I just wanted to share the New York Times Magazine piece that Michael Pollan wrote, “Out of the Kitchen, Onto the Couch.”  It’s quite a lengthy piece, and has a lot of information to digest (in true Pollan-canon fashion), but is infinitely enlightening when it comes to talking about the cultural divorce we’ve all taken with cooking.

No one cooks anymore!  We like to watch cooking, we like to talk about cooking, but ultimately, we like the cooking already done for us.  Our appreciation for food has shifted from the process to the final product.  And it’s disturbing.  This is most scathingly evident on the Food Network where I can bet you 7 times out of 10, you’re more likely to find a cooking game show (like Chopped!) than an actual cooking show.  It’s horrendous!  And is primarily why I no longer watch that channel.  However, I am no saint when it comes to practicing what I advocate (which is cooking).

To be honest, unfortunately, I saw a lot of myself in the Pollan article.  I watch cooking programs because I enjoy the spectacle and the sensuality of cooking… but when it comes down to it, I’m more likely to pull out a bag of frozen vegetables, some pasta, and some sandwich meat than attempt the creme fraiche-and-cilantro-topped crab cakes I was just salivating over on the television.  I enjoy shows like “No Reservations” and “Man vs. Food” because they sensationalize the act of eating rather than the process of preparation.  You would think writing a food blog would make me more apt to cook, but honestly, there are some nights I get home and the task seems so daunting that I just don’t have the patience to figure out a recipe, cook it, photograph it, write about it, and then (finally) eat it.  Which is why my posts can be pretty scant/brief/improvisational/pathetic at times.  However, I’m sure you’re not interested in excuses.  The fact is, our societal view on cooking has changed, and to the detriment of our culture.  I am hoping that articles like this, and a bit more dedication from people such as myself, will encourage a cult-of-cooking revival.

First of all, I want to take a moment to pause and thank all of those who have made the ultimate sacrifice in defending our nation’s freedom.  Mitte, Domine, operario in mensam tuam. Messis quidem multa, operarii autem pauci.  Thank you.

On my last book-buying rampage at my local independent bookstore, I picked up a marked-down copy of a cookbook that is quickly becoming a part of my daily ritual.  Italian Two Easy: Simple Recipes from the London River Cafe is a gorgeously photographed compilation of executive chefs Rose Gray and Ruth Rogers’ simplest Italian dishes.  The menu at the LRC focuses on freshness and simplicity: rarely does a recipe in the book contain beyond six or seven ingredients.  I pull this from my shelves on a nearly daily basis, usually just to look at the pictures.  Tonight, though I know it’s probably blashphemous to do anything but barbecue on Memorial Day, I tried my own variation of one of the recipes.  In the book, it’s called “Orcchiette, tomato, ricotta” (all recipes are named by their main ingredients), and instead of orcchiette pasta and basil, I substituted fusilli and baby arugula, respectively.  I.  Loved.  It.  The creamy cheese, tomato and arugula blend reminded me of one of the meals I ate when camping (yes, camping) in Rome during college.  The site we stayed at had a small restaurant attached to the lounge.  After a particularly exhausting day hiking back and forth across the city (we’d neglected to plot our site-seeing out and instead decided the wander method would be best.  I lost a good pair of shoes that day to the Roman cobblestones…), we plopped down at a table and ordered a tableful of pasta.  One dish that came out was a creamy ricotta or marscepone topped pappardelle with tomato sauce.  Tonight, this recipe catapulted me immediately back to that table, back to the gallon of house wine, and back to our waiter’s (Vincenzo… at least that’s what I called him) brilliant gutteral laugh.  The best meals are the ones that link you to moments of your past and bring them to live in your present.

Fusilli, Tomato, and Ricotta (serves 1)

3 small Roma tomatoes

1/2 tbsp olive oil

1 small clove garlic

1/4 cup baby arugula

1/2 cup full-fat ricotta cheese

Salt and pepper to taste

3/4 cup fusilli pasta

1 tbsp freshly grated romano cheese

1)  Chunk Roma tomatoes, drain juice and seeds.  Chop baby arugula, finely mince garlic.  Combine with tomatoes in a bowl, olive oil, and season with salt and pepper.  Set aside for at least 15 minutes to marinate.

2)  Season ricotta with salt and pepper, set aside.

3)  Bring salted water to a boil and prepare fusilli according to package instructions.  Meanwhile, simmer tomato mixture over a low heat.  Combine pasta and tomatoes.  Mix in ricotta last.  Serve with freshly grated romano cheese on top.

ugh, I need new plates. Still: so. good.

Sitting down to write this post, I was trying to think of the many ways in which I could set-up my story.  How I could relate this serendipitous find to some made-for-movie moment, or attempt to draw conclusions between thought and action and discovery.  But, honestly, that would probably be boring to all of you and I’m just not feeling particularly creative.  So, potentially long story short:  I got to meet Michael Pollan.  MICHAEL.  POLLAN.  Author of In Defense of Food and Omnivore’s Dilemma.  American Idol to every urban hippie with an Aerogarden and a Prius.  Here’s proof:

Just look at that devilishly handsome dome.  Put on by West Roxbury Reads, Pollan was in town to talk to the good people of Boston-proper about eating locally and sustainably, and about his book, In Defense of Food, which recently came out in paperback.  

