Someone’s In the Kitchen with Daddy

Ok, not only did I stop at five, I also killed 3 blogs with one stone with this’n! You could consider this is a top ten list in progress… (but it’s not) bear with me – I’ve been down in the basement workshop all day trying to finish my fathers birthday present (and get that place cleaned up once and for all – proud to say I’m almost done!!! (on both counts), not exactly how one starts a vacation, so there. And with no further ado – some bits about food that made me chuckle this week:

#1 – Kate over at The Accidental Hedonist: When reading the headline Chinese Scientists Clone Mad Cow-Resistant Calf, the first thought that came to my mind was “Yeah, but how does it taste?”

#2 – Jenniferschmoo over at The Vegan Lunch Box: Bac-Os (yes, indeed, they are vegan!)

#3 – Fran Spielman, City Hall Reporter for the The Chicago Sun-Times: Forget about skyrocketing gas prices, soaring property tax assessments and corruption that has federal investigators crawling all over City Hall. Chicago aldermen have a more pressing concern: foie gras.

#4 – Over at The Food Whore: …there were the infamous “soft pie” hunts, which basically means we would run through the cow pastures – in our bare feet – stepping on cow pies until someone found a fresh one. The first person to call “Soft Pie”, would win a candy bar…

#5 – Barbara Fisher over at Tigers & Strawberries: The most important thing he has learned, apparently, is that it is okay to say “fart” on the ABC News.

We watched the finale of “The Next food Network Star” tonight. One thing that resonated with me (apart from being happy that Guy won, was his mention of the fact that people don’t seem to cook anymore, and Food Network is actually giving people the nudge to get back in the kitchen.

When I was a kid, mom would come home from work and whip up a tuna noodle casserole, baked chicken, shepards pie, baked fish, creamed salmon, or any number of meals that I don’t think I’ve had in about 15-20 years. (except for the fish)
Sure there were ‘TV dinners’ but we knew that wasn’t the healthiest option. Unfortunately (and somewhat surprisingly) my wife and I have succumbed to the bad habit of only eating out of the freezer – after our daughter was born. I did a heck of a lot of cooking the few years prior, and I’m only now just getting back into the swing of things.

Case in point, once every week or so we’ll have fish sticks and fries (or popcorn shrimp) for variety. This is a surefire hit, easy to make, eat and clean up from, but certainly lacking as far as actually cooking goes. We do shop at a Trader Joes and Whole Foods (when we can make a day trip and stock up on things) so we are eating a bit healthier than our options suggest (with everything being as organic as possible is a great plus). Another night would be frozen pizza, or ravioli. No side dishes, no salad course (except when I get on a salad kick and make those everynight until we’re sick of em), and regrettably no dessert course.

My sister and I didn’t really help out too much in the kitchen as kids – sure we could whip up a tuna fish sandwich, or prep some veggies, but cooking just didn’t have the sirens call. Interestingly, as soon as we both left the nest we began to explore our culinary horizons (independent of each other) and began to experiment with all sorts of new recipes. We hung on to some family classics, and created several of our own.

My regular dinner repetoire used to include such diverse (vegetarian) creations as Spinach and Portabello mushrooms with soba noodles, Steamed/Sauteed vegetable medly over udon noodles with a miso/tahini sauce (my wife’s favorite), salad with toasted pine nuts (or pecans) pears and raisins, homemade soups a plenty, a vegan chocolate silk pie you’d almost kill for, homemade breads and more (that seems to slip my mind at the moment).

Bring a baby into the mix, and everything went out the window in favor of the convenience of frozen…

Perhaps thankfully? we had a busy week at work and didn’t get to hit the store to replenish our frozen fare. I was going to actually have to put some thought into dinner and cook something. Somehow intuned to the situation this morning my little girl said she “wanted to make something with her apron on.”

We started off with some raspberry jello – with rasperry lime seltzer to make it interesting. Dinner was a simple – but delicious pasta dish, lemon pepper shrimp and tofu over angel hair. I had to put 2 pots/pans on the stove, and actually used the juice from a real lemon.

The best part was when my daughter finally gave everthing a chance and liked it. She didn’t recognize the shrimp without the breading, but when she finally tasted it she couldn’t get enough – the tofu was a tough sell. We asked her to at least try it. She likes soy milk, so we played up the fact that tofu wasn’t toes (wiggling mine for emphasis) but rather ’soy milk cheese’. That news she was happy to hear. How great is it to see a 3 year old actually eat such a diverse set of ingredients that most grown ups will actually shun.

