There's one thing to be said about Americans. We've certainly embraced other cultures. Well some of us anyway. Some of us are under the impression that tacos are Navajo when they're hardly even Mexican. Not the way we eat them anyway.
I've been thinking about Japanese food lately. Mainly about the fact that I haven't had any decent sushi or any Japanese cuisine for that matter. I suppose it would have to do with the fact that I haven't been to one of my favorite haunts here in Provo called Demae in a long time. It's quite a popular place even if only to those who have experienced authentic Japanese food before.
The general American idea of sushi is not what sushi is all about. For example, I once met a guy from Hawaii who served me "Hawaiian" sushi. It was nothing more than Spam (Yes, Spam - or Stuff Posing As Meat) brushed with teriyaki sauce and wrapped, with sushi rice, in seaweed. Ick.
I once saw a Japanese nature show where a bunch of Japanese went salmon fishing in Alaska. One held up the salmon while another squeezed the roe out into the hands of yet another who slurped the salmon eggs right up. MMM now that's fresh sushi. There's a restaurant in Kobe where you sit aroung a tank of fish. Everything on the menu is in the tank. You order. The chef's assistant catches your order and the chef cleans and prepares the fish so fast that the fish is still gasping for air when it arrives to your table, sitting on a bed of crushed ice. And yes, I do mean the WHOLE fish.
There's more to Japanese food than raw fish, though. There are two things specifically that I miss. One can be found in many Japanese restaurants and that is Sukiyaki. Loosely translated, it means "Fry as you like". I was invited to dinner by this one family in a small town called Iwanuma. The husband was a carpenter who had built his own sukiyaki table. It was a small table, probably about two feet square with a gas burner in the middle. His wife filled a small cast-iron pot that reminded me of a cauldron Harry Potter might have used, with sukiyaki sauce, beef, bok choy, chrysanthemum and tofu among other things. The idea with sukiyaki is to take out a piece of whatever you want with chop sticks, dip it in soy and eat the piece with a bite of rice and then dive in for another piece. The difference is, in Japan, they'll take one egg per person, scrambled with the chop sticks in a little bowl. When you grab what ever it is you want from the pot, you dip it in the raw scrambled egg and then the soy sauce. Awesome! If you like over-easy or sunny-side up eggs, this is a treat.
There's one other thing I miss about Japanese food that you can't get here in America (But I bet you could in Cal or Hawaii) and it is called Okonomiyaki. Notice the yaki at the end? That means "fry" as in "stirfry". Another family I knew in a town called Shiogama took us to an Okonomiyaki-ya. We were given our own room. The table (we sat on the floor of course) had a flat-top griddle in the middle. It was kind of a self-serve Benihanna. Everything you could want was listed on the mural-like menu on the wall. The husband used an intercom to order for us. A young woman brought our order of raw vegetables and fish with a separate bowl of eggs and flour. After cooking the vegetables and fish on the griddle, he mixed the eggs and flour together to make a batter and poured it over the cooked food, making something like a stir-fry pancake. Top it off with a little seaweed flakes and tonkatsu sauce and it's like heaven!
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Thursday, January 29, 2009
It's only Hell if you let it be
I just finished watching the season premier of Hell's Kitchen. Personally, I prefer Kitchen Nightmares. Gordon Ramsey, in all his iconic fury does have a point in going nose to nose with unhygienic ignorant miscreants. I've had the misfortune of working with a few of those.
The problem with Hell's Kitchen is most people think it's not realistic or at least not as realistic as Kitchen Nightmares, and after the last two seasons I was inclined to agree. But this season ( I know it's only been one episode so far) has been as realistic as I've seen.
Now, rest assured, I'm not the type to go swearing and screaming (well, not swearing, at least), but Gordon Ramsey is as real as they come. I've been on both the receiving and giving end. All chef's have a certain air about them when it comes to food. Nothing is perfect enough. We are true artists in the fact that when customers say it is perfect, we sigh and say it never will be. And when the customers say that it is crap, we chefs will proudly say it has always been perfect from the start and the customer is, in the words of Mr. Potatohead in Toy Story, an "uncultured swine!"
