I’d like to take a moment to talk about my relationship with my greatest culinary nemesis--the peanut. This diabolical little legume is a one of the “Big 8” food allergens which, combined, account for roughly 90% of all food reactions in the U.S. The possibility of stumbling upon this deadly ingredient hovers like an angry cloud over most of my culinary experiences, the
evil peanuts threatening to rain down upon me at any moment and send me into the throes of anaphylaxis.
As a lover of all things edible, this dietary restriction weighs me down like a true physical handicap. It’s like my tongue has a lame leg and as a result there is a huge range of experiences that it can’t share with the world. For instance, Thai restaurants are virtually off-limits to me. I remember my first (and only) Thai spring roll: it was delicious. The crunchy vegetables and soft wrapper were delightful--that is, until my body began to reject the subtle poison that was cleverly laced throughout the dish and I proceeded to regurgitate my dinner right back onto the plate.
I wrote about aversions in my last blog, but I failed to mention how food allergies may factor into one’s aversions. I can think of only two instances in which my natural instinct of self-preservation would affect my dinner order. I can think of only two foods which literally put the fear of death in me: blowfish and peanuts.
The fear of food is a strange and unfamiliar emotion for most. Imagine that you’ve just ingested a Japanese blowfish and a young amatuer chef comes to your table and congratulates you on eating the first blowfish he’s ever prepared. How do you feel about what you’ve just eaten? Do you feel the panic creeping up on you? Do you feel the poison stewing in your belly, begging to diffuse throughout your bloodstream? Do you feel the certainty of life fading away? I get the same feeling every time I’m offered a home-baked cookie.
I realize that there are worse afflictions than a food allergy. However, given the response that most people have when I pass on an offering of peanut M&M’s, one would think that I’m in great suffering. “How do you live,” people ask me. I’d like to take this moment to assure the world that I do, indeed, survive without peanuts. In fact, I survive better without them.
For some reason, when I tell the average person that I can’t eat peanuts, they follow up with the question, “Does that mean you can’t eat peanut butter?” Then, after I’ve explained that peanut butter is, in fact, made almost entirely of peanuts and that no, I can’t eat it either, the generic response is, “Peanut butter is so delicious! You have no idea what you’re missing.” I have yet to understand why the average person feels compelled to rub dirt in my wounds. Do they ask a blind man how he lives without seeing the sunset?
Contrary to common belief, I’ve tasted peanuts, peanut butter, peanut flour, and peanut oil. Contrary to popular opinion, I hate peanuts--the look, the taste, the smell. You’d be surprised, when a particular food is associated with swift death, how quickly you develop a distaste for that food. Even the stench of peanuts makes me feel sick. It reminds me of sitting in the cafeteria at Scobee Elementary, trying my best to shield myself from flying peanut butter cracker particles. I was assigned to sit next to a buck-tooth girl named Meghan. Every day she ate her damned peanut butter crackers, exclaiming at how delicious they were, spewing the sickly-sweet scent of poison into the air, smiling to reveal the peanut butter and cracker particles clinging to her big protruding teeth.
Back then I used to hope that I would grow out of my peanut allergy--that I would bite into a PB&J one day, on a whim, and nothing horrific would happen (of course, I also hoped that I would grow up to be a velociraptor). I suppose that both would still be nice, but I really don’t need to be reconciled with that fiendish food, the peanut. I’ve been living with the allergy for my entire life, and it’s a part of my identity. I read the ingredients label of suspicious foods, I carry a shot of epinephrine in the glovebox of my car, and I steer clear of bake sales. My name is Jon and my problem with peanuts is really no problem at all.
Saturday, October 20, 2012
Thursday, October 11, 2012
I Wouldn't Eat that...
Out of the great multitude of food television personalities present today, my undisputed favorite is Andrew Zimmern, host of the Travel Channel’s Bizarre Food. It’s not just because of his charm and his warm personality, its because the man loves food enough to eat anything (and he’s kind enough to let the whole world watch). In case you’re not familiar with the show, Zimmern travels all over the world, partaking in strange and often revolting local “delicacies.” Viewers can see Zimmern eat all types of aversive foods, from cockroaches to rats to various animal penises.
Why is Zimmern’s show so well received? Why do we love to see him eat the foods that make us cringe?
I think that it has to do with our natural aversions to certain foods and the shock value that challenging those aversions brings to television. The old television show Fear Factor was quite popular for its tendency to unapologetically churn people’s stomachs. The show would usually contain a challenge round in which contestants were faced with the task of consuming large plates of vile foods (i.e. animal testicles and live bugs).
When we compare the two shows side-by-side, an interesting contrast becomes apparent: while the latter show treats the consumption of bizarre foods as a disgusting spectacle, the former treats it as a celebration of culinary culture and tradition. This comparison poses an interesting question about the nature of food-aversion: how is it that fear factor contestants are spitting up deer testicles while Zimmern is asking for seconds? Is our apprehension of certain foods hardwired into our brains, evoking some sort of instinctive fight-or-flight response, or are food-aversions a cultural manifestation, products of societal trends and taboos?
I attempted to understand this phenomenon by testing my own food-aversions. Though I’ve always been curious about it, I never had the gastronomical courage to sample head cheese (until last week, that is.) For those who are unfamiliar with the traditional European cold-cut, it is essentially a loaf composed of a chopped mixture of flesh from the head of a calf or a pig, which is simmered to produce a stock, and then poured into a dish where the fat and natural gelatins found in the head congeal, suspending the flesh in a savory meat jelly.
While the thought of eating the head of an animal may be especially discouraging to some, the cut of meat was not my qualm. In San Antonio, we eat a lot of barbacoa, a dish that is usually composed of slow cooked meat from the head of a cow. I learned long ago that it isn’t uncommon for restaurants to include the tongue and the eyeballs of the cow in their barbacoa tacos. Of course, barbacoa tacos were, by this time, already a staple of my diet; I’d always been aware that I was eating the head of an animal, but the newly discovered possibility of finding a big, gelatinous chunk of eyeball in my taco phased me for some time.