A lot of what he threw out there, I’ve heard before.  In Defense of Food is extremely thorough in the way it presents information about just how severely “nutritional science” and the Western diet have corrupted our health, lifestyle, and environment.  However, there is always a certain thrill in hearing an author read his own words

One point Pollan mentioned in passing that I was particularly drawn to was his assertion of the importance of cooking.  This is something he is absolutely passionate about.  And it makes sense: if everyone would just cook more– and I mean cook, not heat up a bag of Green Giant Steamers– we would see a revolutionary change in our society.  People would be healthier, there would be less waste because it would eliminate a lot of the packaging, and I would even go so far as to say: we’d change the face of American culture.  

American culture, right now, is centered around foods that are cheap and fast: the McDonald’s burger, DQ Blizzard, KFC bucket-o-chicken.  They satisfy this intrinsic need we have for instant gratification, for flashy advertising and brand-recognition, and for existing in a constant state of sensory-overload.  We are so removed from our food (hey, I have no idea how this apple got here, I just know that if I want a Red Delicious on a frigid Tuesday in March, you can for sure bet I can get one); therefore, food becomes this thing.  It becomes an interrupter in our lives (hence the prevalence of on-the-go food) or something associated with enormous amounts of guilt (i.e. every low-fat, no-carb food product or diet book that assaults our eyes every time we walk into a grocery store).  

If we start cooking, we would unearth a new culinary spirit, one that is focused back on the farms and gardens that sustain us, rather than the brands and packaging that market to us.  We would realize that the meal is not only the food, but the time it requires to prepare the food, the elements required to tease out flavor and texture, and the physical effort required by our own hands to physically make a meal.  So, I’m challenging anyone who may read this (as well as myself) to cook just one more meal a week than you normally would.  Just one.  Mix up some pasta agliata at home on a Friday, then show up for margaritas at your local spot.  Pull together a quick Australian Grilled Swordfish for friends while watching the baseball game.  There’s a little more planning and effort involved, I know… but if you want to break away in any small step from our go-go-go, now-now-now American cultural (non)sensibility, I honestly believe the first step will be with food.

I recently finished reading Molly Wizenberg’s (of Orangette fame) A Homemade Life.  Truly a wonderful book that incorporates Molly’s life stories with some of her favorite recipes.  I’ve scoured the pages several times over, dog-earring most every recipe and plugging it full of post-it notes with dinner ideas.  However, while I have yet to try her Apricot Pound Cake or Butternut Squash and Vanilla Bean Soup, there is one meal she mentions consistently throughout the book that I just simply can’t stop eating:

Crusty French bread with butter, slices of radishes and salt, served with a hunk of blue Castello cheese.

My mouth waters just looking at this.

Anywhosit, there is something so satisfying in crunch of radishes when combined with the slick softness of the butter and the flavor of salt.  Such a simple snack, yet entirely filling.  I prefer double-cream Castello cheese, which I picked up at my local Trader Joe’s.  It’s a Danish blue cheese with a wonderfully tangy taste– strong and pungent, yet deliciously creamy and decadent.  Is wonderful when paired with a crisp Sauvignon Blanc.

Only problem is, now I have far too many radishes for my own good.  This recipe for Cucumber and Radish Salad with Lime Yogurt looks promising, will update if I do decide to try it.  Until then, I’m content just slicing away.

Pour out the wine without restraint or stay,
Pour not by cups, but by the bellyful, 
Pour out to all that wull.

~Edmund Spencer

I’m not quite sure what’s influencing me this morning (besides the bottle of cabernet sauvingnon I polished off last night).  Perhaps it’s the anticipation of my company’s holiday lunch, taking place at Boston’s extremely fabulous, award-winning restaurant, L’Espalier.  Chef Frank McClelland is truly deserving of a standing ovation for his menu.  He is a master of French cuisine, and Erik Johnson, the resto’s wine director, always manages to suggest the most flawless wine pairings.  In fact, McClelland (along with writer Christie Matheson) recently published Wine Mondays (Harvard Common Press), a book named after the classic L’Espalier prix fixe that takes you on a tour through a variety of wines, paired deliciously with dishes from the L’Espalier test kitchen.  Definitely recommend this for anyone on your holiday gift-giving list.

Allow me to wipe the drool from my face.  The whole purpose of this post was that I wanted to share this article on the NYTimes wine-blog “The Pour.”   It talks about the representation of wine in modern culture, as well as gives several significant suggestion on what books to add to your wine-loving library.  Ok, so I’m not exactly talking food here, but in the spirit of the season– redden your cheeks with some pinot, and fill up your mind on wine-lit.

by Jenni Ferrari-Adler

I recently finished Jenni Ferrari-Adler’s collection of personal stories that all talk about the experience of eating alone.  Some are joyful, some more wistful.  Perhaps the most interesting part of the book, however, is how intimately familiar you become with the authors.  They confess their most bizarre solo-eating habits; things you normally only know about a significant other or best friend.  I found myself nodding in agreement with the stories; my own neuroses about dining solo reflected back at me from the page.  It made me contemplate: what does it mean to me to eat alone?