Working in a professional kitchen is like being in the Army. There's a chain of command that must be followed or good men and women will die. The Drill Sargent does his best to break the "maggot's" spirit so the soldiers will learn respect and listen to the sargent. When they do that, they live. If they don't listen, they will die in the heat of the battle.
Think of the John Wayne movie "Sands of Iwo Jima". The Duke's character, Sgt. Striker was reprimanded for beating a private for disprespecting his authority. The private later, while on the island of Iwo Jima, was responsible for the deaths of two of his platoon-mates because he didn't listen to his sargent.
In the kitchen, the chef teaches, leads and orders. If the grunts on the line don't listen, the kitchen goes down. It's all about discipline. It's not that Gordon Ramsey is an egotistical hothead (Ok, well he is a chef. But still!), he's working the wanna-be chefs until they cry, because then, and only then will they understand what it takes to be a kitchen general. The general has to be tough. Has to command respect. Has to look his minions in the eye, say nothing, and watch the little runt quiver in fear. The minute the general lets his (or her) guard down, that private, who has asperations of being a general, will take advantage. When that happens, there's nothing left for the general to do but retire because the battle is lost.
The problem with the contestants on the show is they all are green, freshly shaven grunts in boot camp that think they are the next best thing in a toque and chef's coat. One even called himself a cooking God. Those are the ones that will get themselves and those around them killed in action. The ones that listen, the ones that sacrifice themselves for the cause are the ones that ultimately rise to that top spot.
So, is Gordon Ramsey vile, rude and egotistical? Sure...but he's right.
The problem with Hell's Kitchen is most people think it's not realistic or at least not as realistic as Kitchen Nightmares, and after the last two seasons I was inclined to agree. But this season ( I know it's only been one episode so far) has been as realistic as I've seen.
Now, rest assured, I'm not the type to go swearing and screaming (well, not swearing, at least), but Gordon Ramsey is as real as they come. I've been on both the receiving and giving end. All chef's have a certain air about them when it comes to food. Nothing is perfect enough. We are true artists in the fact that when customers say it is perfect, we sigh and say it never will be. And when the customers say that it is crap, we chefs will proudly say it has always been perfect from the start and the customer is, in the words of Mr. Potatohead in Toy Story, an "uncultured swine!"
Working in a professional kitchen is like being in the Army. There's a chain of command that must be followed or good men and women will die. The Drill Sargent does his best to break the "maggot's" spirit so the soldiers will learn respect and listen to the sargent. When they do that, they live. If they don't listen, they will die in the heat of the battle.
Think of the John Wayne movie "Sands of Iwo Jima". The Duke's character, Sgt. Striker was reprimanded for beating a private for disprespecting his authority. The private later, while on the island of Iwo Jima, was responsible for the deaths of two of his platoon-mates because he didn't listen to his sargent.
In the kitchen, the chef teaches, leads and orders. If the grunts on the line don't listen, the kitchen goes down. It's all about discipline. It's not that Gordon Ramsey is an egotistical hothead (Ok, well he is a chef. But still!), he's working the wanna-be chefs until they cry, because then, and only then will they understand what it takes to be a kitchen general. The general has to be tough. Has to command respect. Has to look his minions in the eye, say nothing, and watch the little runt quiver in fear. The minute the general lets his (or her) guard down, that private, who has asperations of being a general, will take advantage. When that happens, there's nothing left for the general to do but retire because the battle is lost.
The problem with the contestants on the show is they all are green, freshly shaven grunts in boot camp that think they are the next best thing in a toque and chef's coat. One even called himself a cooking God. Those are the ones that will get themselves and those around them killed in action. The ones that listen, the ones that sacrifice themselves for the cause are the ones that ultimately rise to that top spot.
