The very best food satisfies 3 senses: smell, vision and taste.
Of them, taste is second only to smell in its ability to evoke memories and provoke feelings. The two are inextricably linked. Taste has as much to do with smell as the flavor taste buds detect. And any good dish requires both those elements.
Presentation matters, also. If it doesn't look good, it won't taste good. Our brain plays tricks on us like that. But no matter how nice it looks, if it doesn't taste and smell good, it's waste of time.
For me, Thanksgiving and Christmas are as much about those smells and tastes as anything. When the holiday dinner is in the oven and I return from the inevitable last minute trip to the grocery to get what I forgot the last 3 times I was there, the smells overwhelm me.
I feel immediate peace. The aromas of a roasting turkey, sage dressing and boiling potatoes intermingling remind me that, yes, no matter how bad things are right now, they will be okay. That all life's complicated issues will work themselves out, and that, today, I have a feast.
It's the Scarlett O'Hara principle of time management: "after all, tomorrow is another day."
I have 3 or 4 favorite holiday dishes, but since I cook by touch and not by measure, all the measurements below are estimates. One of the joys of cooking is doing it to your own taste, so consider these to be guidelines only.
It's not baking, where your have to be more precise. That's why I don't bake.
Easy Cranberry Relish
This one I stole from my mother, but, as I told her, what good's a mama if you can't steal her recipes.
Ingredients:
1 can whole-berry cranberry sauce
1 cup raw celery, sliced or diced (at your discretion)
1 Granny Smith apple cored and cut into small chunks (leave the skin on or peel it, again at your discretion)
3/4 cup roasted pecans (I like them chopped and reserve a few halves for garnish)
Directions:
Roast the pecans. I like to use a little butter in a cast iron skillet under medium heat in the oven. If the pan smokes, it's too hot. Just turn it down and roast until semi-crisp.
Then throw everything into a bowl and stir.
It helps to make this ahead of time and refrigerate overnight. The flavors meld better.
For a quick and easy topping, use equal parts of cream cheese, whipping cream and sour cream. Mix them until they achieve a uniform consistency. It should be smooth but stiff.
I don't make the topping any more because of a horrible dairy allergy. (You don't need to know the gory details.) But you can enjoy.
Holiday Fruit Salad
This one can be adapted for almost any season. For the Fall/Winter holidays, I like to use traditional spices to give it darker, richer tones. And you can put whatever fruit you want in it. The only constant is the mixture of citrus and honey. This is my favorite variation.
Ingredients:
1 small to medium cantaloupe, cubed (the riper the better)
1 can pineapple chunks
2 peaches (if you can find them and they're good), peeled and cubed
2 Granny Smith apples, peeled, cored and cut into chunks
1 can mandarin oranges
1 cup each of white and purple grapes cut in half (they absorb the flavors better if they're cut)
1 mango cut into chunks
1 cup sun-dried cherries
1-2 cup honey
juice of 2 oranges, 1 lemon and 2 small limes
cinnamon to taste
nutmeg to taste
clove powder to taste
Directions:
Prepare the fruit that isn't canned. Toss it into a large bowl and add the canned fruit, including the juices. Immediately pour the citrus juices over it to keep some of the ingredients from discoloring. Then, pour the honey over it. Put in enough to achieve a consistency in the liquid that you like.
Season with nutmeg, cinnamon, clove powder to taste. I like a strong clove presence because of the contrast between its flavor and the acidity of the citrus and the sweetness of the honey. A little clove powder goes a long way, as does nutmeg, though, so be cautious. Season, then taste, and tweak the flavors to achieve what you want.
I like to serve it as an appetizer in antique champagne glasses I picked up for almost nothing a few years ago. (I love thrift stores.)
Again, it's best to make it the day before and let sit in the fridge overnight.
Christmas Duck
Duck is a much-maligned meat in this country. But that's because most people don't cook it properly. Well-prepared, it can transform from gamey and greasy to the sublime. It's one of my very favorite Christmas dishes.
I stole the idea from a chef I worked with many years ago and the method from a PBS cooking show.
Ingredients:
1 duck (obviously)
1 medium to small white onion (don't substitute yellow or red)
3-5 cloves
1 stick of butter (don't even think about using margarine)
juice from 2 oranges
1 cups honey
salt to taste (I prefer sea salt)
freshly cracked pepper (If you don't have a pepper grinder, go get one this minute. The difference in flavor between freshly ground and the other kind is nothing short of a religious experience.)
