Thursday, August 25, 2011

Frank Bruni vs. Anthony Bourdain

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/08/25/opinion/bruni-unsavory-culinary-elitism.html?_r=1&src=tp&smid=fb-share

Normally I don’t post angry screeds as blog posts, but I was so pissed off by this article by Frank Bruni that I had to post a response, in hopes that someone might read what I have to say. Bruni certainly won’t, and neither will NYT readers, but I guess I’ll put this out there anyway.

In the article, Bruni asserts that ‘culinary bad boy’ Anthony Bourdain has no place insulting Paula Deen, the Food Network’s queen of Southern cooking when he says, “[Paula Deen is] telling an already obese nation that it’s O.K. to eat food that is killing us.” Deen’s response? “Not everybody can afford to pay $58 for prime rib or $650 for a bottle of wine. My friends and I cook for regular families who worry about feeding their kids and paying the bills.”

Bruni claims, upon witnessing this interchange, that Deen is "...1oo percent justified in assailing the culinary aristocracy, to which even a self-styled bad boy like Bourdain belongs, for an often selective, judgemental and unforgiving worldview."

Ok, so Anthony Bourdain can be mean. He says nasty things about people he doesn’t like, and that’s one of the reasons we love him—he’s like a foodie Bill Maher. Both Maher and Bourdain can be extreme at times, and the tone they take is, in my view, interpretable as a necessary response to an existing system that is drastically out of balance. Still, mean or not, I have a hard time believing that Bourdain, a self-made man who climbed to the top from the depths of drug addiction and repeated career suicide, could ever develop a 'selective, judgmental and unforgiving worldview,' and I also have a hard time disputing the validity of Bourdain’s claim. Also, Deen’s response sure makes me wince.

Still, Bruni disputes where I would not: “To give [Bourdain] his due: we are too fat and must address that. But getting Deen to unplug the waffle iron doesn’t strike to the core of the problem any more than posting fast-food calorie counts or taxing soft drinks do. A great deal of American obesity is attributable to the dearth of healthy food that’s affordable and convenient in low- and even middle-income neighborhoods, and changing that requires a magnitude of public intervention and private munificence that are unlikely in such pinched times.”

Oh, is that so? Ah yes, he’s familiar with the green buzzword of the aughts: “Food Deserts!” It’s all about the food deserts, yes.

Wait...no. And it’s embarrassing that someone writing on any topic related to food would dismiss America’s obesity problem so off-handedly, especially considering that our heaviness as a country cuts right to the core of some of America’s fundamental food system issues. Yes, food deserts are an important concern, but Bruni completely ignores the thought that the culinary enculturation of minority groups and those sections of the American population with higher incidences of obesity might influence the foods they choose to buy and consume—exactly the kind of enculturation Paula Deen participates in by glorifying high-calorie, decadent cooking on a nationally syndicated TV show (I’m not even going to say anything about Down Home with the Neelys). Food preferences are determined by a whole host of factors: family tradition, cultural heritage, availability of grocery stores, education, income level, availability of free time. Does Bruni think that, come a future time of economic bounty, we might drop a few grocery stores with verdant produce sections into low-income neighborhoods and see a reduction in American obesity?

Bourdain’s point is completely valid, and while the characterization of modern foodie/celebrity chef culture as snobby, highbrow and full of ‘class-inflected hypocrisy’ may have an element of truth, such an idea utterly invalidates another positive result derived from America’s sudden interest in fine food and chefs as artists: the increase in awareness of what’s great, good, healthy and ethical to eat. The new food movement isn’t about eating hundred dollar steaks, it’s about understanding why you might pay a hundred dollars to eat steak in the first place.

Here’s another snotty quote from Bruni: “When Deen fries a chicken, many of us balk. When the Manhattan chefs David Chang or Andrew Carmellini do, we grovel for reservations and swoon over the homey exhilaration of it all. Her strips of bacon, skirting pancakes, represent heedless gluttony. Chang’s dominoes of pork belly, swaddled in an Asian bun, signify high art."