There’s a small unadorned wallspace over the counter between the stove and the fridge. I think I’m going to hang a blackboard there so I can write out the weeks menu – restaurant style. If not only for the “creative ambiance”, but to also make the foodshopping a little easier, and break me out of the frozen rut.

Thanks for hitting the nail on the head Guy!

My wife (to be) and I had been dating for nearly a year when we went to France for vacation. We spent most of the week in St. Malo with the family who hosted me as an exchange student some years back. In many ways it was like going home. It was great to return, some things had changed, but when you’re visiting a walled in medieval city – many more things were exactly how you remembered them.

We ate our way around the region enjoying ourselves, my wife also enjoyed the “isolation” of not understanding French. I was her link to the world, and was even called upon to translate when she went to get her haircut – brave girl, but that’s another story.

We enjoyed some traditional fare, Crocque Monsieur, Pain au chocolat, gallettes and crepes, an all carrot salad, and turkey (because it’s more common than chicken). I even tried a pizza with fruits-de-la-mer (shellfish) – but I didn’t really like it. (But, I still think it’s a good idea and am willing to give it another shot)

We hiked up Mt. St. Michel, and saw the salt-meadow lamb, grazing in the pre’ sale’. We went down to the docks and watched the fishermen (farmers?) bring oysters in from the harbor in Cancale. We even had a great meal in a McDonalds. (We swear the food was fresher, and cooked healthier than back in the states). And we sat in numerous cafe’s and watched the world go by, bien sur!

The trip to McDonalds seemed to be an event to everybody but us, at first. (I mean it’s just McDonalds after all). They had the same menu (except, like they said in Pulp Fiction – they don’t call it a quarter pounder). However like any nicer restaurant, they had a hostess. Somehow they (or our host family) seemed to insist we order dessert (which they brought out to our table) and even though it looked like the same old vanilla soft-serve with chocolate syrup, it tasted fantastic! Everybody was dressed up too. Employees and patrons alike.

When we all left for McDonalds, our host mother’s father didn’t want to (perhaps refused to) come. We left him as he sat down to eat his own dinner. We had a nice, leisurely meal there and even took a meandering sight seeing drive on the way back home. “Grampy” was shocked – and perhaps disgusted, that we returned before he’d finished eating. Fast food – quelle horreur!

Days later we bid our hosts farewell and took the train back to Paris to explore the city for a couple days alone before we left for home. We walked the Champs Elysees, and ate in some fabulous restaurants…. as well as the obligatory lunch (on Easter Sunday no less) at the Hard Rock Cafe.

This was an interesting excursion, because, try as I might to speak French (which I can do) the waitress, who was French, would only speak English (this must be part of the HRC experience). Alas, I ordered my veggie burger, fries and a coke – chuckling at what my grandmother would think. Burgers on Easter!

The waitress asked how I wanted it cooked.

Odd, I thought, but I’m kinda new to this vegetarian thing, and perhaps they do things differently here. “Moyen – Medium – normale???.”

The answer seemed to satisfy, so I let it go… until I took my first bite…

“Umm, this isn’t a veggie burger”

“Oh. I’m sorry. Didn’t you think it was funny that I asked you how you wanted it cooked?

“Yes.”

Ok… so pronunciation, or enunciation… something needs a little work.

After lunch, we strolled up the Champs Elysees, towards the Arc de Triomphe – the entire city had come out by now. We almost stopped at Planet Hollywood for dinner, then thought better of it, and went for a more authentic French dining experience. I don’t remember what we ordered, just that the waitstaff didn’t seem to care if we ever left. Busy or not, they didn’t expect any turnover. It’s funny how different, but refreshing, the ‘old world’ can be. I miss the 2- hour lunches, the long leisurely dinners that always included bread, pate, salad and dessert.

The slow-food movement just can’t get here fast enough!

I have a handful of meals I’ve eaten over the years that I’d still write home about. Perhaps they’ve been artificially improved through the rosy filter of nostalgia. Whether or that’s the case or not, these delicious meals, some simple, some extravagant, have found a permanent place in my head and heart, as well as too temporary a one in my stomach…

I’ll share these here, while taking a nod from Douglas Adams (Author of the five-book Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy “Trilogy”) and won’t limit myself to just ten, or force myself to come up with a few more if I find the number falls short… Consider this a list of absolute favorites of all time, presented or ranked in no particular order.

Ok, intro aside, here goes.

I spent a college semester living in France (as an exchange student St. Malo, Brittany). I wasn’t as open minded about food as I am now, not neccesarily picky just not culinarily venturesome. Being thrown into a new culture where everything was new and different I was able to broaden my mind and horizons. I had my first artichoke, different types of seafood, and rabbit.