Directions:
Mix the honey and orange.
Soften the butter and then rub it into the bird. Don't be afraid to use your hands. Cooking is, and should be, a very tactile experience. Just wash your hands first.
Poke the cloves into the onion and insert it into the duck's cavity. Cover with tin foil (make a tent), and place it on a wire rack on top of a shallow baking pan.
Throw it into a preheated over (400 degrees or so), and let it cook until a meat thermometer says it's almost done.
Take the tent off and pour 1/3 of the honey and orange mixture over it every 15 minutes.
Let it cook until the skin is a crispy brown.
To make a good sauce for it, take a little of the drippings from the pan, add some red wine (I prefer a decent merlot or cabernet), finely diced white onions (a half a cup or so) and sun dried cherries. You can also use veggie or mushroom stock instead of wine. The wine is better, but a hearty stock will suffice.
Throw your chosen ingredients into a heavy-bottomed skillet with a couple of pats of butter and reduce until it coats a spoon.
Let the bird rest for at least 15 minutes before serving. That's about how long it takes to make the sauce.
With duck, I advise keeping the number of flavors in play to a minimum. You will want to elicit the natural flavor without overpowering it.
If you want to make a statement, do it with the sauce.
Sage Portabellas: a Vegetarian Alternative
We have a vegetarian friend who has Parkinson's and whose only real family is a daughter in Houston. His wife, Molly, died many years ago, and his daughter comes up when she can. He doesn't have the physical ability to do much in the kitchen, and I'm sure the last thing on his daughter's mind after the drive is shopping and cooking.
They're going to spend Thanksgiving with us, so I will cook a parallel meal for John. If you've ever had to make a vegetarian Thanksgiving meal that still tastes like Thanksgiving, you will appreciate the creativity necessary to pull that off without resorting to a tofu loaf.
Stuffed Portabellas are nothing new, but making them taste like Thanksgiving isn't as hard as you might think.
Ingredients:
Four Portabellas with stems attached
Veggie or mushroom stock
1 cup diced celery
1 cup diced onion
3 hard-boiled eggs
2 tbls butter (margarine won't work)
2 cups crumbled cornbread
Fresh sage, julienned, to taste
Salt, to taste
Pepper, to taste
Directions:
Make cornbread. I use a mix from Sun Harvest. I usually make it the night before and let it sit out. That way, it has to time to lose enough moisture to crumble nicely, but not so much that it could be used to pave a road with.
Remove the stems from the mushrooms and wash the heads and stems. Dice the stems into fairly small pieces. Chop the eggs into random small pieces.
Pour about 3 cups of the stock into a medium size heavy-bottomed saucepan. Add 1/3 of the celery, onion, mushroom stems, eggs and some sage. Bring to a boil, then reduce to a simmer and cover.
Take a nap. It'll be a while before it's done.
When you wake up, add the remaining ingredients to the crumbled cornbread. Mix it well with your hands (if they're clean, they're your best mixing tool). Ladle enough of the stock over it to give the mixture a soft consistency.
Spoon the cornbread mixture onto the mushrooms' bottom side. Place in a pre-heated 350-400 degree oven on a baking sheet, stuffing side up.
They only need to cook 15-20 minutes, so time things well. They can keep in a warm oven for a while, but don't overdo it. Otherwise, they come out dry.
While they're cooking, turn the heat up under the liquid in the saucepan and reduce it to a thin gravy. Once it's reduced by about 50%, toss in the butter. Reduce it by another 1/3 or so and take it off the heat.
I like to serve them with some of the gravy on top and a little drizzled around the sides.
In the End
These are just suggestions. Cooking is, and should be, a dynamic, creative process. It should challenge, but not intimidate. It should open your mind (and your palate) to the rich bounty we enjoy. It should feed the soul as much as it nourishes the body.
The first of these recipes I learned from my mother; the second two I developed myself, mostly by trial and error (many errors); and the last I adapted from my mother's methods.
I would love to tell you how to make her chocolate pie, because it's the best I've ever had. But since I don't bake, I've never really paid close attention to how she does it.
