food


27
May 26

We took a food tour, and you have to guess where we are now

Here’s a short of lists of things that, if you have the opportunity to do, you should avoid.

If you have the opportunity to spend two nights in a row on an airplane, don’t. If you have the opportunity to be stuck on a plane when the ground power unit keeps failing, don’t. If you have the opportunity to do the above in the middle of the heat, you definitely should not.

If you have the opportunity to do that and meet the British Karen … actually do that, it is quite funny. And, look, British Karen isn’t going to get that plane flying any faster. You know that. I know that. I suspect she might know that. British Conspiracy Theory Karen might not know that. But what she can do is make the flight crew hand out extra snacks to mollify the human cargo. So thanks for that, I suppose, British Conspiracy Theory Karen. But, mostly, thanks for going quietly back to your seat when you scored the extra biscoff.

All of that is what we did last night. British Airways out of London and to points beyond. But to where? You’ve got just a little bit more time to guess, because the answer will become apparent below.

We got a bleary-eyed ride to our hotel. Honestly, I don’t remember much about it. I’ve not slept a lot on two successive airplanes and I didn’t sleep much the night before in anticipation of exhausting myself for two successive airplanes. On the way we heard a local newscast. People in the country illegally was the top story. The third story was the Senate primary in Texas. (We are in neither Texas, nor the U.S., obviously.)

We are staying just around the corner from the local stock exchange. There’s an American-style steakhouse out front. The hotel is gated. There is a private security guard. It all feels safe. Plenty of happy pedestrians are walking alongside a busy two-lane street. The hotel is nice. It is a sprawling affair. (We got turned around once, because who needs to pay attention to the desk attendant’s directions, anyway?) The hotel does not have amenities. It has experiences. The first experience was politely declining every bellhop’s offer to help. We’ve only just arrived, and we don’t yet have the local currency. We walked by two pools on the way to our room. They were small, and also cold, because winter is coming along. By this time I was the combination of tired and restless that put me close to tipping with every American dollar I had in my pocket. Just get me to a room, any room will do, so things stop spinning around me.

This evening we were picked up by a local driver who told us he spoke nine of the official languages. No idea if that was the truth, or, if so, why he’s a driver. He said there are 12 all told — they’ve recently added sign language to the list, but he hasn’t yet found a way to learn it yet, I thought about teaching him how to finger spell, but he was working, and I decided against telling him about the many dirty word tutorials on YouTube, because surely they are there. He said some of the languages were very similar. I assume this was easy for him to say, perhaps in several languages.

He delivered us to his colleague who took us on a walking tour of four nations cuisines. After the fact, I can say this: for years now I’ve had this idea of learning about food and eating the food and it is a bit like art, I am not exactly sure what I mean by that, but I’ll know it when I see it. This evening, we had food and culture and a lesson or two out of that and it is pretty close to what I’ve always been looking for. I suppose we’ll have to go on more food tours.

Tonight, we had Ghanaian, which was good. It was earth, rich, flavorful, and I will remember that as being a funny, spicy experience. (I am a spice wimp.) We tried Ethiopian, which was perhaps the best. The base of it is injera, or taita, a fermented, spongy flatbread made of teff flour. You eat it with your hands, tearing a bite of this off and using that to pick up the other parts of the food, family-style. I probably did it wrong, but the tour guide had to know that’s an occupational hazard.

I’m not a food photographer, but I would like you to know that everything on this tray was incredibly fresh and delicious. I don’t even like lentils, but those lentils were amazing. The other vegetables were freshly cut. The beef had incredible flavor. The spaghetti is there, I think, as an homage to the time that Italy tried to colonize Ethiopia and failed. The pickled beets I could do without, but it was all delicious.

We also had Nigerian, which was a bit similar to the Ghanaian, but not quite to that same level of satisfying, though I did enjoy our spicy stew sample. (This could have also just been the place we were.) It was also a bit on the spicy side. Lastly we had meat from a South African braai. The only problem is that we were full by then and we, thus, probably laid insult to the restaurant. South Africa is big on red meats. They barbecue in all seasons, and the braai has deep cultural routes in their cuisine. Also it is incredibly delicious. By the time we found this out, we’d eaten our way through three countries.

I’m going to want more of that. Fortunately, we are in South Africa for the next two weeks. I’m sure we’ll have the opportunity.


25
Jul 25

A day punctuated by three of my favorite things

One of the great things about my work is that, even in my off time I can do work related to my work! And there’s plenty of that to do. One of the great things about that thing, though, is that sometimes that work is just reading, which I, a latchkey kid of the 20th century, am prone to do anyway. To be sure, I’d probably read other things, at least some of the time, if it wasn’t work related, but some of the things we do in life we do in pursuit of the process, not the result. And that’s how the arts and humanities are made.

So, today was a reading day. Smack full busy with words. But it wasn’t lazy, because at least some of this will definitely be put to good use.

I’m coming up to the point where I need to make a notebook detailing which sort and set of notes is written down in which notebook. But, first, the weather rolled in.

We did all of the things required just before it started. Chairs moved here, umbrellas lowers, all of that. And no more than a minute after we got inside that Hollywood rain started. There was a thunderclap and then a deluge.

After dinner, which was lovingly prepared indoors by my lovely bride, despite her grilling aspirations being interrupted by the display of hydrodynamic gravity, the skies turned mellow again. This is at the top of the neighborhood.

And we were there because we went to the local creamery. To celebrate Friday, or the weekend, or try to take some of the heat off. I’m not sure. Anyway, I had a custard. They were careful to make it match the sign.