True, and very ha-ha, but again, he completely ignores context here. Chang and Carmellini don’t expect you to make their kind of food at home: as I said above, it’s art, and it’s the kind of sensory experience we’re meant to have only very, very occasionally, because it’s expensive and, of course, bad for our health. Deen, on the other hand, is broadcast into the living rooms of millions, and she is presented as a source for home cooks, people who are actually in the business of providing daily meals for their families and themselves. She said it herself: “My friends and I cook for regular families who worry about feeding their kids and paying the bills.” Besides, Bourdain wasn’t saying David Chang or anyone else is superior to Deen in the first place. He merely questions the decision-making that might lead anyone, whether Food Network executive or casual viewer, to mistake Paula Deen’s show as a source of useful culinary information. Bruni seems to think Bourdain is ‘looking down’ on people who don’t have the resources to make healthy food choices or run around eating fancy tasting menus at famous restaurants; I never heard that in Bourdain’s quote on Paula Deen, and from what I know of him, I doubt if he sees himself as being above anyone with a passion for great food. In fact, most of his show, 'No Reservations,' is about eating street food, family meals, and the true cuisine of countries around the world. I haven't seen every show, but in the episodes I have seen, I certainly haven't witnessed him enter a James Beard award-winning restaurant or a trendy conceptual joint like Alinea.

I could go on. But let me say this. Taking Paula Deen off the Food Network is not going to transform America’s food system, or its obesity problem...but neither is squashing loudmouths who aggressively question the status quo. Writing off any movement or change in zeitgeist as ‘elitism’ marginalizes those who have worked lifetimes to bring about change. Elitism is inevitable once any movement or group becomes institutionalized, but that doesn’t mean there is no genuine sentiment at that group’s core. Look, foodie culture annoys me too, and the heyday of evangelical locavorism and Iron Chef fanaticism is already tired, but America has come a long way in its evolution as a food-loving country, (have you seen cookbooks from the sixties?) and an increasing awareness of food as art, human rights issue and ethical choice can only be a good thing. And a show that teaches and encourages people to cook and consume fried chicken and massive desserts...how can that be a good thing?

Thursday, July 21, 2011

Illinois Food Love

So it's been a year since I used this blog, and it may be a year until I come back to it; that's all right. I've moved to Illinois for grad school and I'll be cooking for one more often than not, which means that I need some kind of external motivation to actually cook nice things. Taking pictures of my meals and discussing them on the internet fulfills this purpose for me. So here's my first real meal in IL, inspired by the purchase of about a half pound of new potatoes from the mid-week farmers' market here in Champaign.

Mustard Vinaigrette Potato Salad

1/2 lb. new red potatoes
1/4 onion, thinly sliced
heaping tbsp. chopped capers
1/4 cup finely chopped parsley
white vinegar
olive oil
grainy deli mustard
honey
salt & pepper

Leaving the skins on, cut potatoes into bite-sized chunks. Boil them in heavily salted water (it should have the salinity of sea water) until al-dente. Combine with onions, capers and parsley. Make a simple vinaigrette with equal parts olive oil and white wine vinegar, a nice dollop of mustard, a teaspoon or so of honey, and plenty of salt and pepper. Whisk to emulsify and adjust for taste. Stir into potatoes and allow to sit for a few minutes before serving, so the potatoes absorb the vinaigrette. Also, add more salt and pepper to the salad to taste.

Fresh Fruit Salsa

1/4 cup melon, diced (I like green melons such as honeydew, galia or haogen)
1/4 cup cucumber, diced
1/4 cup blueberries, cut in half
1/8 onion, finely diced
small handful cilantro, chopped
1/4 cup toasted sliced almonds
olive oil
lime juice
salt and pepper

Combine fruit, vegetables and cilantro. Drizzle lightly with olive oil and lime juice, add salt and pepper, and adjust these four seasonings to taste. Add the almonds when you serve this fresh salsa, because if you leave them in there, they will absorb the juices of the fruits and veggies and become soggy.

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I like to serve salads like these with mixed greens or chiffonaded lettuce (greens are always more appealing when you cut them up small, in my opinion).

This would be great with a glass of white wine (what isn't?). I'm a big advocate of vinho verde, as I hate sweet white wines, and vinho is bubbly and dry. If you need more protein, just add some pieces of pan-fried or roasted chicken, or shrimp that has been sauteed or grilled. You can tell I revel in chopping up veggies and making vinaigrettes but don't care much about meat.

Until next time...will it be another year?

Saturday, June 5, 2010

Raw Milk

So at long last, my raw milk connection came through (and no, it's not Avery's Branch for Richmonders in the know) and I'll be getting a gallon of bona fide raw milk every other week. I'm incredibly excited about this, and not just because of the known health benefits of raw milk. The real thrill in having access to raw milk is that I'll finally be able to make good yogurt. For some time now I've been mildly obsessed with fermented and live-culture foods, and I went through a phase about a year ago when I was making my own yogurt every week. Unfortunately, I had some mixed results (the yogurt didn't always solidify), which I've always blamed on the fact that I was using pasteurized milk. I'm not sure if this is true -- friends have suggested buying a more 'intense' yogurt from the Middle Eastern grocery store to assure an active culture, and also carefully sterilizing all the equipment -- but now I'll finally be able to test my theory!