However, this story is proof that if the food tastes good, aversions can be overcome. It was not long before I shook off my fear of mashed eyeballs and picked up another barbacoa taco. Eventually, the shock of eating something unfamiliar fades away, and formerly aversive foods become integrated into our individual culinary cultures.
Andrew Zimmern regards his bizarre culinary encounters as an intimate form of enculturation. As he said in a Travel Channel interview, “Food is the simplest way for me to learn about another culture. Share a meal with folks and it will change your life as you see what real people are thinking and feeling.”
Food-aversions are at least partially influenced by social trends, as is evidenced by the vast differences in food preferences throughout different cultural groups. The foods one considers “normal” depend on the environment in which they were raised and the food sources available to them. Cultural groups share a relatively fixed diet, and unfamiliar foods are often the recipients of social stigmas.
However, I feel that no preconceived notion alone could have been responsible the visceral response I had to my first taste of head cheese. A feeling of dread fell over me even as I entered the grocery store and made my way to the deli counter. For me, the hardest part of eating head cheese was seeing the strange loaf of meat sitting on display. It looks like somebody replaced the fruit in your jello salad with chunks of mystery meat. Even though I was comfortable with the ingredients in the head cheese, something about it’s presentation made my stomach flip over at the sight of it.
At home, I had to close my eyes as I cut a sliver of the head cheese and popped it into my mouth. It had an intensely meaty flavor, like SPAM (one of my childhood favorites). It’s like eating the concentrated essence of beefy flavor. However, the textural sensation of the gelatinous stock made me gag instantaneously. I had to fight to keep the piece of meat down.
I was surprised at the force with which my body rejected the head cheese--a strange food which I’ve always been relatively optimistic about trying. Something about the sight and texture of the
After my experiment with head cheese, it was apparent to me that some aversions are simply products of our our own personal tastes. My aversion to the texture of gelatin, especially in the form of cold, congealed animal stock, is most likely the reason for my fear of head cheese. Just as my disdain for the taste of licorice is the reason for my aversion to Twizzlers.
Although some aversions may be rooted in cultural traditions, others are more difficult to explain. Sometimes, our instincts seem to tell us what foods to avoid, and we must decide whether to fight our aversions or to submit to them. It is important, I think, for us to try the foods we fear at least once, if only to avoid missing out on the hidden treasures of the culinary universe. As for me, I think I’ll listen to my body and avoid eating more head cheese for the time being.
Why is Zimmern’s show so well received? Why do we love to see him eat the foods that make us cringe?
I think that it has to do with our natural aversions to certain foods and the shock value that challenging those aversions brings to television. The old television show Fear Factor was quite popular for its tendency to unapologetically churn people’s stomachs. The show would usually contain a challenge round in which contestants were faced with the task of consuming large plates of vile foods (i.e. animal testicles and live bugs).
When we compare the two shows side-by-side, an interesting contrast becomes apparent: while the latter show treats the consumption of bizarre foods as a disgusting spectacle, the former treats it as a celebration of culinary culture and tradition. This comparison poses an interesting question about the nature of food-aversion: how is it that fear factor contestants are spitting up deer testicles while Zimmern is asking for seconds? Is our apprehension of certain foods hardwired into our brains, evoking some sort of instinctive fight-or-flight response, or are food-aversions a cultural manifestation, products of societal trends and taboos?
I attempted to understand this phenomenon by testing my own food-aversions. Though I’ve always been curious about it, I never had the gastronomical courage to sample head cheese (until last week, that is.) For those who are unfamiliar with the traditional European cold-cut, it is essentially a loaf composed of a chopped mixture of flesh from the head of a calf or a pig, which is simmered to produce a stock, and then poured into a dish where the fat and natural gelatins found in the head congeal, suspending the flesh in a savory meat jelly.
While the thought of eating the head of an animal may be especially discouraging to some, the cut of meat was not my qualm. In San Antonio, we eat a lot of barbacoa, a dish that is usually composed of slow cooked meat from the head of a cow. I learned long ago that it isn’t uncommon for restaurants to include the tongue and the eyeballs of the cow in their barbacoa tacos. Of course, barbacoa tacos were, by this time, already a staple of my diet; I’d always been aware that I was eating the head of an animal, but the newly discovered possibility of finding a big, gelatinous chunk of eyeball in my taco phased me for some time.
However, this story is proof that if the food tastes good, aversions can be overcome. It was not long before I shook off my fear of mashed eyeballs and picked up another barbacoa taco. Eventually, the shock of eating something unfamiliar fades away, and formerly aversive foods become integrated into our individual culinary cultures.
Andrew Zimmern regards his bizarre culinary encounters as an intimate form of enculturation. As he said in a Travel Channel interview, “Food is the simplest way for me to learn about another culture. Share a meal with folks and it will change your life as you see what real people are thinking and feeling.”
Food-aversions are at least partially influenced by social trends, as is evidenced by the vast differences in food preferences throughout different cultural groups. The foods one considers “normal” depend on the environment in which they were raised and the food sources available to them. Cultural groups share a relatively fixed diet, and unfamiliar foods are often the recipients of social stigmas.
However, I feel that no preconceived notion alone could have been responsible the visceral response I had to my first taste of head cheese. A feeling of dread fell over me even as I entered the grocery store and made my way to the deli counter. For me, the hardest part of eating head cheese was seeing the strange loaf of meat sitting on display. It looks like somebody replaced the fruit in your jello salad with chunks of mystery meat. Even though I was comfortable with the ingredients in the head cheese, something about it’s presentation made my stomach flip over at the sight of it.
At home, I had to close my eyes as I cut a sliver of the head cheese and popped it into my mouth. It had an intensely meaty flavor, like SPAM (one of my childhood favorites). It’s like eating the concentrated essence of beefy flavor. However, the textural sensation of the gelatinous stock made me gag instantaneously. I had to fight to keep the piece of meat down.
I was surprised at the force with which my body rejected the head cheese--a strange food which I’ve always been relatively optimistic about trying. Something about the sight and texture of the
After my experiment with head cheese, it was apparent to me that some aversions are simply products of our our own personal tastes. My aversion to the texture of gelatin, especially in the form of cold, congealed animal stock, is most likely the reason for my fear of head cheese. Just as my disdain for the taste of licorice is the reason for my aversion to Twizzlers.
