 bunch green onion or 1 shallot (I used green onion)
3 tablespoons olive oil
salt, pepper, and sugar to taste
In a large skillet, heat the olive oil and add the onion. Saute the onions in the oil on medium heat for about 5 minutes, then add the mushroom. Saute an additional 5-7 minutes, and add the tomatoes. With a fork, smash the tomatoes in the onion and mushroom mixture. Turn the heat up to medium high and cook uncovered about 10 minutes, or until the tomatoes break down and get "saucy." Add salt and pepper to taste. I found the finished sauce to be a bit tangy, but two teaspoons of sugar balanced the acid nicely.
Organic Bechemel Sauce
3 tablespoons unsalted butter
3 tablespoons flour
3 cups reduced fat (2%) milk
salt and pepper
In a pan, melt the butter on a low heat. Add the flour one tablespoon at a time, mixing it into the melted butter with a fork. Once the combination forms a thick roux, add the milk and increase the heat to medium. Stirring constantly with the fork, bring the mixture to a boil. Reduce heat and stir with a fork until it thickens. I actually added a bit more milk at this point, as I felt the sauce was too thick. Add salt and pepper to taste.
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Pre-Blogging Free Write (P)
One of the main reasons that I learned to cook in the first place is that my mother is a terrible cook. Her standard mode of operation when it came to making food was the casserole. I suspect she did this because it didn't require her to be creative in regard to preparation--just cut everything up, mix it up in some noodles, throw a can of cream of mushroom soup over the top, and bake it for an hour. Her devotion to the casserole format is legendary amongst my siblings and me. In a sense, she was more creative than she thought, since there was seemingly no limit to the ingredient list. Anything could be turned into a casserole.
I always thought the casserole was a universal dish, but since moving out of Minnesota fifteen years ago, I've learned that most people didn't eat it five nights a week. Often the original casserole would be prepared on a Monday, with a new ingredient added to the leftovers each day to "improve the flavor", so that by Friday, it had merged into some sort of gray almagamation of whatever happened to be in the refrigerator. At the beginning of the week, the casserole would be somewhat palatable, and each ingredient would have its own identifiable taste. By the end of its life, it would take on a sort of muddy everyfood flavor, much like I imagine eating the remnants of a garbage disposal would taste.
When I was about fifteen, I began to experiment with cooking, and serving what I had made with my family. Since our meals had basically been limited to casseroles and whatever my father could barbeque, this trend of eating food without pasta or scorch marks, quickly caught on in my family, and I became the primary chef for the household. Eighteen years after my first cooking experience, I still have yet to make a casserole.
I always thought the casserole was a universal dish, but since moving out of Minnesota fifteen years ago, I've learned that most people didn't eat it five nights a week. Often the original casserole would be prepared on a Monday, with a new ingredient added to the leftovers each day to "improve the flavor", so that by Friday, it had merged into some sort of gray almagamation of whatever happened to be in the refrigerator. At the beginning of the week, the casserole would be somewhat palatable, and each ingredient would have its own identifiable taste. By the end of its life, it would take on a sort of muddy everyfood flavor, much like I imagine eating the remnants of a garbage disposal would taste.
When I was about fifteen, I began to experiment with cooking, and serving what I had made with my family. Since our meals had basically been limited to casseroles and whatever my father could barbeque, this trend of eating food without pasta or scorch marks, quickly caught on in my family, and I became the primary chef for the household. Eighteen years after my first cooking experience, I still have yet to make a casserole.
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