Here's my process for making yogurt, and just a few tips for making it easier.

Get a medium-sized saucepan and put in either 1 or 2 quarts of milk. Use a candy thermometer or something similar to get a read on the temperature. Now heat the milk up to 180 degrees fahrenheit using a medium temperature setting so that it gradually heats without burning. I try to stir almost continuously anyway, because I hate the idea of having a burned taste in my yogurt. Once it reaches 180, take the pan off the heat and put it in a bowl of cold water. Now use the spoon to stir the water around the bowl and the milk itself alternately. This helps it cool down quickly, which will expedite the process for you -- the milk needs to get down to 110. Once you've got it there, put it in 1 or 2 Mason quart jars and add exactly 1 tablespoon of yogurt to each -- if you put too much, you'll get a watery, sour product. Stir them up. Now put on the lids and wrap the jars with dish towels, using string or rubber bands to hold them in place. This will help maintain the temperature of the yogurt so the bacteria can thrive. If it's cold, put the jars in your oven with the pilot light on. In warm weather, you should be able to just keep them on the counter. Now wait 8-10 hours. The yogurt should 'make' and be nice and solid. Don't disturb it too soon.

If you want a more detailed explanation of the process of making yogurt and why it works, check out the book Wild Fermentation. There's this whole fermentation subculture in the world of food and that book's author, Sandor Katz, is its fanatical cult leader.

Sunday, May 30, 2010

Eating Local and Squash Carpaccio


So in the interim before I take possession of my new kitchen, I've occasionally been using other peoples' kitchens to cook. Recently I was inspired by Sur La Table's new cookbook, 'Eating Local -- The Cookbook Inspired by America's Farmers.' Normally I'm a little skeptical of cookbooks based on locavore/seasonal/ecological principles, not because I don't agree with these ideas, but because many locavore-oriented cookbooks are written by people who are not truly cooks at heart -- they are activists who also like to cook, and it shows in the recipes. Since I myself am just such a person (an activist who also likes to cook), I look for cookbooks that inspire me to become a better and more subtle cook.

When the farm I work for (Amy's Garden) was one of 10 small farms across the country profiled and referred to in this Eating Local cookbook, I was excited, but somewhat dubious about the quality of the recipes that would appear alongside all the pretty farm pictures. The book is, as many cookbooks today seem to be, just as much a coffee-table art book as it is a culinary resource. And that's great, because the pictures in it are absolutely lovely. For some reason, they make me excited to be working on a farm. As for the recipes...well, they're not bad. In fact, I actually kind of like them. They're cute and trendy and really fit with my cooking style, which means they don't cross seasonal boundaries, they specifically refer to and use many common market crops, and they're definitely not boring. So, with the first round of Zephyr squash on the table at the market and Eating Local under my arm, I actually went and cooked something.



This is my version of Eating Local's squash carpaccio. And yes, 'cooking' is a figurative term, since I didn't heat anything, but at this point in my culinary career, even this little salad is quite an accomplishment. I'll rewrite the recipe for you here since my version is diffferent than the one in the book.

2-3 medium-sized Zephyr yellow squash
1/4 bunch sorrel
walnuts
block of parmesan cheese
lemons
olive oil
salt and pepper
garlic

Cut the tops off the squash and peel off thin strips using a vegetable peeler. Mix up a nice vinaigrette with lemon juice, olive oil, salt and pepper and a clove of garlic. The proportions here aren't incredibly important, though I used a little less olive oil than I normally do, maybe just adding enough so that I had it in a 1:1 ratio with the lemon juice. Toss that vinaigrette with the squash strips. Toast walnuts and chop them coarsely, then add them as well. Chiffonade as much sorrel as you like, and toss that in. Now use that same vegetable peeler and add in nice thin pieces of parmesan. Add a little fresh-ground pepper when serving.

Sunday, May 23, 2010

Food Snobbery (mine) and Strawberries to Dispel Cynicism


Since I do so hate my current kitchen, I have been eating out far too much in recent weeks. I am soon to be the proud owner of a new kitchen with a nice white stove and ample windows, and the moment I am there, my new cooking life will begin. Until then, I have a few thoughts on restaurant food.

At one time I greatly appreciated food theatrics -- the more dramatic the presentation or weird the conception, the more excited I was. And I still seek out the strange and unusual when I look at a menu. However, as my foodie life has slowly evolved, I have found myself seeking out a sense of heart and true purpose in the food I eat, longing for a depth that is often absent, especially in dishes that are reproduced thousands of times on the line and engineered for profit rather than fulfilment. I have recently encountered several such dishes that I feel compelled to mention here.