Although some aversions may be rooted in cultural traditions, others are more difficult to explain. Sometimes, our instincts seem to tell us what foods to avoid, and we must decide whether to fight our aversions or to submit to them. It is important, I think, for us to try the foods we fear at least once, if only to avoid missing out on the hidden treasures of the culinary universe. As for me, I think I’ll listen to my body and avoid eating more head cheese for the time being.
Thursday, September 27, 2012
Fast Food Desert
In my experience, U.S. Americans are generally considered to be particularly well-fed. For anyone with a little money and a means of getting from point A to B, “hot” food can be instantaneously obtained at any time of day from one of the hundreds of local fast food restaurants. Gigantic grocery stores provide every food item imaginable all in one place, and in infinite quantities. One would imagine that amidst such abundance, hunger and malnutrition would be among the least of our worries; however, one could argue that extreme abundance has had some negative consequences in the U.S.
Consider the following: each McDonald’s spicy McChicken patty contains over twenty different ingredients, many of which are completely synthetic. The entire sandwich provides about 14 grams of protein, 16 grams of fat, 40 grams of carbs, and 360 calories. The sandwich contains only trace amounts of three essential vitamins and minerals: Calcium, Iron, and Vitamin C. Priced at only $1, the spicy McChicken was once a staple of my diet. I would go through little “mcphases” a few times a month, sometimes replacing 4-6 meals a week with McChickens and french fries. Even though the food I was eating made me feel full, the reality is that up to six of the meals I ate each were almost completely devoid of nutrients.
The western diet is one of extreme luxury. Many Americans enjoy enough affluence that they can eat whatever they choose. However, due to the fast-paced lifestyle to which most of us are accustomed, our choice is often to eat the quickest meal available. The result is that several times a week, we pick up our “food” from the comfort of our vehicles and proceed to fill our stomachs with empty calories.
Why, with such a variety of ingredients at our fingertips, do Americans choose to eat crap? Why do we shy away from the tradition of buying and cooking whole foods? One possible explanation is that the highly individualistic nature of U.S. Society discourages families from taking the time to dine together. In the average U.S. family, it is common for both husband and wife to pursue careers, as well as for children to participate in several after-school activities. Everyone is doing their own thing, which is why it’s also common for family members to have different eating schedules. Slowly, feeding one’s family becomes less of an event and more of a task. Rather than spend time planning and preparing a meal, we always have the option of driving around the corner and receiving instant gratification, so we do it.
Unfortunately, our fast-food obsession comes with consequences. Each time we decide to forego the task of preparing our own food, we are contributing to the dissolution of age-old culinary traditions. We know that enculturation is a learning process, so If the elder generations aren’t available to pass down their knowledge of recipes and cooking techniques, we can only expect future generations to become less and less concerned with autonomous dining.
As quick food continues to alter our cultural reality, the identification of healthy food is becoming a profoundly convoluted task. Each year, scientists declare that they’ve isolated the real culprit behind America’s expanding waistline. Sometimes it’s carbohydrates, sometimes saturated fats, sometimes sodium. Or, maybe its always bologna.
Regardless of the validity of each year’s health claims, food manufacturers take full advantage of the frenzy these claims whip up amongst consumers. They’ll put a big sticker reading “reduced sodium” on a box of potato chips, and interpreting this as a sign that said chips are a healthy snack. In his article, “Unhappy Meals,” Michael Pollan does a good job of summing up this relationship: “...if you’re concerned about your health, you should probably avoid food products that make health claims. Why? Because a health claim on a food product is a good indication that it’s not really food, and food is what you want to eat.”
When Pollan talks about “food,” he is referring specifically to whole fruits, vegetables, and animal proteins in their (relatively) unadulterated form. He explains that many essential nutrients contained in natural foods are only accessible to the human body when they are consumed in their natural state.
Pollan suggests that Americans dislike buying whole foods because they usually lack the nutritional labels that we all love to read so much. Without a scientific breakdown of an avocado’s contents, how can one determine whether it is truly “healthy?” I, on the other hand, am compelled to believe that fast-food culture is at the root of America’s nutritional problems. We must take care to preserve our culinary traditions by cooking our own food and sharing our knowledge of the culinary arts with others. It may never again be a necessity for us to work with whole foods, but we must do everything we can to prevent that tradition from fading out of memory.
Consider the following: each McDonald’s spicy McChicken patty contains over twenty different ingredients, many of which are completely synthetic. The entire sandwich provides about 14 grams of protein, 16 grams of fat, 40 grams of carbs, and 360 calories. The sandwich contains only trace amounts of three essential vitamins and minerals: Calcium, Iron, and Vitamin C. Priced at only $1, the spicy McChicken was once a staple of my diet. I would go through little “mcphases” a few times a month, sometimes replacing 4-6 meals a week with McChickens and french fries. Even though the food I was eating made me feel full, the reality is that up to six of the meals I ate each were almost completely devoid of nutrients.
The western diet is one of extreme luxury. Many Americans enjoy enough affluence that they can eat whatever they choose. However, due to the fast-paced lifestyle to which most of us are accustomed, our choice is often to eat the quickest meal available. The result is that several times a week, we pick up our “food” from the comfort of our vehicles and proceed to fill our stomachs with empty calories.
Why, with such a variety of ingredients at our fingertips, do Americans choose to eat crap? Why do we shy away from the tradition of buying and cooking whole foods? One possible explanation is that the highly individualistic nature of U.S. Society discourages families from taking the time to dine together. In the average U.S. family, it is common for both husband and wife to pursue careers, as well as for children to participate in several after-school activities. Everyone is doing their own thing, which is why it’s also common for family members to have different eating schedules. Slowly, feeding one’s family becomes less of an event and more of a task. Rather than spend time planning and preparing a meal, we always have the option of driving around the corner and receiving instant gratification, so we do it.
Unfortunately, our fast-food obsession comes with consequences. Each time we decide to forego the task of preparing our own food, we are contributing to the dissolution of age-old culinary traditions. We know that enculturation is a learning process, so If the elder generations aren’t available to pass down their knowledge of recipes and cooking techniques, we can only expect future generations to become less and less concerned with autonomous dining.
