food


5
Feb 21

Edutastytainment

The only problems are about scale and money. So, you know, the easy ones. But I’ve thought a lot about this. Cuisine as edutainment is an idea for the times. Hear me out:

So much of what makes up American cuisine can be understood through our country’s complicated history. Chefs Jerome Grant and Ashleigh Shanti know this history keenly as culinary experts on the influence of Black cooks on American food.

[…]

“The sky’s the limit. Just have a meal, have a meal with somebody. You get to understand so much more about them. It is such an intimate thing. And with Black food, it’s extremely important to showcase where it was all this time in history and what it contributed to history. It’s done so many great things to what America is now that it shouldn’t be overshadowed.”

I was recently in a conversation about the purpose and function of food. It’s fuel. Sometimes it feels like an obligation. But, really, food is about people, because it is universal. (A lot of things are universal, but this is the one where it shines through.) We minister with food, we laugh with food and, of course, we use it to find reasons to make dates with people we like.

Food is the ultimate social tool. A family-inherited thing for me. It’s difficult to separate whether you have good times with food, or if meals are why you have a good time.

I probably don’t have the most refined palate in the world, and the verb use of the word “plate” will probably always be weird. But there’s another option here. I can learn from food, just like that interview above wants to suggest.

Give me an engaging gastronomy tour guide, four or five tables, and tell them the tale of this meal. Every region, every culture, every dish, has an origin and impact. And the seasonings in your cabinet tastes so much better with context.

Think about the last meal you had. We had spaghetti last night. Easy, you think, it’s Italy.

You’re right, dear friend, but you are also mistaken. History traces pasta back to the Talmud, where it enters the written record in the 5th Century. There’s some considerable belief that the dried stuff came to Sicily via a North African invasion. Something like that might make the most geographical sense. The long thin forms started showing up a few hundred years later, and spaghetti factories became a thing in Italy in the 19th century, so it’s suddenly a mass produced product.

Soon after it came to the U.S., served al dente with a mild sauce.

But all of that is my summary of the Wikipedia summary of the Wikipedia entry. As such, it’s a bit abstract. There are no people in that telling. But the tale those people could tell us over a plate of noodles and gravy.

It wouldn’t all be about how the food got to us, today, but how we conceptualize food over time, too. Meals we often think of as staples today were sometimes foods of necessity for those on the wrong side of the economy. I think of every plate of barbecue, every countless soul food meal I’ve loved, even some of the novelty meals today which were originally just a means to give a little nutrition to underfed people in need. Of course, many of the meals we enjoy today are adaptations, fusion-based things and far more rich and indulgent than its predecessors. We should learn about that, too. (Cloves, bay, garlic were early spaghetti additives in the US, but oregano or basil came to us later.)

Tonight we had enchiladas. Wouldn’t an hour learning about the Aztecs with a table covered in tortillas and beans make for a fascinating evening?

This weekend we’re having low country boil — it comes from Frogmore Island, in South Carolina. That’s another delicious and educational evening, it was popularized by a man named Richard Gay, but it’s really a Gullah dish, and, thus, from Africa, with Spanish and French influence.

Now I just have to solve the problem of doing this at scale and value. And having some brilliant food historians to make it all work.


25
Jan 21

The photos improve as you scroll

It was this kind of weekend. Cold and damp and it could work almost to the bone. It was 32 at best, and that didn’t last long, either day. It left us with lovely views, like this:

Timing is everything in meteorological events. All that fog would be a great mood-setter around Halloween. But here, near the end of January, I’m close to over it. The good news is have 10 more weeks to get good and bored with views like this:

“But we’ll have sunny skies on Friday!” he said, exasperated.

We punctuated the evening with ribs, of the fall-off-the-bone variety. They were quite tasty. We should have had more. We should have them more.

A friend said on Instagram that he wants to have abs, but he likes ribs too much. I don’t see what the problem is. Abdominal musculature and ribs are located closely to one another. Why not have both?

I didn’t mention he’s getting to that age where that idea is a vanishing proposition. Let him figure that out on his own. And then he can enjoy his ribs in peace. If he’s lucky, they’ll be in pieces, not unlike the ones we had last night.

It’s Monday, so, to the cats! The cats are grand. Just had a nice little play session with one of them, in fact.

Poseidon, as ever, likes being under the cover. It’s a morning and nighttime ritual at this point. It might be too cold for him here:

Phoebe also likes cover, but she takes her cozy naps in the evening.

Poseidon got himself stuck in a box.

He was nosing around it, the top and the bottom had been opened up, so the cardboard wanted to fall over on itself. But if you stood on either side it would stack up nicely and he shimmied in, grateful for the help, until he realized his predicament.

As ever, he is an embarrassment to his sister.


1
Jan 21

Happy New Year

This is already off to a great start, don’t you think? It just feels brighter. Happier. New. It did after midnight, anyway. How long does that last, in reality? Sure, the get outta here 2020 thing is a good joke and a fervent plea, but no one is operating with the false ideal that things will be different when they get back to work next week. (Sigh.) But perception is reality and, for at least a few real minutes, the calendar is the perception. Maybe it sticks. Maybe it sticks for you.

(Those are Fourth of July fireworks from two years ago, because it fit the theme, right? But we’re done with that now. And we’re going to do things for real and right, right? Right.)

