pease porridge

Dash the Curry

Finally, I've hit a stretch of books about food and cooking that I'm actually enjoying; I'm getting tired of writing bad reviews and I'm sure you're as tired, if not more, of reading them. 

First up is Curry: A Tale of Cooks and Conquerors, by Lizzie Collingham, which traces the development of Indian cuisine such as we here in the West recognize it.  Collingham straight up challenges the idea of 'authentic' cuisine; the story she tells involves food-culture clash across the subcontinent, starting with the Persians of the Mughal Empire and ending with, well, actually, it's really a neverending process.  There are some fascinating anecdotes and startling revelations, and it's all woven together in a vaguely chronological narrative that's easy to read and mostly interesting and enjoyable.

The chapters are organized around particular dishes which, although most would consider them to be classic Indian fare, demonstrate how global and flexible food culture really is.  From vindaloo (an Indian version of the Portugese vinho e alhos), to chai (an Indian variation on tea, which was  originally introduced to the subcontinent by the British), to curry (a blanket term that the British applied to any spicy sauce with meat served over rice), Collingham explores the effects of commerce and colonization on cuisine.

Scattered throughout are recipes; some historical (like grilled black rat), and some modernized.  I can't vouch for all of them (especially the rat), but the Chicken Biryani (which is too involved to go into here, but which will certainly get a post of its own someday very soon) at least was delicious.  There's also this really adorable map that has little tags on it like, 'the place where the British officer found the kebabs too greasy' so you can easily match the anecdotes to the geography, and some nice illustrations, too.

In short, it's a pretty fantastic read if you are the sort of person who's interested in food and culture, which, if you're reading this blog, I like to imagine you are.

Smackaroni and Cheese

Some foods aim at pleasing our palate, others go for our heart; macaroni and cheese bypasses all that and goes straight for some undiscovered part of our primitive monkey brain.  Don't ask me how we monkeys developed a deep-seated biological need for the stuff, but lurking somewhere in our heads is the Platonic form of macaroni and cheese that we all strive for.

I suspect that it has something to do with the marketing people; commercials for various boxed products look so perfect that the disappointment when you actually taste one of said products is profound.  This dissonance creates some sort of Freudian phenomenon wherein we form an intense relationship with our inner macaroni and cheese.

Consider the recipe in the NYTimes (the article's expired, so I'm linking instead to Slate's review of the recipe) earlier this year that was one of the most emailed articles of that week.  It's clear that people yearn for something more than the macaroni and cheese that they've got.

This is where I come in, with a little help from Patrick O'Connell's Refined American Cuisine.  Don't worry!  This is not a frou-frou gourmet version; okay, well, yes it is, but if you leave off the shaved white truffle and the parmesan lace basket from the presentation, what you have left is the exact creamy, dreamy macaroni and cheese that you crave.

Tea (to go with your scones)

My husband and I had our first date at the Tealuxe in Harvard Square; he doesn't like coffee, and the Burdick's hadn't opened yet, so tea was the best option for a friendly outing.  Several years later, when we got married, we gave away little sachets of tea as favors.  In a way, our relationship has a steady stream of tea running through it.

These days, more often than not we stay in and make our own tea.  A while ago, a good friend of ours (hi Brenda!) recommended Rishi Tea to us, and I have to confess that I buy more of their brand than any other, and we do go through a fair amount; even the kids drink tea (well, decaf herbal teas, which aren't technically tea, but you know what I mean). 

Rishi makes organic, fair trade, loose leaf teas that are delicious and often beautiful.  Their leaves are whole and healthy-looking, and they use lots of flowers and whole spices in their blends.

Recently, Rishi came out with a line of 'Ancient Tree' teas, which are harvested from ancient, heirloom tea trees in Yunnan, China.  Not only do I think this sort of sustainable, equitable partnership is a great idea, but it also makes for a great cup of tea.

We bought the Ancient Tree Earl Grey, and it is much smoother and less tannic than their regular (still excellent) Earl Grey.  The bergamot is strong but not off-puttingly so, and the tea is really almost rich.  It's an excellent cup to drink with your scones in the (late) morning (and an excellent exuse to use one of those six teapots you received as wedding presents).

Scones (to put honey on)

In addition to the several shelves of cookbooks that I have, in my kitchen I've got a file box full of recipes dilligently cut from magazines or printed from online sources or gotten at food festivals and the like.  Liberally sprinkled throughout are the photocopies that I made of my mom's recipe binder when I left home.  They were, for the most part, handwritten on lined paper; many of them are credited to a relative or a friend, some of whom I only vaguely remember, a few of them I never met.