As quick food continues to alter our cultural reality, the identification of healthy food is becoming a profoundly convoluted task. Each year, scientists declare that they’ve isolated the real culprit behind America’s expanding waistline. Sometimes it’s carbohydrates, sometimes saturated fats, sometimes sodium. Or, maybe its always bologna.
Regardless of the validity of each year’s health claims, food manufacturers take full advantage of the frenzy these claims whip up amongst consumers. They’ll put a big sticker reading “reduced sodium” on a box of potato chips, and interpreting this as a sign that said chips are a healthy snack. In his article, “Unhappy Meals,” Michael Pollan does a good job of summing up this relationship: “...if you’re concerned about your health, you should probably avoid food products that make health claims. Why? Because a health claim on a food product is a good indication that it’s not really food, and food is what you want to eat.”
When Pollan talks about “food,” he is referring specifically to whole fruits, vegetables, and animal proteins in their (relatively) unadulterated form. He explains that many essential nutrients contained in natural foods are only accessible to the human body when they are consumed in their natural state.
Pollan suggests that Americans dislike buying whole foods because they usually lack the nutritional labels that we all love to read so much. Without a scientific breakdown of an avocado’s contents, how can one determine whether it is truly “healthy?” I, on the other hand, am compelled to believe that fast-food culture is at the root of America’s nutritional problems. We must take care to preserve our culinary traditions by cooking our own food and sharing our knowledge of the culinary arts with others. It may never again be a necessity for us to work with whole foods, but we must do everything we can to prevent that tradition from fading out of memory.
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
Eat Fresh at Green Vegetarian Cuisine
Today’s fast food culture may have the tendency of trapping people in a “burger-rut.” However, Chris and Mike Behrend, co-owners of Green Vegetarian Cuisine, are working hard to provide fresh and flavorful options for people interested in healthy dining.
Green Cuisine’s original downtown location enjoyed such success that they were able to open a new location at the Alon shopping center on N.W. Military Dr in 2011.
“Our new restaurant has been a great success,” said Behrend. “We’ve at least doubled our business.” Green Cuisine’s new location serves the same high-quality food as their restaurant downtown, and is located on the other side of town, where they can serve vegetarian food to a whole new demographic.
Green cuisine serves vegetarian renditions of several classic American comfort foods, substituting textured vegetable protein (TVP) for meat, when appropriate. I tried their signature “Neatloaf,” a novel recreation of the classic meatloaf, composed of TVP, breadcrumbs, onions, and bell peppers and topped with a tangy tomato sauce. The texture of the veggie-loaf is surprisingly similar to that of an actual meatloaf; it is dense and filling, and served next to a mound of mashed potatoes, it is a great dish to accompany a cool Fall evening.
Be advised, however, that meat substitutes are not for everyone. Green Cuisine succeeds in building complex flavor profiles with their vegetable products, but one simply can’t recreate the flavor and unctuousness of real meat. The “Neatloaf,” however, is savory in its own right: the dish is rich and nutty, the mixture of different vegetables lend a powerful sense of umami to the dish. The dish’s only real downfall was an excessive use of tomato sauce, which had the tendency to mask the dishes subtler flavors.
If you’re not a fan of meat substitutes, Green Cuisine offers a variety of other meatless alternatives, including grain salads, fruit salads, quesadillas, and several entrees featuring eggplant and mushrooms. These foods are packed with essential vitamins, proteins and most importantly, flavor. I sampled the Eggplant Parmesan, a delectable fried eggplant served over spaghetti with fresh tomato sauce and parmesan cheese. You truly won’t miss the meat in this dish. The huge slices of hearty eggplant are seasoned and pan-fried to perfection, and they work with a deep and zesty tomato sauce to create a perfect harmony of flavor. I’d recommend this dish to any first timers at Green Cuisine.
I would not, however, recommend the Falafel Plate, which is an uninspiring dish to say the least. It’s a shame that Green Cuisine offers a rather bland and disappointing rendition of the classic fried chickpea patty which is a staple of vegetarian cuisine. The falafel was seemingly unseasoned, and had no flavor, save that of the fried breading. I ordered their Raw Pecan Hummus along with the falafel, with which I was able to restore some flavor to the sad little chickpea patties. The hummus was complex and delicious. Though the hummus was still a bit underseasoned for my palate, raw pecans gave it a distinctive taste and texture.
Green Vegetarian Cuisine offers a welcome change from monotonous, meat-based menus at affordable prices. Next time you feel like eating something fresh and flavorful, make your way out to one of their restaurants. The original Green Cuisine is located downtown, at 1017 N. Flores, and their new location is in the Alon shopping center, at 10003 N.W. Military. For menus or additional information visit their website at <http://greensanantonio.com/>.
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
Vegetarian Cuisine at the CIA
As I approached the Culinary Institute of America kitchen in San Antonio for my first official cooking lesson, I couldn’t help feeling a bit of apprehension amidst my boiling anticipation. My worry wasn’t that I wouldn’t be able to “stand the heat” of the CIA kitchen (this was, after all, a class for amatuer chefs), but rather that I wouldn’t be able to stand the food.
The class which I was attending was called, simply: Vegetarian Cuisine. The name brought forth images of grilled tofu and bean burgers, and made me cringe as I relived the days when I would watch my sister with pity as she tried to enjoy the different vegetarian “meals” she confined herself to. I still don’t know why she decided to turn veg-head; she never preached about healthy living or animal cruelty, but simply claimed an aversion to meat (my guess is that some PETA pamphlet-pusher got to her.) She refrained from eating meat for 4 years, and then as abruptly as she’d stopped, she began to call herself a carnivore once more.
It wasn’t only the menu that troubled me, it was the crowd that the menu was likely to attract. I must admit that I harbor some level of bias against vegetarians, or rather, vegetarian fanatics. The fanatics, in my opinion, are the ones trying to mobilize a dietary lifestyle into a “movement.” (i.e. PETA pamphlet pushers). In my experience, this subtype is made up of young “hipsters” or rebels whose allegiance to vegetarianism relies solely on whether its “in” or not.