I don't cook very often these days, but when I do, I do so passionately. Since the time my grandmother pulled a chair up next to the stove when I was 5 or 6 and let me help her make salmon patties, I've known the true joy of cooking. It is the gift of being able to give something special, whether it's a simple side dish or a luscious duck.
Have fun with the guidelines. None of them are precise. Explore. Innovate. Create. Improve. Make them your own.
If they fail, they fail. That's how we learn. We often learn more from failure than success. Take risks.
That's why God made trash cans and garbage disposals. I've used them more than enough, believe me.
Above all, be ambitious and have fun. Find joy.
10 November 2009
05 November 2009
Let's Talk
Public discourse about things political and social has descended to the level of a school yard brawl, complete with accusations, misrepresentations, name-calling, button-pushing and down-right lies. The habits and tactics that define the contemporary conversations about these topics reduce exchanges to something less than conversation. Much less. Much, much less.
We have become a culture where rants pass for conversation. We talk a lot, but few listen to anything but the sound of their own voice and those that agree with them. Ideological polarization runs rampant and is condoned and even encouraged by our leaders.
I’m reminded of a passage from Macbeth, an apt description of what passes for public discourse today:
We have become the idiots, loud and furious, but amounting to nothing at the end of the day. One side yells and makes accusations. The other side yells back and makes its own accusations. But neither seek the truth.
Talk radio epitomizes this culture, as well it should. It’s largely responsible for it. I would suggest, however, renaming it “rant radio”.
That’s usually what the shows consist of: a host ranting, making unjustified or unsubstantiated and undocumentable accusations, whipping a radio audience into a lather. All that froth might be good if one is making meringue, but it does nothing to further civil discourse.
The rabble-rousing rant format has spilled over into cable TV and the internet. Someone picks up a rant and forwards it to everyone they know. Pretty soon, untruths and half-truths become urban myth.
The media that pays its bill by supplying the rant pipeline say “It’s just entertainment. It’s not news.” Even as they present the rants in formats that mimic news. They encourage them because they drive ratings.
Both ends of the spectrum are guilty. Guilty as sin.
We live in extraordinary times with extraordinary problems. Problems that we cannot solve by ranting at each other. The problems are too big to be reduced to political fodder. They are real problems that call for real solutions, and today, not tomorrow.
The media has a responsibility to report the news and label opinion as opinion and not try to pass it off as legitimate news. Nor should they hide behind the cover of “entertainment”. They shouldn’t have it both ways.
Until we have civil discourse, we will not be able to solve the big problems that need to be taken care of today because they didn’t get taken care of over the last 40 years.
It’s time.
We have become a culture where rants pass for conversation. We talk a lot, but few listen to anything but the sound of their own voice and those that agree with them. Ideological polarization runs rampant and is condoned and even encouraged by our leaders.
I’m reminded of a passage from Macbeth, an apt description of what passes for public discourse today:
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
We have become the idiots, loud and furious, but amounting to nothing at the end of the day. One side yells and makes accusations. The other side yells back and makes its own accusations. But neither seek the truth.
Talk radio epitomizes this culture, as well it should. It’s largely responsible for it. I would suggest, however, renaming it “rant radio”.
That’s usually what the shows consist of: a host ranting, making unjustified or unsubstantiated and undocumentable accusations, whipping a radio audience into a lather. All that froth might be good if one is making meringue, but it does nothing to further civil discourse.
The rabble-rousing rant format has spilled over into cable TV and the internet. Someone picks up a rant and forwards it to everyone they know. Pretty soon, untruths and half-truths become urban myth.
The media that pays its bill by supplying the rant pipeline say “It’s just entertainment. It’s not news.” Even as they present the rants in formats that mimic news. They encourage them because they drive ratings.
Both ends of the spectrum are guilty. Guilty as sin.
We live in extraordinary times with extraordinary problems. Problems that we cannot solve by ranting at each other. The problems are too big to be reduced to political fodder. They are real problems that call for real solutions, and today, not tomorrow.
The media has a responsibility to report the news and label opinion as opinion and not try to pass it off as legitimate news. Nor should they hide behind the cover of “entertainment”. They shouldn’t have it both ways.
Until we have civil discourse, we will not be able to solve the big problems that need to be taken care of today because they didn’t get taken care of over the last 40 years.
It’s time.