1. Sashimi in a martini glass. I always fail to be impressed by sushi restaurants in this town, not because I don't like sushi, but because it always tastes the same no matter where I go. Really, the deliciousness of sushi is based solely on the quality of the fish, and no matter how you try to hide it, Richmond is not a coastal town. So we slather tiny pieces of fish in mayonnaise, wasabi and sriracha and ignore the fact that the delicate, melt-in-your-mouth, nearly-alive freshness of a good piece of raw fish is universally absent. Apparently in some cases, the drama and fanfare isn't limited to sauces and fancy arrangements of colorful cylinders; one sushi restaurant I went to last week served a $12 seared tuna 'salad' in a standard martini glass. This came complete with strawberries around the rim of the glass and curly pieces of carrot hanging down from the sides like party confetti. Setting aside the fact that the salad was tiny and the tuna was bland, the dish deserved rejection based on the fact that it was hard to eat. Food in a martini glass is too high to comfortably pick up and consume. Stemware is meant to deliver liquid directly into the mouths of drinkers. When we're eating, we want lag time between picking up a bite and consuming it. We need that space between our food and ourselves -- that's where the pleasure of eating out materializes, in the air at the table, where we chat, laugh, and slowly fill our stomachs. The martini glass was a strange and uncomfortable interloper in that usually-pleasant process. I am never a picky restaurant customer, but I admit I asked for a plate.

2. Cilantro custard. I have been in the habit of drinking lately in expensive places. One such restaurant, which shall remain nameless, serves a spicy black bean soup that comes with this weird cilantro custard squatting gooey and green in the middle of a low bowl. I admit I actually ordered the dish because I was intrigued by the idea of an herbal custard, but as I ate the soup I realized that what I seek out in a black bean soup is a depth and robustness of flavor in the soup itself. Pomp and circumstance aside, if the black, beany part of the soup isn't good, nothing else matters. This soup? Well, it was okay. But having gummy, not-so-flavorful pieces of custard in my mouth as I was trying to appreciate the soup's spicy creaminess didn't add anything to my experience of the dish -- rather, it distracted. Cilantro custard for the sake of itself becomes a glaring knob on what I believe should be a profoundly minimalist and richly delicious article of food.

I do now feel obligated to try to relate at least one truly satisfying food experience I have had in recent weeks. A blog post consisting solely of complaints about the inevitably dissatisfactory nature of restaurant food won't exactly go down in internet history for its interest or originality. So as I contemplate what I've been eating and when I've ever felt truly connected with my food, I realize it's rarely been in restaurants, and I leave you with this image, one that should serve to dispel my latent cynicism: me on a gray, somewhat rainy Tuesday evening at the farmers' market snatching countless strawberries from the tops of the quarts we've been hawking at the market all May. I dig the green top of each berry out with my thumb. They've finally reached the peak of sweetness after a good break from the rain (wet weather washes out the color and density of flavor in strawberries). My lips and fingers are stained red and I've got seeds in my teeth. I eat them until my tongue hurts and I feel alive.

Sunday, April 25, 2010

Kitchen Hate and a Long Line of Salads

Mesclun salad with toasted pecans, asparagus and homemade croutons.

I have missed cooking. The house I live in harbors a kitchen that I would describe as highly avoidable -- the stove is electric and glacially slow to heat, the oven burns without warning, counter space is nowhere to be found and the lighting is dim and yellow. There is also no dishwasher. My cooking creativity has flagged, and in the meager days of the spring season, I've given in to a long line of salads. This is not entirely a bad thing: a profusion of fresh greens can delight and satisfy. Though I long for the hiss of onions in a saute pan, I have now learned the art of gilding salads with substance, transforming them from snacks into meals. Here I present to you mix-and-match unconventional salad ideas for April.

Greens (choose one):
Tuscan Kale - My favorite. Dark blue-green crinkly leaves. If you stack them and chiffonade the way you would basil leaves, kale is easy and appealing to eat raw.
Red Russian Kale - Purple rib, light green leaf.
Arugula - Spicy tender leaves.
Mesclun Mix - Typically a blend of lettuce, kale, spinach and asian greens.

From the Market:
Beets - Roast or boil a few of them and remove the skins, then keep them in the refrigerator to chop and throw on a salad later.
Asparagus - Just diagonally slice raw asparagus spears.
Japanese turnips - They are sweet and delicious raw. Peel them if necessary, then slice thin.
Eggs - Boil them and then cut into quarters and artfully arrange on top of greens. Or fry one with plenty of salt and pepper, then and overlap it with the salad.
Crusty Bread - Tear into bite-sized pieces and toast with salt, pepper and olive oil.
Fennel - Slice extra-thin using a mandoline slicer. It has the texture of celery and a mild licorice flavor.
Apples - Try slicing them extra-thin like the fennel.