I remember the first time I attended the Van’s Warped Tour in 2004: as my friends and I were waiting in line at the front gates, a slew of pamphlet pushing pod-people thrust their trifolds upon us. They’ve been known to show up at several large events, confronting optimistic crowds with images rotting cow carcasses and action-shots of chicken debeakings. I say to these vegetarian fanatics the same thing I say to door-to-door evangelists: I sincerely respect your personal beliefs and practices, but get off of my porch!
Despite any misgivings, I was commited to see how the C.I.A. does vegetarian cuisine, and as I was a bit early, I decided to get into the proper mood by shopping for produce at the Pearl Farmers Market, which is conveniently situated directly behind the Culinary Institute on Saturday mornings. Since I arrived just before the opening bell, I had the opportunity to scope out several stalls and find the best looking produce so I’d know where to look when the vendors began selling. I found some pristine zucchini squash and perfect little grilling onions at one stall, some bright green jalapenos at another, and at yet another stall I found some portabellas as big as my head.
Now, with veggies in my hands and on my brain, I made my way to the C.I.A. kitchen. In the lobby, I was greeted by the professor, Chef Hinnerk von Bargen. He was a tower of a man, standing at 7 feet tall at least. He was full of energy and kindness, and after a brief greeting, he handed me a C.I.A. apron, folded up as a sort of envelope to hold a chef’s toque, a packet of papers containing the day’s recipes, and a bar of Lindt chocolate (apparently the C.I.A. has a contract with Lindt, go figure.)
I made my way into the kitchen, where I saw just under 20 classmates waiting. To my surprise, the crowd consisted primarily of middle-aged women. I, at 21 was probably the youngest and “hippest” person in the room. In fact, as I got to talking to people, I found that less than half of the people there maintained a vegetarian diet. Most of these people were just like me, looking for some new and exciting ways to incorporate vegetables into their diet.
As the chef began the demo/lecture portion of the class, he explained that he was raised on a classic German “meat and potatoes diet” while living and working at his family’s inn. He said that it was not until he went to work as a chef in Beijing that he began to see how exciting vegetable-based meals could be. He had a prolific knowledge of every vegetable on the menu--how each one should be grown, stored, and prepared, as well as which nutrients each one provides. I knew I liked him when he dismissed the raw foods movement, explaining that some foods must be cooked down before their nutrients become easily accessible to the human body.
He shared a variety of techniques, including how to create a makeshift smoker on the stove using dry spices and rice. Since some of the dough had to be made the night before, he showed us how each one was mixed, allowing us to feel the density of each type of dough.
After the demonstration, we were broken into teams of four and assigned dishes. My team was to make Mixed Grilled Vegetables, Spinach and Goat Cheese Quiche, and Ribbon Pasta with Pesto. He showed pointed us to a large table which held every ingredient that we’d need for the day’s recipes. It was far more fresh food than I’d ever seen in one kitchen. “At the end of the next two hours,” the Chef said, “every ingredient on this table should be gone. However, if you would like to experiment with any additional ingredients, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
We were each assigned a bay with an oven, grill, stove, and every pot, pan, and utensil we could possibly need. I was happy with my team’s menu. We had to make both pasta and a pie crust, both of which would be new experiences for me. The chef demonstrated how to feed pasta dough through an extruder, and then how it should be folded and cut to make perfect ribbons. He then taught us a very interesting method of keeping pie crusts flat.
He simply molded the dough to fit the pie tin, then covered the dough with a layer of plastic wrap. Then he poured dried kidney beans (any bean will do) onto the pie crust to weigh the dough down, and par-baked the crust, plastic wrap and all, for about 5-10 minutes. Once the pie crust is set, the plastic wrap can be easily lifted from the tin. Just gather the ends of the wrap to make a little sack and use it to remove the beans.
The two hours we had to cook went quickly, and soon we were plating our dishes on enormous white platters. The chef gave us some advice on how to present each dish, and tasted our food, telling us how we could perfect the flavors and textures of each dish. Finally, we tasted the fruits (or vegetables) of our labor.
The food was pretty good. It was obvious that some teams had forgotten about the salt and pepper dishes lying wrapped up at their stations, but the flavors were still all there. One group made an exceptional Thai pea soup, and another made delicious creamed swiss chard. These dishes in particular stick out in my memory, but every dish on the table brought to light an exciting way that vegetables can be cooked.
On my way out, I received a copy of the Culinary Institute’s vegetarian cookbook. I’ve been working through it eagerly, and I’m always excited to work with a vegetable I’ve never used before. Though I’m not going to give up meat, I can admit now that it doesn’t have to be a part of every meal. In the end, we humans are the great omnivores, with the ability to eat just about anything we please, so why not eat a bit of everything?
The class which I was attending was called, simply: Vegetarian Cuisine. The name brought forth images of grilled tofu and bean burgers, and made me cringe as I relived the days when I would watch my sister with pity as she tried to enjoy the different vegetarian “meals” she confined herself to. I still don’t know why she decided to turn veg-head; she never preached about healthy living or animal cruelty, but simply claimed an aversion to meat (my guess is that some PETA pamphlet-pusher got to her.) She refrained from eating meat for 4 years, and then as abruptly as she’d stopped, she began to call herself a carnivore once more.
It wasn’t only the menu that troubled me, it was the crowd that the menu was likely to attract. I must admit that I harbor some level of bias against vegetarians, or rather, vegetarian fanatics. The fanatics, in my opinion, are the ones trying to mobilize a dietary lifestyle into a “movement.” (i.e. PETA pamphlet pushers). In my experience, this subtype is made up of young “hipsters” or rebels whose allegiance to vegetarianism relies solely on whether its “in” or not.
I remember the first time I attended the Van’s Warped Tour in 2004: as my friends and I were waiting in line at the front gates, a slew of pamphlet pushing pod-people thrust their trifolds upon us. They’ve been known to show up at several large events, confronting optimistic crowds with images rotting cow carcasses and action-shots of chicken debeakings. I say to these vegetarian fanatics the same thing I say to door-to-door evangelists: I sincerely respect your personal beliefs and practices, but get off of my porch!