13 October 2009
Famous All Over Town
I will never forget the June afternoon I was driving up Lamar Blvd. and spotted a middle aged man with a beard in a bikini and pumps dragging a cart along the side of the road. I consciously thought, “Now I’ve seen everything. And maybe more than I wanted to see.”
I didn’t know it then, but a local celebrity was having his debut.
He was homeless, and his name was Leslie, I found out later. A nice, ambiguous name for a cross-dresser with a beard. (Remember Leslie Howard from “Gone With the Wind”?)
He slowly became a living legend in Austin, known as much for his affability as his uniqueness. He was fixture downtown, trading on his burgeoning celebrity for drinks. I know I bought him a few, at least.
And he was never shy to pose for a photograph. Most of the time, he loved it.
That has all changed over the weekend. He suffered a head wound that left him in a vegetative state. He’s conscious now, but will have to go to an assisted-living facility, most likely. The outlook was much more dire yesterday.
I know all this because it’s in the paper. How a homeless man in a thong can get major local coverage is a good measure of his celebrity. I’m pulling for him, as is my partner.
We both are acquainted with him, but he probably wouldn’t recognize my name. He might recognize my face, but that’s about it.
Still, I care. I’m not sure Austin would be Austin without him.
I didn’t know it then, but a local celebrity was having his debut.
He was homeless, and his name was Leslie, I found out later. A nice, ambiguous name for a cross-dresser with a beard. (Remember Leslie Howard from “Gone With the Wind”?)
He slowly became a living legend in Austin, known as much for his affability as his uniqueness. He was fixture downtown, trading on his burgeoning celebrity for drinks. I know I bought him a few, at least.
And he was never shy to pose for a photograph. Most of the time, he loved it.
That has all changed over the weekend. He suffered a head wound that left him in a vegetative state. He’s conscious now, but will have to go to an assisted-living facility, most likely. The outlook was much more dire yesterday.
I know all this because it’s in the paper. How a homeless man in a thong can get major local coverage is a good measure of his celebrity. I’m pulling for him, as is my partner.
We both are acquainted with him, but he probably wouldn’t recognize my name. He might recognize my face, but that’s about it.
Still, I care. I’m not sure Austin would be Austin without him.
08 October 2009
Have Mercy
I watched my first episode of "Mercy" last night, and I was impressed, both by the performances and the presentation. I've spent much more time in ER's, CCU's and hospital rooms than I care to remember, so I was surprised that I enjoyed the program. Medical dramas usually end up with me running for a different TV in another room where I can't even hear the other.
I'm more of a PBS guy. I can watch entire civilizations be obliterated by natural disaster, horrific wars and petty dictators who commit atrocities, but I can't watch the hospital shows. My aversion to hospitals runs deep. They remind me of death in a way that even film-noir doesn't.
Still, I enjoyed the show. Like most TV dramas, it exercises a bit of hyperbole for dramatic effect, but that doesn't interfere too much with the story. And that is where the value of a program exists: the story.
Tonight's episode touched on a number of prominent issues, including the nursing shortage and nurses’ professional interaction with physicians. It didn’t portray doctors in a particularly good light, but I’ve often found them to be arrogant and high-handed, unwilling to listen to anything that contradicts their preconceived notions, so I didn’t mind.
When my father was in the hospital and things looked God-awful, his nurse in the CCU told me not to bother with visiting hours, which were only 15 minutes a few times a day. She said that she'd buzz me in any time I showed up.
And since I was pretty sure he wasn't going to make it another day, I couldn't sleep. I wandered over to the CCU and spent the night talking to him. I don't know how much he knew I was there, but at one point he squeezed my hand, ever so gently.
The nurse may have broken protocol, but she was a human being long before she was a nurse.
I’m just glad I wasn’t dealing with a doctor.
When we were leaving the unit for the last time, the same nurse told us that she knew he must have been an extraordinary man. She said that some people come in, die, and no one even visits. We had a roomful of people singing old hymns and saying goodbye. She knew that he had been well-loved.
I could easily see that as a sub-plot line on "Mercy". Maybe a contrast between a patient that is so obviously loved and one who dies alone. And one that draws a line between humanity and protocols.
I'm not sure I could watch either one, though.
Overall, I liked the show, though. It was as realistic as TV can be, and it created sympathy for the characters that made it compelling.