This is the food of my childhood.  I'm not going to say that I love each and every one of these recipes.  I don't.  I do, however, love that they're there.  That I have them around for when I need a reminder of my youth, or to feel like part of a culinary heritage.

My mom's scone recipe is very simple and plain.  It looks like either she copied it in a hurry, or she copied it from someone else who copied it in a hurry.  But it works.  In a world of a million-million scone recipes, these are dependable, tried and true.  Make them and you'll understand why they've lasted so long, and why I'll pass them on to my own kids someday.

Rare Hawaiian Organic White Honey

And, speaking of honey... Many have been the times that I have passed this little jar on the shelf and wondered: what makes this honey so rare and so blessed that it sells for fourteen dollars when I can get five times as much plain ol' clover honey for several bucks less?

Well, having a food blog does come with some perks; to whit, that I may occasionally allow myself to buy expensive food items that I otherwise wouldn't, in the name of my blog readers who have been simply dying to know whether or not this little jar is worth so much dough.  I know you've been secretly agonizing about it - no, don't deny it!  Fortunately, fortunately, you have me to take that honey-coated bullet for you.

Robbing the Bees

I recently finished reading Robbing the Bees: A Biography of Honey, by Holley Bishop, and, while it inspired me to think a little bit more about honey (and taste a little bit more), I was ultimately disappointed by the book.  It started out pretty well; the author's obsession with bees was contagious and her writing style was as easy and fluid as warm honey.  Unfortunately, later chapters were less about her relationship with her bees and more about laundry lists of references to bees and honey in literature, religion, science and culture.

Bishop follows around a seasoned honeybee wrangler and describes the seasons as he and his bees experience them, and these parts are definitely the most interesting.  The book starts out just before Tupelo season, with frantic preparations followed by an even more frantic harvest, and ends with the bees peacefully hibernating in their (very short) Florida winter.

Although it's loosely organized through this seasonal progression, the chapters are also each focused on particular honeybee products or functions, such as honey, wax, medicine, pollen, etc., and it's here that the book falls down.  The meat of these chapters seems to be stuff the author found in other people's books/the internet and just paraphrased to fill out her wordcount.  Some of it is interesting, but a lot of it is so vague as to be pretty much useless.

These chapters are punctuated with short interludes about the author's own experiences raising bees as a hobby, and these are probably the best parts.  I think if it were a much slimmer volume about her own experiences and those of Smiley, her honey-farming friend, it would've been a lot more successful.  As it is, I wouldn't recommend this book unless you're doing a superficial study of honeybees and want a one-stop clearinghouse of vaguely interesting facts (and for some reason don't have access to the internet or a local library).

CSA PSA

I am officially the proud owner of a share of the Waltham Fields Community Farm CSA!  Beginning June 11th, I get to go and pick up a family-sized (two adults and an unspecified number of kids, according to the web site) stash of veggies (and the occasional fruit, herb, and flower) every week for 20 whole weeks.

CSA is short for Community Supported Agriculture, and what Waltham Fields does (in addition to growing produce for hunger relief efforts, and running outreach educational programs) is portion out its harvest equally among its shareholders, who, in turn, provide a secure customer base for the farm.  Because they're beholden to local shareholders, rather than the agrobuisiness machine, they can grow all kinds of produce that doesn't necessarily store or ship well (or look perfect), but that tastes fabulous.

Mmm... I'm looking at their harvest schedule and salivating.  I can't wait for June!

How To Kill People With Food Part Two: Tactics

In our previous installation I talked about how to build a menu for a special-occasion-type meal, whether it be Sunday dinner or having friends over or a birthday party, it doesn't matter.  The same basic principles apply, more or less.  This time around I'd like to talk about how to actually make that special meal without driving yourself nuts or blowing up the kitchen, or something really embarrassing, like undercooking the chicken (I've done at least two of those, but I'm not telling which).

My first point, and I know that everybody says this but I really, really mean it, is that you want to get everything you can done early, so you're not stuck in the kitchen while everyone else is in the living room drinking champagne and having a good time and eating all your fabulous hors d'oeuvres. 

Let me say that again: unless you're cooking for maybe some relatives or people you don't like very much and therefore you want to hide out in the kitchen all night (And really, why are you doing that?  If it's people you don't really care about why not just order takeout or, better yet, pull down the shades and pretend no one's home.), or maybe, if you're like my family, you all enjoy cooking together, make most of dinner something you can at least prep for ahead of time.

Deep-fried anything is right out.