So, is Gordon Ramsey vile, rude and egotistical? Sure...but he's right.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
The Snail Knows Best
One of my cousins gave my mom a book written by a British expat living in Paris named Stephen Clarke. It's called "Talk to the Snail : Ten Commandments for Understanding the French". There's a chapter that talks about France's famous command of the culinary arts and I just had to share a part of that chapter :
"Here is a typical week’s worth of midday meals served at a certain Parisian establishment. Read it and try to guess who was eating this food.
Monday
Tuesday
Wednesday
Lettuce and avocado, fried steak and flageolet beans, Saint-Neclaire cheese, fruit cocktail
Thursday
Potato salad with tarragon, turkey curry with green beans, Pyrenean cheese, seasonal fruit
Friday
Carrot, cabbage and sweet corn salad, cod in hollandaise sauce, rice and vegetables, Camembert, chocolate sauce
So who was eating these lunches? The regulars at a menu fixe restaurant? The workers in one of Paris’s museums? The Staff of Air France?
No. It’s a typical weeks worth of (cafeteria) menus in the schools of Paris’s 4th arrondissment.
The French don’t need a celebrity chef to tell their schools how to feed kids. And they are strong believers in educating the taste buds of the young generation. Not just to ensure future customers for French farmers, but also to try and make sure that the kids don’t turn into three-hamburgers-a-day food yobs.
Make no mistake. French kids love to go to fast-food places, and dream of having French fries with every meal. But schools are places where you’re supposed to learn les bonnes manièrs, and that includes the ‘right’ diet. The menus aren’t monastic - there are lots of sugary desserts - but they are obligatory (except for religious variants) and educate the palate just as compulsory long division shapes the mind. There are probably more herbs, spices and types of cheese in a month’s school menus than some American children eat in a lifetime."
"Here is a typical week’s worth of midday meals served at a certain Parisian establishment. Read it and try to guess who was eating this food.
Monday
Beetroot salad with croutons, lamb couscous with semolina and boiled vegetables, sweetened yoghurt, seasonal fruit
Tuesday
Grated carrot salad with lemon-juice dressing, roast pork with mustard sauce, peas, Gruyere cheese, fromage blanc with fruit in syrup
Wednesday
Lettuce and avocado, fried steak and flageolet beans, Saint-Neclaire cheese, fruit cocktail
Thursday
Potato salad with tarragon, turkey curry with green beans, Pyrenean cheese, seasonal fruit
Friday
Carrot, cabbage and sweet corn salad, cod in hollandaise sauce, rice and vegetables, Camembert, chocolate sauce
So who was eating these lunches? The regulars at a menu fixe restaurant? The workers in one of Paris’s museums? The Staff of Air France?
No. It’s a typical weeks worth of (cafeteria) menus in the schools of Paris’s 4th arrondissment.
The French don’t need a celebrity chef to tell their schools how to feed kids. And they are strong believers in educating the taste buds of the young generation. Not just to ensure future customers for French farmers, but also to try and make sure that the kids don’t turn into three-hamburgers-a-day food yobs.
Make no mistake. French kids love to go to fast-food places, and dream of having French fries with every meal. But schools are places where you’re supposed to learn les bonnes manièrs, and that includes the ‘right’ diet. The menus aren’t monastic - there are lots of sugary desserts - but they are obligatory (except for religious variants) and educate the palate just as compulsory long division shapes the mind. There are probably more herbs, spices and types of cheese in a month’s school menus than some American children eat in a lifetime."
All I can say is, "AMEN!" Honestly, I think we put way too much emphasis on "convenience" and not enough on enjoyment. "Stop and smell the roses", they say. I say, "Savor the flavors." How can anyone find comfort in food if you don't take the time and effort to enjoy them?
Bon Apetite!
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Fejon, Fejon, Fejon!
My sister Karen once gave me a T-shirt that said, "Potential Nobel Prize Winner." One of my nephews asked which prize I'd win. I had to answer, "All of them," of course. Cooking is all about physics and chemistry. I love to write recipes and about food in general so there's the Literature prize. And then there's Peace. Everyone loves to eat. Entire nations have been known to set aside petty differences, come together and eat. We just finished a holiday two months ago based on that very concept. Why do we do it? Comfort.