Afterword, at home, the air conditioner compressor made a nasty sound. The thing is four years old, but there was a rattling, grinding thing and no one likes that on a humid Friday night.

We turned the A/C off, and turned it back on. And, for now, it is fine.

Let’s hope it stays that way.


22
Jul 25

The difference between inspiration and vision

Inspiration comes in many forms, and perhaps the sweetest form is when the inspiration is someone else’s and you still somehow benefit. And that was the case at lunch today, when my lovely bride decided that a BLT sounded good.

And I agreed! Because I agree! And, because she is kind, she will also cook enough bacon for me to enjoy as well.

I also agreed because the alternative is to disagree. And I could disagree! A BLT did not sound good today, a BLT sounds good each and every day.

So BLTs were her inspiration, but daily BLTs are my my vision.

Since we didn’t do it yesterday, and I am quite literally getting the business for it right now, we are now past due for the site’s most popular weekly feature, our check-in with the kitties.

After lunch, Phoebe, who has become very demanding in the kitchen, was ready to relax on the sofa. (I was watching Le Tour.)

(Some time later …)

And, now, after a big cuddle with Poseidon, made his feelings about the day known, stretching himself across the keyboard. The work day is over.

So I guess I should take the hint, cut this short, and give him more pets. That is, after all, his vision.

But first I must get the cat hair off the laptop.


28
Nov 24

Happy Thanksgiving

My mother said there was no need to spend all day making a meal that we’d eat for just a few minutes, when we could just visit and enjoy the day together, instead. And this reasonable idea worked for everyone. Since I knew we were taking her to the Malaysian restaurant — now on the short list for a James Beard award, by the way — and I saw that they were offering a Thanksgiving carryout dinner, we thought we’d give it a try. It was a good choice.

Our takeaway Thanksgiving dinner was tasty this evening. The only thing that went wrong were the re-heating directions, which underestimated the amount of time a de-boned, stuffed duck needed to reach the appropriate temperature after sitting overnight at 38 degrees. But we managed. And this version of the classic Chinese Eight Treasure Duck was tasty. The leek and herb stuffing made the whole thing. I would enjoy this again.

We also had a kale with pomegranate tahini dressing, Wagyu fat mashed potatoes with duck gravy, and a surprisingly tasty root vegetable tart.

For dessert, my lovely bride made a peach crumble, from our own peach tree.

Even in our small group of three, we enjoyed a family continuity. We sat at the dining room table that my grandparents bought for my mother, which has since been handed down to me. Above us there was a picture of my great-grandparents’ home, framed from some of the wood salvaged from that old place. Behind me sat some of the other small lived things that have made up the memories of our lives. Not just mine, or even my mother’s, but also some of the items that have come to The Yankee over the years.

This weekend we’ll mark 18 months in our new home, which means, for me, 18 months of introspection about the details of homes and the lives lived in them. This is our second Thanksgiving here. Last year we hosted my in-laws. And so now we’re having our second Thanksgiving guest. Two successful Thanksgivings. And this, repetition and pleasant memories, are how traditions form.

I think about that a lot in this house, which raised a family of five for two decades before the previous owners’ children flew from the nest. They’re everywhere in this house, of course, and they should be. And now, slowly, then suddenly, so are we.

I have no idea, of course, about how that family marks Thanksgiving. Being sentimental, I wish I did know. Incorporation is how traditions grow. But whatever those people do, I hope they’ve had a fine time doing it this week, as well. And I hope you have had a fine time in keeping your traditions, as well.

Even when the menu changes, when the locations move, or the guest list is altered, traditions can continue. Traditions are intentional. Traditions are in the spirit of things.


27
Nov 24

Thanksgiving Eve

Our god-nephews (just go with it) have a light like this in their bedroom. Last Christmas they were of the age where they wanted to give you a tour of their room and all of their treasures. I had the privilege of meeting many of their action figures and see several of their creative projects. But this light stole the show. And so, as a joke, I ordered one for Christmas last year.

Ours has made a life for itself in the living room. I’ve recently discovered that you can program it to turn on and off at specific times. And, of course, you can control the colors through your phone. (Because what light doesn’t need an app?)

I think these were two of the better color schemes I saw recently.

My mother flew in yesterday for Thanksgiving. I picked her up at the airport, and we have enjoyed our visit so far. She ran some errands with my lovely bride this morning. I spent a little time finishing up the week’s grading. I even got ahead of things and wrote a few notes for classes next week. Also, I had a Zoom call with a student, as well. It has been a productive day.

This evening we went across the river and had Malaysian food. We met a friend there for dinner a few weeks ago and, just a bite or two in, I thought she would like this, so we’re back. And we ordered all of the same things. And she enjoyed it immensely, because it is good stuff.

When at Kampar, try the Nasi Lemak.

Essentially a fragrant, flavorful, magical packet of Malaysian awesomeness! Coconut cream-soaked rice topped with sambal, roasted peanuts, crispy anchovies and hard-boiled egg, all neatly wrapped in a fresh banana leaf.

Then get:

Achat
Spicy Nyonya pickled vegetables. Ange’s aunt’s recipe!

Rendang Daging
Braised beef in spices and coconut cream (our rendang is slow-cooked for at least 6 hours for the best flavor).

Ayam Goreng Berempah
Spice marinated fried chicken with sambal tomato.

We visited a cidery after dinner and just had ourselves a nice little evening in a quiet and empty Philadelphia. Everyone had gone somewhere for the holidays, it seems.

We enjoyed Kampar so much that we ordered their takeout Thanksgiving meal for tomorrow. No cooking, a new flavor profile, they even provided reheating directions. What could go wrong?

Nothing. Nothing can go wrong.

Happy Thanksgiving!