Despite any misgivings, I was commited to see how the C.I.A. does vegetarian cuisine, and as I was a bit early, I decided to get into the proper mood by shopping for produce at the Pearl Farmers Market, which is conveniently situated directly behind the Culinary Institute on Saturday mornings. Since I arrived just before the opening bell, I had the opportunity to scope out several stalls and find the best looking produce so I’d know where to look when the vendors began selling. I found some pristine zucchini squash and perfect little grilling onions at one stall, some bright green jalapenos at another, and at yet another stall I found some portabellas as big as my head.
Now, with veggies in my hands and on my brain, I made my way to the C.I.A. kitchen. In the lobby, I was greeted by the professor, Chef Hinnerk von Bargen. He was a tower of a man, standing at 7 feet tall at least. He was full of energy and kindness, and after a brief greeting, he handed me a C.I.A. apron, folded up as a sort of envelope to hold a chef’s toque, a packet of papers containing the day’s recipes, and a bar of Lindt chocolate (apparently the C.I.A. has a contract with Lindt, go figure.)
I made my way into the kitchen, where I saw just under 20 classmates waiting. To my surprise, the crowd consisted primarily of middle-aged women. I, at 21 was probably the youngest and “hippest” person in the room. In fact, as I got to talking to people, I found that less than half of the people there maintained a vegetarian diet. Most of these people were just like me, looking for some new and exciting ways to incorporate vegetables into their diet.
As the chef began the demo/lecture portion of the class, he explained that he was raised on a classic German “meat and potatoes diet” while living and working at his family’s inn. He said that it was not until he went to work as a chef in Beijing that he began to see how exciting vegetable-based meals could be. He had a prolific knowledge of every vegetable on the menu--how each one should be grown, stored, and prepared, as well as which nutrients each one provides. I knew I liked him when he dismissed the raw foods movement, explaining that some foods must be cooked down before their nutrients become easily accessible to the human body.
He shared a variety of techniques, including how to create a makeshift smoker on the stove using dry spices and rice. Since some of the dough had to be made the night before, he showed us how each one was mixed, allowing us to feel the density of each type of dough.
After the demonstration, we were broken into teams of four and assigned dishes. My team was to make Mixed Grilled Vegetables, Spinach and Goat Cheese Quiche, and Ribbon Pasta with Pesto. He showed pointed us to a large table which held every ingredient that we’d need for the day’s recipes. It was far more fresh food than I’d ever seen in one kitchen. “At the end of the next two hours,” the Chef said, “every ingredient on this table should be gone. However, if you would like to experiment with any additional ingredients, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
We were each assigned a bay with an oven, grill, stove, and every pot, pan, and utensil we could possibly need. I was happy with my team’s menu. We had to make both pasta and a pie crust, both of which would be new experiences for me. The chef demonstrated how to feed pasta dough through an extruder, and then how it should be folded and cut to make perfect ribbons. He then taught us a very interesting method of keeping pie crusts flat.
He simply molded the dough to fit the pie tin, then covered the dough with a layer of plastic wrap. Then he poured dried kidney beans (any bean will do) onto the pie crust to weigh the dough down, and par-baked the crust, plastic wrap and all, for about 5-10 minutes. Once the pie crust is set, the plastic wrap can be easily lifted from the tin. Just gather the ends of the wrap to make a little sack and use it to remove the beans.
The two hours we had to cook went quickly, and soon we were plating our dishes on enormous white platters. The chef gave us some advice on how to present each dish, and tasted our food, telling us how we could perfect the flavors and textures of each dish. Finally, we tasted the fruits (or vegetables) of our labor.
The food was pretty good. It was obvious that some teams had forgotten about the salt and pepper dishes lying wrapped up at their stations, but the flavors were still all there. One group made an exceptional Thai pea soup, and another made delicious creamed swiss chard. These dishes in particular stick out in my memory, but every dish on the table brought to light an exciting way that vegetables can be cooked.
On my way out, I received a copy of the Culinary Institute’s vegetarian cookbook. I’ve been working through it eagerly, and I’m always excited to work with a vegetable I’ve never used before. Though I’m not going to give up meat, I can admit now that it doesn’t have to be a part of every meal. In the end, we humans are the great omnivores, with the ability to eat just about anything we please, so why not eat a bit of everything?
Saturday, September 8, 2012
What's Driving the Global Food Crisis?
Experts predict that by the end of the year, humanity will face a global food crisis unlike any we’ve encountered before. Due to persistent droughts, which continue to sap crops and ruin harvests around the globe, the prices of vital grains such as wheat and rice are expected to skyrocket as the year comes to a close.
During a press conference in July, government officials reported that severe droughts have affected at least 88% of U.S. corn crops this year. As the U.S is currently the world’s leading producer and exporter of corn, this dramatic shortage in crop production is sure have several far-reaching consequences. While it’s safe to say that the projected food price increases are unlikely to dramatically impact the diets of most U.S. Americans, they will be devastating to the many low income peoples around the world who rely on grain imports for much of their daily sustenance.
In 2008, when droughts caused a shortage of rice and wheat in a similar scenario, the global food market went into chaos as each nation made a move to hoard huge stockpiles of grain in order to secure the needs of their own population. Russia, Ukraine, Argentina, and India halted grain exports, while in impoverished countries, such as Haiti and Egypt, the lower class became outraged and began to protest and riot in response to rising grain prices. Similar tensions are currently building around the globe, and it’s become clear that the pending global food crisis is being driven by more than just a lack of rain.
In accordance with this year’s ethanol mandates, the U.S. will use about 40% of its corn harvest to manufacture biofuels--primarily ethanol (the primary ingredient of which is corn). Considering the rate at which the USDA’s projected crop yield is dwindling, this 40% will be sure to have an enormous impact on the global corn market. However, some experts suggest that halting ethanol production would not be a comprehensive solution. Even if the U.S. were to waive its ethanol mandates, fuel companies would still stand to benefit from government incentives under the Volumetric Ethanol Excise Tax Credit, which reimburses companies 45 cents per gallon of ethanol used in gasoline production. Even without the mandates and incentives, biofuels are still far less expensive to manufacture than gasolines based on conventional oil. Fuel companies are unlikely to reduce biofuel production until it become economically prudent. Besides, our world runs on a gas engine, and a rise in fuel prices will also translate to a rise in food prices.