To me, there is nothing more important than comfort food. The concept of comfort food is not lost on the even the simplist of dysfunctional brains. Everyone has their own comfort food. In our family we have many different comfort foods depending on what comfort we're looking for. But the one thing we all agree on anytime or place is Feijoada. Feijoada is the national dish of Brazil. Fejon means "beans" in Portuguese. I think. I don't speak Portuguese. I just repeat what I'm told. Anyway, Feijoada is a black bean stew served over rice. What kind of meat goes in it depends on the region of Brazil. Kind of like our BBQ sauces. There can be as many as seven or so different kinds of meats in Feijoada ranging from beef, pork, chicken or what ever's lurking in the Amazon. It is always served with a salsa (I mean Pico de Gallo) of black olives, green peppers and palmetta (palm hearts).
Here's a recipe my mom got from a Brazilliam woman named Otilia Mourao. Her daughter Vera was married to my dad's best friend Nelson Read who also served an LDS mission in Brazil. Remember, you can use any and as many meats you like.
2 lb black beans, soaked
2 T baking soda
Olive oil
1 lb lean beef, cubed
1 lb pork roast, cubed
1 lb Polish sausage (called Kielbasa) or any good sausage
a dozen or so large Bay leaves
2 large onions, sliced thin
2 T minced garlic
salt and pepper to taste
Soak the beans overnight or up to 24 hours with some baking soda. The baking soda will clean the beans of impurities that cause gas. Rince the beans well, add fresh water and simmer covered for one hour.
In a large hot skillet, slowly brown the meat in some olive oil. Add this and the bay leaves to the beans. In the same skillet, add a little more olive oil and saute the onions and garlic. Add these to the beans as well. Ladle some water from the beans into the skillet and clean the residue from the bottom of the skillet. This will go into the beans as well. Cook, covered, for several hours until the meats are tender and the liquid is reduced so it's nice and thick. Taste for salt and pepper. Serve over cooked white rice and top with the salsa
Olive, Palm Heart Salsa:
1 large sweet green pepper, diced
1 bunch green onions, sliced thin
1 can pitted and sliced black olives
1 can palm hearts, sliced into rounds (This can usually be found in any supermarket next to the canned artichoke hearts)
Put everything and a bowl and add a splash of olive oil, red wine vinegar, garlic salt and a pinch of dried basil, crushed. Let it sit in the refrigerator while the Feijoada is cooking.
A good Feijoada feast is also served with wilted kale cooked with bacon and garlic as well as a platter of sliced oranges. The oranges, I'm told is meant to settle the stomach and aid in digestion.
And don't forget the Guarana! It's a fruit that they use to make all different kinds of drinks. The most common is a soft drink. It's becoming more and more popular here in the U.S. but be careful and choose the soft drinks. There are energy drinks out there that have guarana in them that have more natural caffiene than a double espresso. I saw one that even came with a warning label! The soft drink actually has less caffiene than Coke or Pepsi, so I'm told. At any rate, it is a must with Feijoada. Sometimes I drink it just for the heck of it. It has kind of an apple-y taste to it. I like to twist an orange slice into it. I got that idea from a restaurant here in Provo called Tucanos.
So that's my comfort food in a nutshell. Or at least one of them. I have many, but Feijoada tops them all.
To me, there is nothing more important than comfort food. The concept of comfort food is not lost on the even the simplist of dysfunctional brains. Everyone has their own comfort food. In our family we have many different comfort foods depending on what comfort we're looking for. But the one thing we all agree on anytime or place is Feijoada. Feijoada is the national dish of Brazil. Fejon means "beans" in Portuguese. I think. I don't speak Portuguese. I just repeat what I'm told. Anyway, Feijoada is a black bean stew served over rice. What kind of meat goes in it depends on the region of Brazil. Kind of like our BBQ sauces. There can be as many as seven or so different kinds of meats in Feijoada ranging from beef, pork, chicken or what ever's lurking in the Amazon. It is always served with a salsa (I mean Pico de Gallo) of black olives, green peppers and palmetta (palm hearts).
