Irony - It's What's For Dinner.

I've been reading blogs about food, animal, environmental and labor issues. And, books.

There's a lot of information out there.
Along with a fair amount of finger-pointing.

Now, this is not aimed at anyone I know personally.
(So, the example at the botom is used for illustrative purposes.)

Here's my beef.
(Pardon the pun.)

I find it interesting that whatever the writer is into, everyone else - who doesn't value THAT specific item as their #1 priority - is wrong.

And, quiet frankly, everything can't be #1.

We can choose to respect animals, or the land, or oil, or local farmers, or heritage breeds and heirloom varieties, or antibiotic and hormone-free, but we can't do them all.

At least not simultaneously.
(If someone HAS found a way, more power to them...But, I doubt it.)

We are all just trying here.
Learning, growing, doing our best.

But, what really gets me riled is when my #1 focus isn't as good as the next person's #1 in their eyes. Therefore, I'm some kind of moron who or sell-out because I make different choices.

I might choose to support local farmers. But, those farmers might sow the latest in commercially available hybrid seeds. Is that any better of worse than someone's choice to support heritage breeds and heirloom varieties - which are shipped across the country to market thus using more oil?

I think not.
I think we choose with our dollar, and our votes, and perhaps our blogs. But, finger pointing...at those who are actively pursuing information and choosing a different priority among the myriad of very important causes is....rude, short-sighted and hypocritical.

So, that's where I stand.
I won't judge your decision to purchase recycled wine bottle cocktail glasses which use fossil-fuel to make them and transport them both to the factory and back to market... if you won't judge my decision to continue to purchase milk from a local antibiotic free dairy whose owner has a different political views on immigration from you.

We each make concessions.
We aren't perfect.
We do what we can.

And, for me that's good enough.
Thus ends my finger-pointing sermon.

Irony.
It's what's for dinner.

Who's Cooking Your Dinner? Image and Immigration.

Let's hope the Disney folks don't get too cheesed off at my borrowing their photo.

I love Ratatouille.
Not the meal - the movie. I love the idea that the food - and the pleasure that comes from eating it (and making it) is more important than any one critic's opinion. I loved many parts of Ratatouille - too many to mention.

But, one message - at least a message that I personally saw in the film - was this. "Does it REALLY matter WHO cooks your food?" (Or, washes your dishes, or scrubs the floor, or...you get the idea.)

You know that Emeril is not back there slaving away in a 120 degree kitchen cooking your meal, right?

Do you really think there is a French guy named Jacques in the back making your Crème Brûlée? Imagining your sushi shows the skill of Chef Suzuki? Are you of the mind that your buritto suizo is prepared by Pepé?

(Okay...actually, I can give you that last one.)

I could attempt to wax poetic on the truth lurking behind those swinging doors. But, seriously. No one does it better than Bourdain. Bold and ballsy - Anthony Bourdain calls 'em as he sees 'em. And, the truth...well, I'll let Tony tell this tale.

Here is a link to a Houston Press article which includes an interesting e-mail from Mr. Bourdain, delving into a culinary conundrum that involves image and immigration. It's in the December 19th blog post.

I highly recommend reading Anthony's e-mail.
It's good food for thought.

'Twas The Night Before Christmas - Good Eats Style

I'm no Shakespeare.
And, I'm a poor excuse for a Seuss.
But, if you'll extend a little poetic license,
I give you...

'Twas the Night Before Christmas - Good Eats Style

Not a soup spoon was stirring, no good eats in the house.
I had starved out my friends, and the squirrel... and the mouse.

The timer was set, the tape handled with care,
In hopes that dear Alton, soon would be there.

I was all nestled and snug in my bed,
While home-cooked aromas danced in my head.

The kitty was curled up, taking a nap,
While I dreamed of real cocoa with a whipped-cream topped cap.

Pans flew to the cook top with such a clatter,
The cat sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.

I leaped to the kitchen, to check out the scene,
The pots were all shiny, like never been seen.

The cups and the saucers,they wanted to play,
The fridge door exclaimed,"This is a new day!"

Tossed open the portal, there appeared such a sight,
Fresh eggs, milk and butter this WAS a delight!

