Category Archives: Irreproducible Results

TOS gently

After assiduously combing the extensive Terms of Service at Serious Eats for a minute, I have reached the legal determination that it’s OK to re-post my comment here.

This was in one of their frequent “post a comment, win a cookbook” threads (Cook the Book). The prompt was to write about a favorite childhood food memory. The theme was inspired by, and inspired, sentimental collections of whatever the hell it was that you ate as a child that was so awesome, and you never have it any more, e.g. Wonder Bread French toast with cream in the batter and grape jelly on top.

I wrote this:

I was seven the first time I had the chance to travel outside North America. My dad was Israeli, and my mom’s family was English, so we took a family trip to Israel and England. This was in 1970, just 3 years after the 6-day war had given Israel control of the eastern half of Jerusalem, including the Old City.

I liked what I knew as “Israeli” food OK. I liked English food better. (Hey, I was seven! Double cream!) I liked pastrami sandwiches and bagels and lox. But the revelation of my first trip abroad came when we went to a sit-down restaurant in the Arab quarter.

I was not a “kid’s food” kid. Whenever we traveled, I always ordered the most exciting, novel-sounding thing on the menu, and my parents always let me. (This included the time when I got food poisoning at age 10 after being permitted to order steak tartare in a restaurant in France.) So I asked for the pigeon.

I didn’t expect anything more out of it than novelty and bragging rights. But I thought that roasted pigeon was one of the most delicious, savory, tender things I’d ever tasted.

I still love pigeon, but fresh pigeon is hard to get in the US. I live in New York, where you almost might as well ask for rat. It’s sometimes sold frozen, e.g. at Dean and Deluca, as “squab.” It’s easiest to find in Chinatown, but in my experience is not always cleaned in Chinese groceries. But in some Mediterranean countries you see dovecotes everywhere.

I’m sure that pigeon (that pigeon) was one of the freshest, least intensively farmed servings of poultry I’ve ever eaten. I don’t want to get all wistful about a bygone Palestinian food culture that I know nothing about–for instance, whether it’s actually bygone. All I know is, I really liked that pigeon.

Dovecoat
Dovecote in Greece, by Imira at Flickr
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Only God can make a peach. And only the chef at El Nuevo Ambiente can make that particular goat stew.

I usually think of cooking as ingredients + techniques. Recipes are supplements. It’s a little dishonest, because I often start with recipes, even if I don’t follow them. Recipes are how I first started cooking. But logically I think of them as secondary phenomena.

When I’m thinking this way, I think that no quality – not daring, not experience, not knowledge, not equipment, certainly not instructions – is more important in the kitchen than humility. Because no matter what I do, how many steps I follow, or how accurately I measure the stupid flour, I am never, ever going to make anything that is anywhere near as complex, as nuanced, or as delicious as a (good) peach. Or, you know, a fruit you actually like.

That’s the recurring theme of many of my household gods – Elizabeth David, Alice Waters – whose wisdom has become so conventional as to be annoying. Great food is all about great ingredients. Everything else is secondary.

But it leaves out another obvious truth (besides the fact of my laziness): there is wonderful, sometimes rather complicated, food that is made without wonderful ingredients. And that’s what most poor people – i.e. most people – eat when they eat well. Because “simple” “peasant” food is freaking expensive, but expertise can be cheap.

There was an eloquent column about this in the New York Times a couple years ago. I think it must have been a response to Michael Pollan’s magnum opus magazinium and the frenzy of snack-time virtue that ensued.

The article — which I can’t find now, so please comment if you remember the author’s name! — wasn’t dissing the wonders of fresh, local food. But it defended as excellent, and worthy of the greatest respect, the marvelous dishes that people make every day using cheap ingredients from the grocery store like dried beans, canned tomatoes, oil, cheap cuts of cheap meat, and bottled spices.

This is the ancient chowhound vs foodie divide, from the point of view of the home kitchen.

Obviously “cheap” depends on your point of view. Cheap meat is incredibly expensive to the planet, to the animals, eventually to billions world wide. But if you don’t have much money, whose point of view are you going to look at your dinner from? If you do have money, whose point of view should you consider before that of people who don’t? And if you are lucky enough to eat a delicious meal, inexpensively but expertly made, from what point of view should you judge it?

ETA: WordPress suggests that this post is connected to articles about “intelligent design” and Glenn Beck. Welcome to blogging, me!

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