Here's a recipe my mom got from a Brazilliam woman named Otilia Mourao. Her daughter Vera was married to my dad's best friend Nelson Read who also served an LDS mission in Brazil. Remember, you can use any and as many meats you like.
2 lb black beans, soaked
2 T baking soda
Olive oil
1 lb lean beef, cubed
1 lb pork roast, cubed
1 lb Polish sausage (called Kielbasa) or any good sausage
a dozen or so large Bay leaves
2 large onions, sliced thin
2 T minced garlic
salt and pepper to taste
Soak the beans overnight or up to 24 hours with some baking soda. The baking soda will clean the beans of impurities that cause gas. Rince the beans well, add fresh water and simmer covered for one hour.
In a large hot skillet, slowly brown the meat in some olive oil. Add this and the bay leaves to the beans. In the same skillet, add a little more olive oil and saute the onions and garlic. Add these to the beans as well. Ladle some water from the beans into the skillet and clean the residue from the bottom of the skillet. This will go into the beans as well. Cook, covered, for several hours until the meats are tender and the liquid is reduced so it's nice and thick. Taste for salt and pepper. Serve over cooked white rice and top with the salsa
Olive, Palm Heart Salsa:
1 large sweet green pepper, diced
1 bunch green onions, sliced thin
1 can pitted and sliced black olives
1 can palm hearts, sliced into rounds (This can usually be found in any supermarket next to the canned artichoke hearts)
Put everything and a bowl and add a splash of olive oil, red wine vinegar, garlic salt and a pinch of dried basil, crushed. Let it sit in the refrigerator while the Feijoada is cooking.
A good Feijoada feast is also served with wilted kale cooked with bacon and garlic as well as a platter of sliced oranges. The oranges, I'm told is meant to settle the stomach and aid in digestion.
And don't forget the Guarana! It's a fruit that they use to make all different kinds of drinks. The most common is a soft drink. It's becoming more and more popular here in the U.S. but be careful and choose the soft drinks. There are energy drinks out there that have guarana in them that have more natural caffiene than a double espresso. I saw one that even came with a warning label! The soft drink actually has less caffiene than Coke or Pepsi, so I'm told. At any rate, it is a must with Feijoada. Sometimes I drink it just for the heck of it. It has kind of an apple-y taste to it. I like to twist an orange slice into it. I got that idea from a restaurant here in Provo called Tucanos.
So that's my comfort food in a nutshell. Or at least one of them. I have many, but Feijoada tops them all.
Monday, December 29, 2008
Save the Turkeys! Eat a Ham!
Well I hope you all had a good Christmas Holiday. Mine was (and still is) delicious. I'm still working on leftovers! We did a roast lamb this year with a nice Provencal marinade that consisted of simply fresh minced garlic, rosemary, thyme, basil, oregano, sage, parsely, lavender buds (you read right!), and olive oil. I find it odd that we Americans go through all that trouble to cook a turkey for Thanksgiving just to do it all over again a month later! I mean really, I just finished the leftover turkey and now I have to do it all over again? Nuh-uh. I don't think so. What's this blog about? Expanding our culinary horizons! So think about this next Christmas. Don't do another turkey! Do a roast or a ham. One year my mom and I even did a Harry Potter Christmas. For those hunters out there, try some venison or elk or goose or duck or Peanutbutter and Jelly Sandwiches! Ok, nevermind. But seriously, I love turkey but enough is enough!