The greens, they were...green, and the pantry was filled,
I sighed for a moment, "AB would be thrilled."

My hands, they were moving, a Shun knife was drivin'
Sage chiffonaded, and, no, I'm not lyin'.

I made things that night no one would believe,
From a great Coq Au Vin, to cornbread and beans.

The hours, they flew by, I kept cooking more,
The pastries, the veggies, no fast-food stuff gore.

Ah, smell the aroma of ginger, 5-spice,
I knew in a heartbeat to grab for the rice.

What was I doing? Asian ain't Christmas Season,
Oh, heck, it's good eats, and it "Don't need a reason."

Ideas, they appeared out of nowhere - from space,
I cooked with a flourish, with style - even grace.

My technique was proficient, my measuring sound,
Why, I knew "Pints a pound the darn whole world around!"

I started to waver and go Semi-Ho,
Then I regained my senses for that's 'nother show.

The plates overfilling, tables sagged to floor,
Yet, I grabbed me more chick'n for I heard, "Fry some more!"

Now the grub, it was piled high "I'm certainly blessed.
See, a Yankee CAN cook up a holiday mess!"

But what would I do with this boatload of food?
I haven't a husband, no family, no brood.

"Aha!" I exclaimed as I sprang for the door,
Wait...some clothes would be nice, "Oh bother," the chore.

I tossed on a sweatshirt, saw the tree, then I winked,
Beneath were new slippers in "pigletty" pink.

Inviting the neighbors... they looked at me funny,
They'd tasted my past eats - I felt like Ben Bunny.

But, "This night is different!" I smiled and exclaimed,
"The food is amazing, the flavors insane."

"You've just got to try it, you'll never believe,
With a lil inspiration, what can be achieved."

They ate, heck...enjoyed...my late-night Christmas feast,
Guzzled fresh eggnog and gobbled roast beast

They supped the soufflé, enjoyed rare rack of lamb
They said they would eat it, "Take that, Sam I am."

I pointed them home when their bellies were full
Handing each one more cup of warm holiday swill

I turned to the kitchen "What a sight! Peachy Keen!"
All the dishes were sparkling, gleaming and clean.

I took a just a moment to think on the matter
If this were only one night I'd be sadder than sadder.

Then remembered the science, the tips I'd been learning
My spirit was lifted a passion was burning

I could tackle this cookin' thing, it's not such a hurdle
Just temper the mixture thus no eggs will curdle

It's payin' attention to what you are making
Not "Ack!" French technique, not "I'll have stirred, not shaken."

Thinkin' it through, the steps that you're takin',
It's sharing the good stuff, 'bout memory making

Gatherin' family, friends, old and new,
Cooking and laughing, that's holiday stew.

Then I took one more moment to thank that great man
Bringing Good Eats to people, with vision, a plan.

"Thank you, AB, your goal was not thwarted,
Your schoolin' and strivin', your patience rewarded."

"Thank you for takin' mystery out of the meat.
Your students are braising their bounties replete."

It was sure hard to stop all that cooking that day,
But, I heard a kind voice say,
"Now, just...walk away".

Hello? Is There Anybody In There?

"Just nod if you can hear me.
Is there anyone at home?
--Pink Floyd

Have no fear - there are more food related
posts sitting in my draft pile.

But, for now...
I have a favor to ask.

According to the map and counter on the right there have been 700+ blog hits since October 23. Less than 2 months.

Yet, honestly, I wonder...
Does anyone read this?

Or, are these just random hits?
Did the word "drugs" in the last post simply boost the numbers?

Interestingly enough, in the last post, I also mentioned "The Omnivore's Dilemma" and someone posted a comment that was topical.

So, I that's encouraging.

Well, my family says they read it - which is very nice. Actually, they know specifics from even the long posts...which kinda shocks me. Good people.

But, I wonder, anyone else reading?
Nodding?
Shaking your head in wonder?

So, I have a favor.
If you have read any post on here...
And you have gotten this far...
And, you've never posted a comment before...
Would you kindly post one?

You don't have to sign up to comment.
Just click the Anonymous option.

Maybe include:
Your first name,
your city or state,
how you found the blog,
and anything else you wish to share - like your own blog URL.

