How Cooking Made Us Human

Some excerpts from the review of Richard Wrangham's new book, Catching Fire: How Cooking Made Us Human:

"Just over two and a half million years ago, our brains swelled. Less than a million years later, they swelled again, our posture and our gait changed, our jaws shrank, and we grew taller. These two evolutionary changes define our species, distinguishing us from our fellow primates. 1.8 million years ago, we learned to cook. Cooking... literally powered our evolution."

"Archeologists have found earth ovens more than 250,000 years old.... Cooking is the only possible explanation for the transformation that stood us on our feet, shrank our guts, gave us silly teeth and receding jawlines, and swelled our brains to their current, horrendously fuel-inefficient size."

"No one, ancient or modern, settled or nomadic, has ever survived for more than a couple of seasons on an exclusively raw diet."

Food Poem Fridays: John Engels' CRANBERRY-ORANGE RELISH

Cranberry-Orange Relish
by John Engels

A pound of ripe cranberries, for two days
macerate in a dark rum, then do not
treat them gently, but bruise,
mash, pulp, squash
with a wooden pestle
to an abundance of juices, in fact
until the juices seem on the verge

of overswelling the bowl, then drop in
two fistsful, maybe three, of fine-
chopped orange with rind, two golden
blobs of it, and crush
it in, and then add sugar, no thin
sprinkling, but a cupful dumped
and awakened with a wooden spoon

to a thick suffusion, drench of sourness, bite of color,
then for two days let conjoin
the lonely taste of cranberry,
the joyous orange, the rum, in some
warm corner of the kitchen, until
the bowl faintly becomes
audible, a scarce wash of sound, a tiny
bubbling, and then
in a glass bowl set it out
and let it be eaten last, to offset
gravied breast and thigh
of the heavy fowl, liverish
stuffing, the effete
potato, lethargy of pumpkins

gone leaden in their crusts, let it be eaten
so that our hearts may be together overrun
with comparable sweetnesses,
tart gratitudes, until finally,
dawdling and groaning, we bear them
to the various hungerings
of our beds, lightened
of their desolations.

________________________________

P.S. What do you think of poem-recipes?

Recipe by Miz SunDrop: Cornbread Dotted with Dried Cherries

We used Indian green chillies (just 2, finely sliced -- nowhere near the 1/2 cup the recipe calls for!) instead of the canned kind. Enjoy!

1 cup butter

3/4 cup sugar

4 eggs

1/2 cup diced canned green chillies (or 2 finely sliced fresh Indian or Thai green chillies)

1 1/2 cups "creamed" corn (canned)
1/2 cup shredded jack or cheddar
1 cup flour

1 cup yellow cornmeal

2 tbsp baking powder

1/2 cup dried cherries

Cream together butter, sugar and eggs. Add remaining ingredients, mix well. Spread into a greased 9"x9" pan (double recipe makes a 9"x13").

Bake at 325 degrees Fahrenheit for 45 minutes.

Yams with Mustard Greens

This dish has a great range of flavors - sweetness from the yams, kickiness from the mustard greens and red chilli powder, and an aromatic brightness from the ginger. It's also very good for you!

- 4 yams (sweet potatoes with golden flesh) (I used 8 long and skinny ones that I picked up from the Union Square Greenmarket) , peeled and cut into half-moons, 1/4" thick
- 2 small heads mustard greens, washed, dried, and sliced into 2" long ribbons (cut down the length of the rib and then slice into thin ribbons cross-wise)
- 1.5" ginger, peeled and thinly julienned
- 4 shallots (or 1/2 large red onion), finely chopped
- salt to taste (approx. 1 tsp)
- lal mirchi (red chilli powder) to taste (mine is very spicy, so I probably used no more than 1/4 tsp)
- about 2 tbsp olive oil

Heat olive oil in a large sauté pan or wok on medium high until hot. Add shallots and ginger and sauté until soft, or for about two minutes. Add yams, salt and red chilli powder, and sauté until the yams are half-cooked, or for about seven or eight minutes. Add mustard greens and continue sautéeing; the water that leaches out from the greens will help to partially steam-cook the yams. Turn off heat in about seven minutes, when the yams are cooked through but not mushy and the greens are completely wilted.

This can be served hot or eaten cold as leftovers, too.

I used purple mustard greens (like these) that I picked up at the Union Square Greenmarket.