There are certain things we have to have for Christmas in my family, some of which go back several generations. My grandfather Clarence Crandall served an LDS mission in Germany in the mid'1930's during the rise of Hitler. This led to a long carreer as a G-man, a Hoover, a Suit, a Fed. Yeah, he was in the FBI. His years in Germany also introduced our world to what became known as "Stinky Fish and Stinky Cheese". They are delicacies that my grandfather loved but my grandmother couldn't stand. So, they compromised and he was allowed "said delicacies" once a year during Christmas. The stinky fish is simply marinated herring. My mother is the only one who likes it. She says it reminds her of Christmas in New York. The stinky cheese is something called a Liptauer Cheesepot. Its a kind of cheese spread that is very sharp and robust, mainly because it has anchovies in it. Eventually my mom added a third German delicacy - Braunschweiger, or more commonly known as liverwurst. Store bought liverwurst is ok, but my mom's is "sehr gut!" Next to crunching pecans its my second favorite Christmas memory. Foodwise, that is. Nothing says Christmas like a bowl full of pecans and a platter of liverwurst, "stinky cheese" and crackers. If anyone wants the recipe, let me know.
Recently my sister Catherine came up for an idea for a new tradition that really doesn't have anything to do with Christmas at all. My dad did his missionary work in Brazil. So, naturally, there's a certain love affair with Brazilian food, especially Feijoada which is a black bean stew with about seven different kinds of meat and sausages and it's served over rice with a pico de gallo of black olives and palm hearts. MM MM MM. Sorry I drifted off for a second. Where was I? I know! I was in Brazil! Anyway, so now, every Christmas Eve we all get together for a Brazilian Feast. Don't forget the guarana!
I'm already planning something for next year. We got this idea from Bravo Channel's Top Chef. Their challenge was The Twelve Days of Christmas. You know, a partridge in a pear tree and all that. Twelve courses. Wow. What am I gonna do for Nine Ladies Dancing?! I'll let you know how it turns out, if I survive the feast hehe.
Until then - See you next year!
There are certain things we have to have for Christmas in my family, some of which go back several generations. My grandfather Clarence Crandall served an LDS mission in Germany in the mid'1930's during the rise of Hitler. This led to a long carreer as a G-man, a Hoover, a Suit, a Fed. Yeah, he was in the FBI. His years in Germany also introduced our world to what became known as "Stinky Fish and Stinky Cheese". They are delicacies that my grandfather loved but my grandmother couldn't stand. So, they compromised and he was allowed "said delicacies" once a year during Christmas. The stinky fish is simply marinated herring. My mother is the only one who likes it. She says it reminds her of Christmas in New York. The stinky cheese is something called a Liptauer Cheesepot. Its a kind of cheese spread that is very sharp and robust, mainly because it has anchovies in it. Eventually my mom added a third German delicacy - Braunschweiger, or more commonly known as liverwurst. Store bought liverwurst is ok, but my mom's is "sehr gut!" Next to crunching pecans its my second favorite Christmas memory. Foodwise, that is. Nothing says Christmas like a bowl full of pecans and a platter of liverwurst, "stinky cheese" and crackers. If anyone wants the recipe, let me know.
Recently my sister Catherine came up for an idea for a new tradition that really doesn't have anything to do with Christmas at all. My dad did his missionary work in Brazil. So, naturally, there's a certain love affair with Brazilian food, especially Feijoada which is a black bean stew with about seven different kinds of meat and sausages and it's served over rice with a pico de gallo of black olives and palm hearts. MM MM MM. Sorry I drifted off for a second. Where was I? I know! I was in Brazil! Anyway, so now, every Christmas Eve we all get together for a Brazilian Feast. Don't forget the guarana!
I'm already planning something for next year. We got this idea from Bravo Channel's Top Chef. Their challenge was The Twelve Days of Christmas. You know, a partridge in a pear tree and all that. Twelve courses. Wow. What am I gonna do for Nine Ladies Dancing?! I'll let you know how it turns out, if I survive the feast hehe.
Until then - See you next year!
Sunday, November 23, 2008
It's Fruitcake Weather, Buddy!
Ah, Truman Capote. His "Christmas Memory" has always been one of my favorite short stories. This is mainly due to the fact that I can relate to a part of the story where Buddy and his cousin go collecting pecans for their fruitcake. One of my fondest memories of Christmas in Phoenix is pecans.