Thanks.
I'm just...wondering.
Anybody home?

Her Comment Resonated 24 Hours Later.

Maybe it was the drugs.
You see, I woke up with one of my headaches. Took medicine, got halfway to work and, realizing it hadn't even peaked yet, and soon it would be dangerous to drive, I headed back home. After sleeping, I pondered what I could do, still in a drug-induced stupor, and additionally numb from the brain pain...sort of like a toothache of the head.

Dishes.
I ran the warm water, and washed a stack of white dishes in bubbly white foam. But, as the water ran, I was hit with the guilt of what I was wasting. My friend in Atlanta recent told me of the crack in her backyard, a crack in the ground from the drought. It was long. She didn't know how deep - she poured a glass of water down it and didn't hear it hit bottom. She didn't have the courage to stick a yardstick down the crack.

And, there I was - washing dishes in running water.

I continued and I remembered a comment someone said in passing in a computer meeting yesterday. "We are such consumers." (Or, something like that. Bear in mind, I'm still on meds as I type this.) She was addressing the fact that sometimes we get an estimate for repair of $100 and a new device might be $120. So, of course we buy the new one. Who wouldn't? I mean, for 20 more, you can get all new parts, possibly better, faster, sleeker. And, that's good, right?

Makes sense from a business perspective.
After all, if we repair the device for 100 today, who's to say that another part of the aging device might not fail tomorrow? For $20 more, we get all new parts and a guarantee that it will be repaired for free for a year if it fails.

But, as I washed the white dish in the white bubbles, while the water flowed down the drain, her comment resonated. She only said one sentence. "We are such consumers."

That used device will go through our designated disposal channels, and will head to a landfill. Fossil fuel will be spent in the truck to pick it up from office. The truck will use more fuel to bring it to the landfill. The device will take up space - land - possibly for years. It will not decompose. Granted, the disposal company that I use might sell it for parts or scrap, and it might get reused. But, there's no assurance once it leaves my hands.

Things were easier before I cooked.
Alton Brown, my gastronomic guru, associated with Cable in the Classroom, once said in an interview something to the effect that food and cooking can help to teach every subject in school. When asked how he "taught" his daughter, then about 5 - what examples did he use - he responded that there are lessons in everything. What makes water boil? Heck, what makes bread mold? Apparently, he had little science projects growing in the kitchen. Smelly, but good examples nonetheless.

For me, food and cooking is now shaping my view on life. I hope to never be a PETA wacko, or a "green" nazi, but things are changing. I'm aware. And, those following my blog can see it, I'm sure.

It started with the pork left too long in the fridge, the waste of pig. Then, I wondered about the pig's life. And, it's death. I had heard the stories. But, I'm not giving up meat - God gave me incisors to tear. So, I wondered, "Are there small local farms I can support who treat the animal fairly?" Then, I started reading the Omnivore's Dilemma. I'm only half through the book, but my view of energy and resources is changing faster than I'm reading.

Resources.

Water ran down the drain while I washed the silverware and pondered the comment.

"We are such consumers."

It appears that my world view is changing.
Or, perhaps it's just the drugs.

I'm sure my grandmother knew this. Likely, my mother, too.

So, I stopped off at the local Oberweis dairy store to buy some fresh egg nog. It's the holidays, after all. It felt unfamiliar - very vintage - buying a half gallon of egg nog in a glass jar. Yep, just like the old days.

Then I bought a milkshake.
But, I digress.

Arriving home, arms full of holiday packages, a carry-out meal, and a library book, I set the egg nog on the counter and went to take off my coat.

Honestly, first I did an arm-sweep to clear a landing place for the egg nog bottle. I mentioned the whole holiday thing, right?

So, dinner from Styrofoam was nothing to speak of, and the movie I rented was trash. And, my belly was feeling a bit...queasy. Hmm, did I mention the milkshake? Maybe a small would have been better a better choice.

Naps are good.
Good for stress.
Good for rumbly tummies - even if you are an adult.

An hour later I heard such a clatter, I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter. Actually, I awoke hearing a... *pop*

Yes, like the tale, I actually went to the front window, saw that everything was quiet and admired the new fallen snow on the objects below.

No, really.
You can't make this stuff up.