Mulled Apple Cider Granita

yield: Makes about 1 1/4 quarts

6 cups unpasteurized apple cider
a 3-inch cinnamon stick and/or mulling spices
1/3 cup sugar
2 teaspoons strained fresh lemon juice

In a large saucepan combine the cider, the cinnamon stick (I used a mixture of cinnamon sticks, allspice, orange zest, and cloves), the sugar, and a pinch of salt and boil the mixture for 5 to 10 minutes, or until the liquid is reduced to about 4 cups. Stir in the lemon juice, strain the mixture through a fine sieve into a bowl, and chill it, covered, until it is cold. Freeze the mixture in an ice-cream freezer according to the manufacturer's instructions if you want to make sorbet, or freeze and scrape with a fork for granita.

Shaved Brussels Sprouts with Pecorino Romano

Makes 6 side-dish servings

1 1/2 lb Brussels sprouts (preferably on the stalk), any discolored leaves discarded and stems left intact -OR- finely chopped kale (I actually think this dish tastes better made with raw kale)

2 tablespoons finely grated Pecorino Romano, or to taste

1/4 cup olive oil

3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice (I probably ended up using double or almost triple that amount)

red pepper flakes to taste

Shred Brussels sprouts in a food processor and toss in a bowl with lemon juice to separate layers and prevent discoloration. Toss with Pecorino and red pepper flakes and olive oil just before serving.

Hazelnut, Sage, and Mushroom Stuffing

yield: Makes 8 servings

8 cups 1/2-inch cubes of firm bread such as a Pullman loaf (1 pound)
1 1/2 cups finely chopped shallots (about 8 medium; 10 ounces)
1 stick unsalted butter, divided
1 1/2 pounds mushrooms, sliced 1/4 inch thick
1 1/2 cups finely chopped celery (from 3 ribs)
2 teaspoons chopped thyme
2 teaspoons finely chopped sage
1/2 cup dry white wine
2 cups hazelnuts (1/2 pound), toasted , any loose skins rubbed off in a kitchen towel, and coarsely chopped
1/2 cup finely chopped flat-leaf parsley
2-4 cups stock
3 large eggs, lightly beaten

Preheat oven to 400°F with racks in upper and lower thirds. Generously butter baking dish. Arrange bread in 1 layer in 2 large shallow baking pans and toast, switching position of pans halfway through baking, until golden and dry, about 15 minutes. Transfer to a large bowl. (Leave oven on.) Bread cubes and hazelnuts can be toasted 2 days ahead and kept in sealed bags at room temperature.

Meanwhile, cook shallots in 1/2 stick butter in a 12-inch heavy skillet over medium heat, stirring occasionally, until softened and golden, about 6 minutes. Add mushrooms, celery, thyme, sage, and 1/2 teaspoon salt and cook, stirring occasionally, until liquid given off by mushrooms has evaporated and mushrooms are browned, 20 to 30 minutes. Add wine and deglaze skillet by boiling, stirring and scraping up any brown bits, until wine is reduced by about half, about 2 minutes. Transfer to bread in bowl.

Add hazelnuts and parsley and toss.

Whisk together stock, eggs, 1 teaspoon salt, and 1/2 teaspoon pepper, then stir into bread mixture. Transfer to baking dish and dot top of stuffing with remaining 1/2 stick butter.

Bake, loosely covered with foil, in lower third of oven 30 minutes, then remove foil and bake until top is browned, about 15 minutes more.

(Stuffing, without hazelnuts and stock-and-egg mixture, can be assembled (but not baked), 1 day ahead and chilled, covered. Stir in nuts and stock mixture, then proceed with recipe. Stuffing can be baked 6 hours ahead and chilled, uncovered, until cool, then loosely covered. Reheat, covered, in a 400°F oven until hot, about 30 minutes.)

Pomegranate, Beet, and Blood Orange Salad

yield: Makes 4 first-course servings

4 medium beets
3 tablespoons vegetable oil
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper
1/4 cup water
1/4 cup blood orange juice (from about 1 blood orange)
1 tablespoon pomegranate molasses (I used concentrated pomegranate juice)
1 tablespoon white wine vinegar (I used cider vinegar)
1 medium red onion, thinly sliced
3 blood oranges, peeled, cut into1/4-inch-thick slices
1 cup pomegranate seeds (from one 11-ounce pomegranate) (I used two)

Preheat oven to 400°F. Place beets in roasting pan and toss with 1 tablespoon oil, 1 teaspoon salt, and 1/2 teaspoon pepper. Add 1/4 cup water. Cover pan with foil; roast beets until knife easily pierces center, about 50 minutes. Cool. Peel beets and cut into 1/3-inch-thick wedges. Whisk orange juice, pomegranate molasses, vinegar, and remaining 2 tablespoons oil in large bowl to blend. Season vinaigrette with salt and pepper. Place onion in small bowl; cover with cold water. Soak onion 1 minute, drain, and squeeze dry in kitchen towel. Add beets, onion, orange slices, and pomegranate seeds to vinaigrette in bowl; toss. Season salad with salt and pepper.