We had a huge and very old pecan tree that produced pounds and pounds of pecans each Fall. My mom would send me out a few times each week to shake the tree and collect the pecans which I would put in a 5 gallon bucket. We would sit in front of the TV on Christmas Eve and New Years Eve and crack pecans while watching college bowl games. It was before the days of the BCS so the games actually meant something then. If I remember right, it was usually the Independence Bowl and the Peach Bowl which, sadly, don't exist anymore. Even to this day I love pecans, probably more than any nut. Yes, even more than peanuts.
We sold the house on West Virginia Avenue in 1984. We called Santa Barbara, California home, but Phoenix was, and still is, where our family, and hearts, lived. During one visit, we drove to our old house and saw a painful site. The pecan tree was gone. The new owners had cut it down. It was like losing a member of the family. This house my sisters and I grew up in (our little brother was too young to remember) was the same one our dad had grown up in. Our parents bought the house from our grandparents, Kent and Lavern in the mid 1960's. The tree predated the family even then, having probably been planted when the house was built in 1940. It was sad to think of that backyard, now empty of those nuts.
Now I live in Utah and still I pine for those nuts. But now, I have to be content to buy them at the grocery store. Utah's climate is too cold and it's altitude too high to support pecan trees. Otherwise I would have planted one by now. I honestly believe that absence not only makes the heart grow stronger, but cravings stronger as well. Each winter, as I watch the snow fall up and down the Wasatch Front, that craving grows stronger. Maybe it's not so much a craving as a longing to relive a memory. The Independence Bowl and Peach Bowl may no longer exist and my winters now are by far more colder than when I was a child, but I will always think of that tree everytime I eat a pecan straight from the shell.
We had a huge and very old pecan tree that produced pounds and pounds of pecans each Fall. My mom would send me out a few times each week to shake the tree and collect the pecans which I would put in a 5 gallon bucket. We would sit in front of the TV on Christmas Eve and New Years Eve and crack pecans while watching college bowl games. It was before the days of the BCS so the games actually meant something then. If I remember right, it was usually the Independence Bowl and the Peach Bowl which, sadly, don't exist anymore. Even to this day I love pecans, probably more than any nut. Yes, even more than peanuts.
We sold the house on West Virginia Avenue in 1984. We called Santa Barbara, California home, but Phoenix was, and still is, where our family, and hearts, lived. During one visit, we drove to our old house and saw a painful site. The pecan tree was gone. The new owners had cut it down. It was like losing a member of the family. This house my sisters and I grew up in (our little brother was too young to remember) was the same one our dad had grown up in. Our parents bought the house from our grandparents, Kent and Lavern in the mid 1960's. The tree predated the family even then, having probably been planted when the house was built in 1940. It was sad to think of that backyard, now empty of those nuts.
Now I live in Utah and still I pine for those nuts. But now, I have to be content to buy them at the grocery store. Utah's climate is too cold and it's altitude too high to support pecan trees. Otherwise I would have planted one by now. I honestly believe that absence not only makes the heart grow stronger, but cravings stronger as well. Each winter, as I watch the snow fall up and down the Wasatch Front, that craving grows stronger. Maybe it's not so much a craving as a longing to relive a memory. The Independence Bowl and Peach Bowl may no longer exist and my winters now are by far more colder than when I was a child, but I will always think of that tree everytime I eat a pecan straight from the shell.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Me salsa es su salsa
Ok, so last post I promised a salsa recipe. First I’d like to show the difference between Pico de Gallo (pronounced ‘gah-yo’) and salsa. Salsa is Spanish for “sauce”. Salsa Verde, is green chili sauce. Salsa Picante is hot sauce. Pico de Gallo on the other hand means “peck of the rooster”. Why it’s called that I have no idea and every Mexican I ask has no idea either. Same thing goes for burros (ok, the rest of the country may call them burritos, but in Arizona they are always called burros). I have no idea why they call them “donkeys” or “little donkeys” The English have funny names for everything they eat, (Bubble and Squeak, anyone?), but at least they know why. So if anyone knows why they are called burros (or burritos), please let me know! Anyway, Pico de Gallo is not salsa. It is a mix of diced fresh tomatoes, onions, chili peppers, cilantro, garlic and either lime juice, vinegar or, hey, why not, both.