According to the Cattlemen’s Beef Board and the National Cattlemen’s Beef Association, it takes nearly 3.5 gallons of fuel per year to accommodate the growth of one steer. There are also several other fuel costs tied up in the processing and distribution of the beef. Due to an ever-growing global population and a rise in the middle class of developing countries such as China, the demand for beef in the global market is expected to rise significantly by 2013. Although a reduction in biofuel production could help stabilize corn prices, the rise in fuel costs would theoretically raise the cost of processing and distribution for every other food item on the market.
The UN has implored governments to refrain from banning exports, to support small farms, and to reduce biofuel production, but these short-term solutions will only tend to the immediate symptoms of a much greater underlying problem. As the global population soars towards 9 billion people, we have to face the reality that our current food and energy production methods simply aren’t sustainable. In order to feed the growing population, the agriculture industry has had to artificially boost the environment’s capacity to produce food by such methods as diverting water to irrigate normally dry fields and focusing on monoculture--the practice of growing one crop exclusively over a long period of time.
During a press conference in July, government officials reported that severe droughts have affected at least 88% of U.S. corn crops this year. As the U.S is currently the world’s leading producer and exporter of corn, this dramatic shortage in crop production is sure have several far-reaching consequences. While it’s safe to say that the projected food price increases are unlikely to dramatically impact the diets of most U.S. Americans, they will be devastating to the many low income peoples around the world who rely on grain imports for much of their daily sustenance.
In 2008, when droughts caused a shortage of rice and wheat in a similar scenario, the global food market went into chaos as each nation made a move to hoard huge stockpiles of grain in order to secure the needs of their own population. Russia, Ukraine, Argentina, and India halted grain exports, while in impoverished countries, such as Haiti and Egypt, the lower class became outraged and began to protest and riot in response to rising grain prices. Similar tensions are currently building around the globe, and it’s become clear that the pending global food crisis is being driven by more than just a lack of rain.
In accordance with this year’s ethanol mandates, the U.S. will use about 40% of its corn harvest to manufacture biofuels--primarily ethanol (the primary ingredient of which is corn). Considering the rate at which the USDA’s projected crop yield is dwindling, this 40% will be sure to have an enormous impact on the global corn market. However, some experts suggest that halting ethanol production would not be a comprehensive solution. Even if the U.S. were to waive its ethanol mandates, fuel companies would still stand to benefit from government incentives under the Volumetric Ethanol Excise Tax Credit, which reimburses companies 45 cents per gallon of ethanol used in gasoline production. Even without the mandates and incentives, biofuels are still far less expensive to manufacture than gasolines based on conventional oil. Fuel companies are unlikely to reduce biofuel production until it become economically prudent. Besides, our world runs on a gas engine, and a rise in fuel prices will also translate to a rise in food prices.
According to the Cattlemen’s Beef Board and the National Cattlemen’s Beef Association, it takes nearly 3.5 gallons of fuel per year to accommodate the growth of one steer. There are also several other fuel costs tied up in the processing and distribution of the beef. Due to an ever-growing global population and a rise in the middle class of developing countries such as China, the demand for beef in the global market is expected to rise significantly by 2013. Although a reduction in biofuel production could help stabilize corn prices, the rise in fuel costs would theoretically raise the cost of processing and distribution for every other food item on the market.
The UN has implored governments to refrain from banning exports, to support small farms, and to reduce biofuel production, but these short-term solutions will only tend to the immediate symptoms of a much greater underlying problem. As the global population soars towards 9 billion people, we have to face the reality that our current food and energy production methods simply aren’t sustainable. In order to feed the growing population, the agriculture industry has had to artificially boost the environment’s capacity to produce food by such methods as diverting water to irrigate normally dry fields and focusing on monoculture--the practice of growing one crop exclusively over a long period of time.
These practices have allowed food production to expand in the short term, which has in turn facilitated a continuous growth in the global population. It is clear, however, that soon the world’s people must convert to stable, sustainable methods of food production, as well a system of global distribution which focuses on reducing waste and getting that food to the places in the world where it is needed.
Friday, August 24, 2012
Shepherd's Pie: Savory and Simple
As summer slowly simmers down and we slip into the Fall, I’m feeling more and more compelled to cook more and more comfort food. My ideal “comfort food” is starchy and savory, with plenty of fat or butter. I love to make biscuits and gravy, potatoes au gratin, or 4-5-6-7-8 cheese macaroni. Tonight I did a bit of experimentation in the kitchen, and came out with a delicious recipe that I’m glad to call my own!
Shepherd’s Pie with a White Wine and Balsamic Reduction
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The Mashed Potato “Crust”:
1.5 lbs potatoes, (russet or gold, whichever you prefer)
1 stick salted butter (some may prefer to reduce this by half)
about ¼ cup heavy whipping cream
2 tbsp sour cream
2 egg yolks (as per Gordon Ramsay’s instruction on Hell’s Kitchen)
salt and pepper, to taste
This part of the recipe is very straightforward. I generally don’t peel the potatoes. Quarter your potatoes and place them in a large pot, covered with water. Bring the water to a boil and allow them to cook for about 15 minutes, or until tender. Drain the water.
In a mixing bowl, combine all of the remaining ingredients. Use a potato masher or hand mixer to break down potatoes and mix in the ingredients. Don’t beat the potatoes to death, though. Some small chunks can be nice. Add cream until the potatoes are firm, but still fluid enough to spread over your pie. You can complete this component in advance if you wish, or use leftover mashed potatoes in a pinch.
The filling:
3 cloves garlic, crushed and chopped
1 cup white onions, coarsely chopped
1 lb ground beef (I like to use 75% or 80% lean for this recipe)
3 large carrots, oblique cut
½ cup frozen peas
½ cup frozen green beans
2 tbsp olive oil
fresh parsley, chopped
green onions, thinly sliced
2 tbsp tomato paste (optional)
Cover a large skillet in olive oil and heat the oil on low heat. Add the garlic and onions, and allow them to sweat until the onions are translucent. In the meantime, par-cook the carrots in boiling water for about 3 minutes, just to soften them a little bit. When they are slightly tender, strain out the water and set them aside.