Butternut Squash Panna Cotta

Vegetable oil for oiling ramekins
2 lbs. butternut squash
1 tbsp. agar-agar flakes or 2/3 tsp agar-agar powder
1¼ cups heavy cream
½ cup mascarpone
2 tsp. chopped fresh thyme
½ tsp. Aleppo pepper (or ⅛ tsp. cayenne)
1 tsp. sea salt, or to taste

Heat oven to 350°F. Lightly oil 4 small custard cups or ramekins. (I used 11 miniature ramekins.)

Halve and seed squash. Place cut-side down on baking sheet. Bake until soft, 45 minutes to an hour or more (cooking times vary widely with individual squash). Cool, then scrape out flesh and purée with immersion blender. Measure 1 cup into a medium mixing bowl; reserve the remainder for another use. (I probably used closer to 1 ½ cups.)

Combine the agar-agar and cream in a small saucepan and mix well. Let stand 30 minutes. Transfer to a burner and bring to a boil, stirring constantly. Reduce the heat and simmer 10 minutes. Strain through a fine sieve into the bowl with the squash.

Add mascarpone, thyme, Aleppo pepper (or cayenne) and salt to the bowl and mix with a wooden spoon or rubber spatula until smooth and well blended. Taste and adjust the seasoning. Divide the mixture among the prepared custard cups and let stand until set, about 1 hour.

Run a spatula around the rim of each panna cotta and carefully unmold onto small serving plates. (They can be reheated in a 350°F oven for 5 minutes, either in the ramekins or after unmolding them.) (We just served them in the miniature ramekins, with little spoons.)

Serves 4. (We served 11 as an amuse bouche.)

Urban Family Thanksgiving

My lovely guardian angel sister-friend Anne declared, "Let's have an urban family Thanksgiving dinner here!" And that is exactly what we did.

Here is what we served:

Lillet Blanc over fresh tangerine zest (on the rocks)

Assorted cheeses (an aged sheep's milk gouda, a garrotxa, a tangy blue, a creamy brie-like cow's milk cheese) with pumpkin butter, sunflower honey, fig-almond spread, sliced New York apples & crispbread

Butternut squash panna cotta

A red salad of pomegranate, beets, red onion & blood oranges

(A choice of Albariño or pinot noir with dinner)

Roast duck & cornbread dotted with dried cherries

Hazelnut, sage, & mushroom stuffing

Cranberry chutney

Shaved Brussels sprouts with pecorino romano

Gingered yams with mustard greens

Homemade pumpkin and cherry pies with mulled apple cider granita

Annie made pie crust from scratch!

Food Poem Fridays: Louise Glück's HARVEST

Harvest by Louise Glück

It's autumn in the market--
not wise anymore to buy tomatoes.
They're beautiful still on the outside,
some perfectly round and red, the rare varieties
misshapen, individual, like human brains covered in red oilcloth--

Inside, they're gone. Black, moldy--
you can't take a bite without anxiety.
Here and there, among the tainted ones, a fruit
still perfect, picked before decay set in.

Instead of tomatoes, crops nobody really wants.
Pumpkins, a lot of pumpkins.
Gourds, ropes of dried chilies, braids of garlic.
The artisans weave dead flowers into wreaths;
they tie bits of colored yarn around dried lavender.
And people go on for a while buying these things
as though they thought the farmers would see to it
that things went back to normal:
the vines would go back to bearing new peas;
the first small lettuces, so fragile, so delicate, would begin
to poke out of the dirt.

Instead, it gets dark early.
And the rains get heavier; they carry
the weight of dead leaves.

At dusk, now, an atmosphere of threat, of foreboding.
And people feel this themselves; they give a name to the season,
harvest, to put a better face on these things.

The gourds are rotting on the ground, the sweet blue grapes are finished.
A few roots, maybe, but the ground's so hard the farmers think
it isn't worth the effort to dig them out. For what?
To stand in the marketplace under a thin umbrella, in the rain, in the cold,
no customers anymore?

And then the frost comes; there's no more question of harvest.

The snow begins; the pretense of life ends.
The earth is white now; the fields shine when the moon rises.

I sit at the bedroom window, watching the snow fall.
The earth is like a mirror:
calm meeting calm, detachment meeting detachment.