I travelled as much as possible while I was there, went to Paris a couple times, spent some time in the south (visited Montelimar – the nougat capital of the world), and took as many daytrips as my “house family” would endure.

One such trip was to Mt. St. Michel – not an hours drive. We meandered up the narrow and winding streets, exploring shops, the cathederal above and eventually settled into a tiny creperie above a gift shop in a tudor house.

It was small, warm and inviting. We had galettes – a buckwheat “pancake” with an egg (over easy), ham and cheese (emmental – a type of swiss) cooked inside (think pancake meets omelette). It was so simple, but so good.

To drink we had cider (hard cider) – the regional specialty, as we were north of wine country). A perfect compliment to the meal, and something I decided was going to become my drink of choice then – and upon my return to the states. Unfortunately, it was several years before hard cider became so easy to come by commercially. During that time I found a supplier – a group of monks at a monestary in Quebec… not exactly a quick jaunt (only been there twice in 10 years) but authentic enough to bring me back.

Dessert was also simple, but sublime. A crepe served with chocolate ice cream (with tiny chocolate shavings in the ice cream)

The comfort factor could come from the fact that the entire meal was nearly all foods or flavors I’d eaten back home – Eggs, pancakes, ham, swiss cheese (which I didn’t like previously), chocolate ice cream, apple juice. I’ve always liked eating breakfast for dinner, but these were combined in a whole new way, that more than 12 years later it is still an unforgettable experience.

I think I’m going to try to whip this up tomorrow. Recipe to follow.

After living a semester in Europe, experimenting with various levels of vegetarianism, and becoming an avid watcher of the Food Network, I’ve become pretty open-minded about differences in cuisine. Eastern and Western.

Seeing firsthand pizza served with an egg on top (sunny side up), chicken brought to the table on a platter with the feet still attached, and being “forced” to sup on a meal of hamburgers and fries – on Thanksgiving – (not a very big holiday outside of this country), I’ve learned not to take even the most normal of “Western” cuisines for granted….

That being said, I was cuisinely shocked on a trip to the seemingly far off and foriegn land of Ohio (thankfully my In-laws had the good sense to emigrate to New England while my wife-to-be was young).

We’d just left a cold and snowy New Hampshire April, and landed in a hot and sunny Cincinnati, OH (technically Kentucky, but lets not split hairs… it was about to get weird…)

My father-in-law met us at the airport and took my wife and I to a pizza place he knew for lunch. I think we ordered sandwiches, my father-in-law ordered coffee (he always orders coffee) and a small pie with cheese and hamburger on it.

“You mean beef?” the middle-aged woman behind the counter asked?

Tired from the trip, wondering if we were being offered an “upgrade,” and just trying to be agreeable, we said “sure”

I wanted something cold to drink, so I asked for a Sprite. She counter-offered with “Iced Tea?”

Ok…. not sure what parallel she’s drawing with that one… Don’t offer me a ginger ale. Don’t tell me you have Coke, Diet Coke and Milk…. just make a leap and offer me whatever you like… I’m tired, I don’t care.

“Sure.” I don’t generally like iced tea but was tired and weirded-out enough to not know how to cope.

We were the only customers in the restaurant mind you – generally my wife and I will never set foot in a new restaurant without patrons. However, I was told this was THE pizza place they used to go to all the time (but that was many years ago). Everything was brought out to the table one item at a time….

First my unsweetened iced tea, and everone elses drinks, then a small paper bowl full of sugar – helped the tea a bit (despite being at least a cup more sugar than we knew what to do with), and only served to add to the weird experience.

Next came the pizza. The “beef” topping we were offered was not nice, juicy cubes of steak but, rather, ground hamburger.

What the hell kind of place is this? I’m pretty sure hamburgers were on the menu, so what’s the problem?

hypothetical….
Patron – “What can I git fer ya?”
Customer – “I’d like a hamburger. Oh, but wait I’m on Atkins, so hold the bun.”
Patron – “Oh, so you don’t want a hamberger then. You want beef?”
Narrator – Customer is served not a steak, not a Salisbury steak, nothing but a bunless hamburger (with fries)

The next day, on a quick trip to the grocery store, we couldn’t find soda on the signs at the grocery store… that was until my wife remembered it was ‘pop’. At least we weren’t in the part of the country where all types of soda were a ‘Coke.’ (orange soda, root beer, Pepsi… all called Coke)

What other “translations” were I going to need to learn on this trip?…

Ultimately, and perhaps thankfully, we drove past the score of Waffle Houses and Cracker Barrels and hit the Olive Garden for dinner, and didn’t have to worry about wondering what we were really going to be served… thankfully they didn’t ask If I wanted gravy on everything there. (no – that happened at breakfast…)