When you first start to really smell the garlic releasing it’s aroma, adjust the stove to medium heat and add your tomato paste, allowing it to brown for a minute or two before adding your ground beef. By doing this you’re creating several layers of flavor in your dish.
Allow the beef to brown completely, then add your carrots, peas, and, green beans, mixing well and coating all of your vegetables in oil. (Side note: if you choose to glaze the carrots in the balsamic, leave them out for this step.) Simmer the mixture until all of the vegetables are cooked and most of the water has evaporated out of the skillet.
Now, move your meat and vegetable mixture to the dish you plan to bake your pie in. (A large pie tin will do the trick, but I really love to bake this pie in a 8’’ or 9’’ cast iron skillet, because if you choose to omit the balsamic sauce, you can use the same skillet from the stove to the oven.) Try to get all of the bits of food out of your original skillet, but don’t rinse the skillet, as this is where you’ll be making your balsamic sauce.
Stir in about 3 sliced green onions and 2 tablespoons of finely chopped parsley. Then spoon your mashed potatoes onto the meat mixture, spreading it evenly so that it neatly covers the meat mixture like a pie crust. Cook the pie for about 20 minutes to firm up the “crust” and allow the pie to set.
(I like to cover the pie in shredded cheddar and parmesan halfway through baking.)
As the pie cooks, you can make your Balsamic reduction. First, you’ll deglaze your pan with a splash of white cooking wine. This will pick up all the yummy bits from your pan and add them to your sauce. Then simply add the balsamic vinegar and cook it over medium heat, keeping the liquid at a light simmer until you see the vinegar become somewhat viscous. When the sauce begins to cling to the pan lightly, your balsamic glaze is ready to serve.
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I hope you enjoy this recipe as much as I do. Bon Appetit!
Shepherd’s Pie with a White Wine and Balsamic Reduction
______________________________________________________
This is my own preparation of the savory meat pie that I fell in love with during a trip to London a few years ago. The recipe is very recipient to change, so feel free to manipulate it as you like. I like to change up the vegetables used for the filling, sometimes adding leeks or corn to the mix. Although I prefer to serve the Balsamic Reduction on the side, it can be used to glaze your carrots before tossing them into the pie. I’ve broken this recipe into three separate sections to make it seem as simple as it really is.
The Mashed Potato “Crust”:
1.5 lbs potatoes, (russet or gold, whichever you prefer)
1 stick salted butter (some may prefer to reduce this by half)
about ¼ cup heavy whipping cream
2 tbsp sour cream
2 egg yolks (as per Gordon Ramsay’s instruction on Hell’s Kitchen)
salt and pepper, to taste
This part of the recipe is very straightforward. I generally don’t peel the potatoes. Quarter your potatoes and place them in a large pot, covered with water. Bring the water to a boil and allow them to cook for about 15 minutes, or until tender. Drain the water.
In a mixing bowl, combine all of the remaining ingredients. Use a potato masher or hand mixer to break down potatoes and mix in the ingredients. Don’t beat the potatoes to death, though. Some small chunks can be nice. Add cream until the potatoes are firm, but still fluid enough to spread over your pie. You can complete this component in advance if you wish, or use leftover mashed potatoes in a pinch.
The filling:
3 cloves garlic, crushed and chopped
1 cup white onions, coarsely chopped
1 lb ground beef (I like to use 75% or 80% lean for this recipe)
3 large carrots, oblique cut
½ cup frozen peas
½ cup frozen green beans
2 tbsp olive oil
fresh parsley, chopped
green onions, thinly sliced
2 tbsp tomato paste (optional)
Cover a large skillet in olive oil and heat the oil on low heat. Add the garlic and onions, and allow them to sweat until the onions are translucent. In the meantime, par-cook the carrots in boiling water for about 3 minutes, just to soften them a little bit. When they are slightly tender, strain out the water and set them aside.
When you first start to really smell the garlic releasing it’s aroma, adjust the stove to medium heat and add your tomato paste, allowing it to brown for a minute or two before adding your ground beef. By doing this you’re creating several layers of flavor in your dish.
Allow the beef to brown completely, then add your carrots, peas, and, green beans, mixing well and coating all of your vegetables in oil. (Side note: if you choose to glaze the carrots in the balsamic, leave them out for this step.) Simmer the mixture until all of the vegetables are cooked and most of the water has evaporated out of the skillet.
Now, move your meat and vegetable mixture to the dish you plan to bake your pie in. (A large pie tin will do the trick, but I really love to bake this pie in a 8’’ or 9’’ cast iron skillet, because if you choose to omit the balsamic sauce, you can use the same skillet from the stove to the oven.) Try to get all of the bits of food out of your original skillet, but don’t rinse the skillet, as this is where you’ll be making your balsamic sauce.
Stir in about 3 sliced green onions and 2 tablespoons of finely chopped parsley. Then spoon your mashed potatoes onto the meat mixture, spreading it evenly so that it neatly covers the meat mixture like a pie crust. Cook the pie for about 20 minutes to firm up the “crust” and allow the pie to set.
(I like to cover the pie in shredded cheddar and parmesan halfway through baking.)
The Balsamic Reduction:
1 splash white cooking wine, (this can be substituted with any white or red wine of your choosing. Be creative. I’d be interested to hear what you come up with!)
1 cup balsamic vinegar
1 splash white cooking wine, (this can be substituted with any white or red wine of your choosing. Be creative. I’d be interested to hear what you come up with!)
1 cup balsamic vinegar
As the pie cooks, you can make your Balsamic reduction. First, you’ll deglaze your pan with a splash of white cooking wine. This will pick up all the yummy bits from your pan and add them to your sauce. Then simply add the balsamic vinegar and cook it over medium heat, keeping the liquid at a light simmer until you see the vinegar become somewhat viscous. When the sauce begins to cling to the pan lightly, your balsamic glaze is ready to serve.
_____________________________________________________
I hope you enjoy this recipe as much as I do. Bon Appetit!
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