What lives, lives underground.
What dies, dies without struggle.

Fish tikkis and imli chutney, dal with hot lime pickle, and salad

During the week, putting together motley things I had completely or half-prepared on a Sunday:
- a salad made with arugula, cucumbers, and bell peppers, with a cranberry vinaigrette I have in the fridge that I made when the cranberry preserves were almost over and it was easier to get the last bits by swirling them with vinegar and making a dressing;
- moong dal made chunky-style with mustard greens, topped with hot lime pickle; and
- fish tikkis topped with imli chutney.

Citrus-Fennel Salmon

I swear, this dish took all of 15 minutes to prepare. We coated the salmon with citrus-fennel salt and freshly ground black pepper, and seared it. I sliced a few endives and a bulb of fennel, reserving the fronds, and sauteed them in olive oil, citrus-fennel salt, and freshly ground black pepper. When the fennel softened, I turned off the heat and tossed in a bit of freshly squeezed lemon juice. We served the salmon over the sauteed vegetables and squeezed lemon juice over the whole dish, and topped it with the fennel fronds.

Watermelon-Tomato Salad

For this fresh summer salad, I cut large cubes of organic watermelon and yellow and green heirloom tomatoes and sprinkled fennel fronds and slices of red onion that had been marinated briefly in lemon juice. A scattering of pepper and a truly tiny drizzle of grapeseed oil finished it.

Quotables

Time bows at the altar of gastronomy in France. In the United States time is the altar.

- Roger Cohen

Food Poem Fridays: Barbara Crooker's VEGETABLE LOVE

Vegetable Love by Barbara Crooker

Feel a tomato, heft its weight in your palm,
think of buttocks, breasts, this plump pulp.
And carrots, mud clinging to the root,
gold mined from the earth's tight purse.
And asparagus, that push their heads up,
rise to meet the returning sun,
and zucchini, green torpedoes
lurking in the Sargasso depths
of their raspy stalks and scratchy leaves.
And peppers, thick walls of cool jade, a green hush.
Secret caves. Sanctuary.
And beets, the dark blood of the earth.
And all the lettuces: bibb, flame, oak leaf, butter-
crunch, black-seeded Simpson, chicory, cos.
Elizabethan ruffs, crisp verbiage.
And spinach, the dark green
of northern forests, savoyed, ruffled,
hidden folds and clefts.
And basil, sweet basil, nuzzled
by fumbling bees drunk on the sun.
And cucumbers, crisp, cool white ice
in the heart of August, month of fire.
And peas in their delicate slippers,
little green boats, a string of beads,
repeating, repeating.
And sunflowers, nodding at night,
then rising to shout hallelujah! at noon.

All over the garden, the whisper of leaves
passing secrets and gossip, making assignations.
All of the vegetables bask in the sun,
languorous as lizards.
Quick, before the frost puts out
its green light, praise these vegetables,
earth's voluptuaries,
praise what comes from the dirt.

Light Summer Meals: Salmon Niçoise and Black-Eyed Pea Salad with Chipotle-Honey Dressing

Ah, summer. You don't feel like spending a lot of time in a hot kitchen and you barely feel like eating anything remotely warm. The tomatoes are delicious and everything seems more colorful. So we have been having simple dinners, basically salads topped with fish or shrimp:


Salmon "Niçoise" - Salmon poached in a pandan-galangal-lemon broth, over Satur Farms mache and endive salad dressed in a blood orange-mustard vinaigrette, with a few russet potatoes, steamed baby asparagus (which we had saved frozen from spring), heirloom tomatoes from New Jersey, and crumbled hardboiled egg.



Black-Eyed Pea Salad with Chipotle-Honey Dressing (with grilled shrimp glazed with the same chipotle-honey dressing). The salad has diced radish, diced yellow and red bell peppers, diced red onion, diced fresh bicolor corn, and cilantro. I soaked the black-eyed peas in the morning so they would cook more quickly, and boiled them with salt, two bay leaves, and the two dried chipotle peppers that I then made a salad dressing/glaze with (chipotles, a whole head of fresh baby garlic cloves that I lightly roasted, honey, lime juice, salt, a little bit of olive oil and some brown rice vinegar, blended with a hand blender).

Beautiful Summer Bounty

These past two weekends, we have been just outside Geneva, Switzerland to meet a baby, and in the Berkshires to celebrate the wedding of a close friend, whose mother happens to run a small grass-based dairy in Williamstown. Needless to say, we have been sumptuously well-fed, and I had to share.