Bleary eyed, I turned off the TV and lights and headed to the kitchen to put away the egg nog.

What is this stuff on the....no!
No, no, no, no......no.
No!

Cream colored goo inched its way along the counter, down the cabinets, and across the Pergo floor like spilled paint.

Ecru. I believe.

No!

So, I learned the lesson I'm sure my mother knew:
Egg nog has live cultures.
Which produce gas.
And, the elasticity of glass is - finite.

Or, something like that...I'll ask Alton Brown the next time I see him.

Oh, and did I mention that directly below the counter, where the glass bottle still stood - the left half blown away completely like the remnant of some 1940's military experiment...the kitchen drawer was open.

Open just 2 inches.
But, enough.

Oh, and it's the junk drawer filled with calculators, menus, pens announcing the candidacy of everyone who has run in the Chicago suburban elections going back a decade. You know the stuff.

Drip, drip, drip...into the drawer.

I stood there.
Stunned.
"Do I put on shoes?"

Things on the counter were goopy - and gaining in gooposity - as the egg nog crept towards new landscape.

Oh, no, my camera!
It's in the goopage!

I wiped down what I could of the counter, emptied the drawer of its milky mess, and rapidly ran out of paper products.

Grabbing a kitchen towel, ironically, a green gingham 40's pattern - I started to wipe up the floor. And rinse. *Drip* And, rinse, and...repeat.

Now, the only thing worse than finding yourself half asleep, on your knees in your kitchen, giving your floor an impromptu cleaning...is finding yourself, in said position, employing a lactose-laden kitchen towel...while cursing the explorer who first discovered nutmeg.

Wipe. Rinse. Repeat.

I soon found myself doing that "stepping on the towel, scooting one foot in front of the other thing" - doing my best impersonation of Lucille Ball. But, I was in flannel. No pearls. Maybe next time.

OK...it must be clean by now.
Nope...still sticky.
Wipe. Rinse. Repeat.

Repeat.
Repeat.
Repeat.

Wanted to cry...
But, I heard the punchline first.

Now, I really understood what they meant.
Both in cleaning and in cost.

I didn't even have one sip of that egg nog. And, unless the store accepts shards, I won't be getting my 85 cent bottle deposit back either.

Now, I'm sore and thirsty.
I think I'll have some...water.

Tomorrow, when it dries out, I'll discover the fate of my camera...*snif*

And, for the record, I am officially lactose intolerant, at least as it relates to egg nog this holiday season.

Now, I'm off to Google the explorer who first discovered nutmeg.
To curse his name correctly.

Virtually Limitless Cooking Inspiration- RealMeals.tv - ProMeals section

Yes, faithful readers might find that photo familiar.
Here's what inspired me to make that yummy dish.

Back in April, a friend sent me a link to a great food site.
http://realmeals.tv/

RealMeals.tv is sorta the YouTube of cooking.
Cooking with quality.
And, it rocks!

For me, I love the section called Pro Meals. Here you can watch short videos (around 5 mins.) of real chefs in their restaurants cooking up their specialties.

When blogged about my fresh pasta Spaetzle and my Gyros-crusted LambBurgers back in April - RealMeals.tv was the inspiration. (You can read more about those dishes by checking out the April Archives to the right.)

I saw how quickly and easily the chef made the dish and I thought, "Hey, I can DO that." And, now I make a pretty darn good LambBurger. (Besides searing the outside with spices I also grind up a mixture in my spice-designated coffee grinder and add it to the meat patties. Yum.)

Do you have delusions of grandeur that would floor even Han Solo?
Want to share your recipe with the world?
Star in your own food video!
Upload it!

Now, I love RealMeals.tv because of it's ProMeals section and quite frankly, again, it's overall quality.

But... just for fun...
I'll also include a link to another cooking site, "I'm Cooked."
Here, Christopher Walken uploaded a short video with him cooking his favorite poultry dish, Chicken with Pears.
Click

But,for quality sake,
RealMeals.tv gets my vote.

As Christmas approaches and we look for tasty recipes to serve our loved ones, click over to RealMeals.tv and let one of their ProMeals inspire you.

*And, no, I'm not affiliated.
I just think RealMeals.tv rocks.