Salsa has always been a staple in my house. Every year we grow tomatoes to turn into salsa which my mother cans for just the winter. That’s about how long it lasts in our house. By spring, we’ve either eaten it all or are down to our last bottle. When I was growing up, my Grandma Laverne told me that the best thing for a cold is the hottest salsa you can find. Wouldn’t you believe it if she was right. In fact, after experiencing a bhut jolokia I know she’s right. A good dose of chili peppers warms up the body and sweats out the cold. It’s true! If you don’t believe my Grandma Laverne (Shame on you!), try it yourself. You will believe!
In my opinion, the best salsas are fresh. Nothing is cooked. However, many times, canned tomatoes or tomato sauce is a better bet than fresh tomatoes because they will have a stronger tomato taste. I like to use both.
1 16 oz canned tomatoes - stewed, diced or crushed.
½ - 1 bunch cilantro
1 tsp cumin
1 tsp fresh minced garlic
2 jalapeños or your choice of peppers - seeded, not seeded, it’s your choice
½ white onion, cut in large pieces
2 T lime juice
2 large tomatoes, seeded and cut in large pieces
3 green onions, chopped
Put everything but the fresh tomatoes and green onions in the food processor and blend well. Add the tomatoes and green onions and just pulse the food processor. This will make the salsa nice and chunky. Taste for salt and you can add a little black pepper too if you like.
The great thing about this recipe is nothing is written in stone. You can omit the canned tomatoes and use 4 large tomatoes. You can omit the tomatoes and use 2 canned tomatoes. You can also use tomato sauce if you want.
Here’s something I found while reading about Brazilian food. This is supposedly something from the region of Bahia. It really blew me away when I read it.
1 large tomato, diced
½ white onion, diced
1 bunch cilantro
Juice from one lime
20 (yes twenty!) Serrano or Thai chilies, seeded and chopped
Dash salt and pepper
Mix everything together in a bowl, say your prayers and enjoy!
Salsa has always been a staple in my house. Every year we grow tomatoes to turn into salsa which my mother cans for just the winter. That’s about how long it lasts in our house. By spring, we’ve either eaten it all or are down to our last bottle. When I was growing up, my Grandma Laverne told me that the best thing for a cold is the hottest salsa you can find. Wouldn’t you believe it if she was right. In fact, after experiencing a bhut jolokia I know she’s right. A good dose of chili peppers warms up the body and sweats out the cold. It’s true! If you don’t believe my Grandma Laverne (Shame on you!), try it yourself. You will believe!
In my opinion, the best salsas are fresh. Nothing is cooked. However, many times, canned tomatoes or tomato sauce is a better bet than fresh tomatoes because they will have a stronger tomato taste. I like to use both.
1 16 oz canned tomatoes - stewed, diced or crushed.
½ - 1 bunch cilantro
1 tsp cumin
1 tsp fresh minced garlic
2 jalapeños or your choice of peppers - seeded, not seeded, it’s your choice
½ white onion, cut in large pieces
2 T lime juice
2 large tomatoes, seeded and cut in large pieces
3 green onions, chopped
Put everything but the fresh tomatoes and green onions in the food processor and blend well. Add the tomatoes and green onions and just pulse the food processor. This will make the salsa nice and chunky. Taste for salt and you can add a little black pepper too if you like.
The great thing about this recipe is nothing is written in stone. You can omit the canned tomatoes and use 4 large tomatoes. You can omit the tomatoes and use 2 canned tomatoes. You can also use tomato sauce if you want.
Here’s something I found while reading about Brazilian food. This is supposedly something from the region of Bahia. It really blew me away when I read it.
1 large tomato, diced
½ white onion, diced
1 bunch cilantro
Juice from one lime
20 (yes twenty!) Serrano or Thai chilies, seeded and chopped
Dash salt and pepper
Mix everything together in a bowl, say your prayers and enjoy!
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