From the Store:
Red Quinoa - This takes about as long to cook as pasta does. Simmer for 10 minutes until al dente and strain.
Barley - Use quick cooking barley and it takes about the same time as quinoa. Delicious and chewy.
Currants - Like tiny little raisins.
Fourme d'Ambert - This is an expensive, intensely flavored bleu cheese...you only need a little bit to transform a salad.
Avocados - Choose a firm one and dice it.
Nuts - Try brazil nuts and pecans if you're stuck in a walnut or almond rut. Really, though, nuts always make a salad shine.

Vinaigrette (These are ideas for your salad dressing base, to be combined later with olive oil. Dress them up with spices, onions and garlic):
Red wine vinegar with dijon mustard
Balsamic vinegar
Lemon juice and white vinegar
Orange juice and honey
White wine vinegar and angostura bitters

Use discretion when pairing ingredients. Fourme d'Ambert marries beautifully with roasted beets and walnuts. Avocados, brazil nuts and apples are delicious. In all cases, remember that with each bite of the salad, there should be a small thrill, whether it's a crusty chunk of flavorful bread, a creamy piece of avocado or a sweet and chewy currant.

Sunday, March 14, 2010

Sukiyaki Party!


Ever since my dad bought a small electric hot plate in his recent efforts to raise shiitake mushrooms, I've been itching to use it to make Japanese sukiyaki for my family at our usual Sunday night dinner gathering. Tonight was the night! I lived in Japan for two years studying Japanese and then teaching English at a high school on a small island south of Kobe. One of my favorite Japanese dinners was nabe, a family-style meal where meat, vegetables, tofu and mushrooms are cooked in a flavorful broth right at the table. Sukiyaki is a version of nabe that calls for extra-thin cut pieces of beef, a sweet-savory soy sauce broth and a small bowl with a beaten raw egg for dipping. I still fondly recall cold nights with one of my best friends, Eriko, and the rest of her family, eating nabe at their kitchen table up in the mountains of rural Japan. It's a dish that invokes togetherness and warmth and it's deceptively easy to make.


The fun of making nabe is that it is participatory. Everyone adds more ingredients as they are used up. I prepared a nice spread so that we could easily put more things in the broth while we were eating dinner. I loosely followed this recipe, so I opted for grass-fed flank steak cut extra thin, yakidofu (fried tofu), fresh firm tofu, green onions, napa cabbage, shiitake and enoki mushrooms, and shirataki noodles (described here as having a 'gelatinous' texture...I love gummy, slightly chewy things so I particularly enjoy these). I also put in a bit of kimchi, since I had found a jar of authentic korean-style kimchi. Kimchi is not traditionally part of sukiyaki recipes but it is sometimes included in other nabes and in my opinion nothing is better than that sour, spicy, living flavor of lacto-fermentation.

I heated the nabe pot right on the electric hot plate, then sauted some of the beef in a little oil to brown it and infuse the broth with that delicious flavor. I added the broth right after that first round of beef had cooked through. Here is the recipe for the broth:

1/3 cup soy sauce
3 tbsp sake
4 tbsp sugar
3/4 cup water

I doubled this recipe to make enough. Once the broth was simmering, we added the other ingredients and allowed them to cook. Then we prepared the most important part of the sukiyaki meal: the eggs. Each person cracks one egg in a small bowl and beats it with chopsticks, creating a yummy yellow dipping sauce for the pieces of the soup. Once everything was cooked through, we grabbed tofu, veggies and meat out of the hot pot with chopsticks and dipped them in the egg before slurping it up and enjoying that sweet-savory flavor. It may sound gross to coat your food in raw eggs, but I promise you, it is the best part of this dish. I recommend using farm-fresh organic eggs for this, so you will not have to worry about salmonella. As the ingredients were used up, everyone contributed to efforts to add more to the pot, and we all thoroughly enjoyed this delicious Japanese dinner.


My return to Asian cooking has been, at best, incredibly slow. After living in Japan and desperately missing cheese, bread, good wine and the density of American and European cooking, I needed a long break from the light, simple quality of Asian meals. Now I'm slowly re-learning what I once knew about Asian flavors. I'm looking forward to incorporating my best memories of Japan into the cooking I do this season, and this sukiyaki meal was a wonderful start. I encourage you to try it too -- the time for warm dishes is winding down and we're looking at the last few weeks of soups and other hearty recipes before asparagus season begins!