Aristotle first proposed that drama requires sympathy for the protagonists, no matter how flawed they might be. When their flaws brought them down, it became tragedy.
It's very often flaws that make characters interesting, and everyone on "Mercy" seems to have them. They could probably all benefit from a few rounds of good therapy.
But I could say the same about any number of people I know. Including me.
I give it a thumbs-up. It's a compelling, character-driven (and sometimes humorous) melodrama. It addresses not only contemporary nursing issues, but also what life's like when the scrubs come off.
Things like how one copes with the constant exposure to death, disease and debilitation. The absolute, sheer frustration that comes from not being able to fix things. Not being able to make someone better.
I am the eternal optimist that refuses to give up or give in until the bitter end. I hide behind a persona of a jaded, cynical pessimist, but I never give up hope until I have no other choice. The persona is a mask I wear for reasons I only partially understand.
My instinct is to make things better in any way that I can. And that seems to be the underlying theme of “Mercy”. It’s about nurses who sometimes hide behind a mask, but in truth will not give up until they have no other choice.
That kind of drama is more acute and poignant in a hospital setting, where life and death are not abstractions, but a daily reality. Where every choice and action could be the difference between the two.
It’s a job I couldn’t do. I’ll stick to my numbers during the workday and my words at night.
I'm more of a PBS guy. I can watch entire civilizations be obliterated by natural disaster, horrific wars and petty dictators who commit atrocities, but I can't watch the hospital shows. My aversion to hospitals runs deep. They remind me of death in a way that even film-noir doesn't.
Still, I enjoyed the show. Like most TV dramas, it exercises a bit of hyperbole for dramatic effect, but that doesn't interfere too much with the story. And that is where the value of a program exists: the story.
Tonight's episode touched on a number of prominent issues, including the nursing shortage and nurses’ professional interaction with physicians. It didn’t portray doctors in a particularly good light, but I’ve often found them to be arrogant and high-handed, unwilling to listen to anything that contradicts their preconceived notions, so I didn’t mind.
When my father was in the hospital and things looked God-awful, his nurse in the CCU told me not to bother with visiting hours, which were only 15 minutes a few times a day. She said that she'd buzz me in any time I showed up.
And since I was pretty sure he wasn't going to make it another day, I couldn't sleep. I wandered over to the CCU and spent the night talking to him. I don't know how much he knew I was there, but at one point he squeezed my hand, ever so gently.
The nurse may have broken protocol, but she was a human being long before she was a nurse.
I’m just glad I wasn’t dealing with a doctor.
When we were leaving the unit for the last time, the same nurse told us that she knew he must have been an extraordinary man. She said that some people come in, die, and no one even visits. We had a roomful of people singing old hymns and saying goodbye. She knew that he had been well-loved.
I could easily see that as a sub-plot line on "Mercy". Maybe a contrast between a patient that is so obviously loved and one who dies alone. And one that draws a line between humanity and protocols.
I'm not sure I could watch either one, though.
Overall, I liked the show, though. It was as realistic as TV can be, and it created sympathy for the characters that made it compelling.
Aristotle first proposed that drama requires sympathy for the protagonists, no matter how flawed they might be. When their flaws brought them down, it became tragedy.
It's very often flaws that make characters interesting, and everyone on "Mercy" seems to have them. They could probably all benefit from a few rounds of good therapy.
But I could say the same about any number of people I know. Including me.
I give it a thumbs-up. It's a compelling, character-driven (and sometimes humorous) melodrama. It addresses not only contemporary nursing issues, but also what life's like when the scrubs come off.
Things like how one copes with the constant exposure to death, disease and debilitation. The absolute, sheer frustration that comes from not being able to fix things. Not being able to make someone better.
I am the eternal optimist that refuses to give up or give in until the bitter end. I hide behind a persona of a jaded, cynical pessimist, but I never give up hope until I have no other choice. The persona is a mask I wear for reasons I only partially understand.
My instinct is to make things better in any way that I can. And that seems to be the underlying theme of “Mercy”. It’s about nurses who sometimes hide behind a mask, but in truth will not give up until they have no other choice.
That kind of drama is more acute and poignant in a hospital setting, where life and death are not abstractions, but a daily reality. Where every choice and action could be the difference between the two.
It’s a job I couldn’t do. I’ll stick to my numbers during the workday and my words at night.
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