Slept in, because, you know, had to see the world’s most awkward made-for-television television event. Cat woke me up. He did not have “being considerate” as a new year’s resolution because, of course our cats understand calendars and the concepts of fresh starts and the turning over of a new leaf. They understand these things, but it got ignored this morning, and so I’m resolved to do something about that cat.

And then I fell back asleep. These things together just through the whole day out of whack. No matter. It’s an easy and light day. Went for a nice walk. Watched some football. Got ready for this:

Oh, dinner was so good. We frozen the extra ribs from Christmas and had them tonight as a candlelight dinner.

A candlelight dinner for New Year’s. We sat, and talked, and it was delightful. We resolved to have more candlelight dinners. They can’t all be like this though.

And later, the compression boots. Feet, calves, knees and quads. It’s a four-point system of delightful and intense pain.

So, yeah, already off to a great start.

Happy New Year, to you and yours. Be smart, be safe.

More on Twitter, check me out on Instagram and did you know that Phoebe and Poseidon have an Instagram account? Phoebe and Poe have an Instagram account.


31
Dec 20

Wrapping it up on time and in style

We ventured out today to Menard’s to pick up a few things. Not needs, but some small household helpful wants, if you will. But Menard’s has been great from the beginning of all of this, and we were ready to leave if it was busy, but we timed our trip to go at a hopefully light time. It was not crowded. The few people in the store all kept to themselves and practiced some conscientious responsibility.

Not counting a few quick grocery store trips, this is the third time I’ve been out since November 23rd, according to my notes. (You’re not keeping your own contact tracing list?) One of those times was to work, and the other two times, as it happens, to Menard’s. So I’m not sure if everyone everywhere around here is behaving this cordially and respectfully, but here’s to hoping.

Oh, we also got gas today. First time I’ve had to fill up since the end of October — because I’ve been practically nowhere, see.

So, a large store, staying well away from the few people also inside, and the humans at other gas pumps, the most people I’ve seen in quite some time.

In the afternoon I got this done.

It’s a 10-mile loop in Richmond which is apparently the 2015 world championship course. I had scheduled 24 miles today to wrap up the year and achieve all of my goals, meaning I had to of course do two-plus loops. This was my sixth day of riding in a row and the eighth ride in the last nine days to meet those goals and my legs were tired.

Tired.

There are two significant climbs on the route, so I had to go over them twice. On my last time through I took 20 percent off my best time on each climb. On my second trip around the course I took two percent off my PR for the route. I sat up at the end of the ride sweaty and pleased with myself. Tired, but feeling strong. Goals achieved, simply because I wrote them down and somehow that committed me to tracking them down. (Two years in a row this has happened with year-end things. Maybe there’s something to it. My 2021 resolution is to write more goals and will them into reality. Then we’ll know.) I’ve earned a rest day or two, and some time in the compression boots.

Also, I’ve convinced myself I deserve this, too:

It was so tasty and, like that ride, a great way to end this year. If we could travel were accepting visitors, I would have invited you over to not have some — because we ate it all.


21
Feb 20

We are leaving the week behind

Quite a few years ago we impulsively pulled into a Sonic. I feel silly saying that because, really, how often does one pull into Sonic as part of a plan? We’re coming back from the beach and decided we wanted blizzards. We parked, the guy’s voice came over the little speaker and we placed our order, feeling a little like we were in a different era. Maybe they’d skate our snacks out to the car. Maybe it would be just like you imagine.

We aren’t Boomers and the guy wasn’t a carhop. He shuffled slowly, painfully, aimlessly, like there was nowhere to go. Like he didn’t know which of the other empty spaces this order was supposed to go. Like he didn’t know what to say.

“We’re out of spoons. Can I interest you in a fork?”

The blizzard is an ice cream with a thick viscosity, but, no, you can’t interest me in a fork. (We went to the drive-thru at the McDonald’s next door and said they’d forgotten our spoons and they, of course, gave us two.)

That was the precise wording, though. “Can I interest you in a fork?” So polite and, yet, absurd, that we committed to memory, added it to the lexicon and turned it into a perma-punchline.

The Sonic orbited a grocery store. I just measured the distance on Google Maps. It is 618 feet away. So my near-incredulous “Walk across the parking lot, walk into that Publix and buy a box of plastic spoons,” remains on point.

Today I got to make the joke again. Because we went to Chipotle (again) and they were out of forks.

Chipotle on Kirkwood, I observed, should join forces with the Sonic on Whitemarsh Island. Between them, they could maybe they could put together a full set of plasticware.

Have you ever tried to eat rice with a plastic spoon? It can be done, but you shouldn’t try to do it if you can help it.

Also, that same out of order note has moved down the line.

Gerald, the fictional third shift leader in charge of liquid refreshments, really is the worst.

Here’s the classic Friday evening photo. See ya, work week:

There’s not much better than putting it all in the mirror, is there? And sometimes if the car is pointed in the right direction you get lucky with the sideview.

One of the few things better? Terrific pizza:

We went to Indianapolis for the night, which meant we went to nearby Carmel for a decent pie. Because, again, in a college town with 46,000 students, you can’t get a superlative slice. Mellow Mushroom should always be closer. We’d be there every week.