In Geneva, the most popular coffee drink is the café renversé (I think they have something similar in Israel called the cafe hafuch). It is basically a latte, except the espresso is put into the hot steamed milk instead of the other way around - hence, "reversed coffee," or, in the Hebrew, "upside down coffee". It is hard to be a big coffee drinker here in the U.S. where you don't find much good stuff, but I could have a café renversé every day if I lived in Geneva.

Just outside Geneva, where we were staying with our friends, we were picking fruit from the orchard...

...spreading homemade preserves on fresh French bread...

...and having tarte aux abricots speckled with lavender from the garden.

In Williamstown, the cheese made on the premises was the focal point during the cocktail hour after the wedding ceremony. Served alongside sun-warmed green figs, with a mildly acidic, palate-cleansing white wine, Maggie's Round (named after the family's dog, who's developed a taste for it) is the kind of cheese you can keep nibbling throughout a summer evening and never feel the need for anything else or a proper meal. It's an Italian farm-style raw milk cheese, aged 2-4 months, with a flavor similar to Italian Toma.

Michael Pollan on the Conspiracy to Keep Us Out of the Kitchen and On the Couch

Sigh. Another brilliant piece from Michael Pollan will come out just before the movie Julie & Julia opens. To quote, and sum, "Buying, not making, is what cooking shows are mostly now about." And what our food culture is mostly now about, to our detriment, physically, mentally, and culturally.

I almost don't know what to excerpt for your previewing pleasure -- the whole thing was so darn good. (And if you would like to read further about some of his arguments that, from an evolutionary biology perspective, cooking is an essential human activity, read The Hungry Soul by Leon Kass.)

Excerpts:

On Julia Child: "Julia’s voice was like nothing I ever heard before or would hear again until Monty Python came to America: vaguely European, breathy and singsongy, and weirdly suggestive of a man doing a falsetto impression of a woman. The BBC supposedly took 'The French Chef' off the air because viewers wrote in complaining that Julia Child seemed either drunk or demented."

On the Food Network's rise and home cooking's decline: "How is it that we are so eager to watch other people browning beef cubes on screen but so much less eager to brown them ourselves?"

On enjoying engaging your mind, senses, hands: "Cooking for [Julia Child] was so much more than a means to a meal. It was a gratifying, even ennobling sort of work, engaging both the mind and the muscles.... You did it to please yourself.... I suspect we’re drawn to the textures and rhythms of kitchen work, too, which seem so much more direct and satisfying than the more abstract and formless tasks most of us perform in our jobs nowadays." (This is one of the major reasons I love to cook. It makes me feel creative, sensually engaged, meditative when alone and fulfillingly social with other people.)

On competitive cooking television: "If you ask me, the key to victory on any of these shows comes down to one factor: bacon. Whichever contestant puts bacon in the dish invariably seems to win."

On why you might think we don't cook as much now: "For many years now, Americans have been putting in longer hours at work and enjoying less time at home. Since 1967, we’ve added 167 hours — the equivalent of a month’s full-time labor — to the total amount of time we spend at work each year, and in households where both parents work, the figure is more like 400 hours. Americans today spend more time working than people in any other industrialized nation — an extra two weeks or more a year."

On the real reason why we don't cook as much now: "[Americans] now allow corporations to cook for them when they can.... The shift toward industrial cookery began not in response to a demand from women entering the work force but as a supply-driven phenomenon.... It took years of clever, dedicated marketing to... persuade Americans that opening a can or cooking from a mix really was cooking."

On the state of the table now: "The corporate project of redefining what it means to cook and serve a meal has succeeded beyond the industry’s wildest expectations.... Today, 80 percent of the cost of food eaten in the home goes to someone other than a farmer, which is to say to industrial cooking and packaging and marketing."

On why cooking is fundamental to human culture: "Cooking made us who we are.... It was the discovery of cooking by our early ancestors... [that allowed] our brains to grow bigger.... Freed from the need to spend our days gathering large quantities of raw food and then chewing (and chewing) it, humans could now devote their time, and their metabolic resources, to other purposes, like creating a culture. Cooking gave us not just the meal but also the occasion: the practice of eating together at an appointed time and place. This was something new under the sun, for the forager of raw food would likely have fed himself on the go and alone, like the animals. (Or, come to think of it, like the industrial eaters we’ve become, grazing at gas stations and skipping meals.) But sitting down to common meals, making eye contact, sharing food, all served to civilize us.”

On how we're suffering from the decline of home cooking: "A 2003 study by a group of Harvard economists led by David Cutler found that the rise of food preparation outside the home could explain most of the increase in obesity in America.... As the 'time cost' of food preparation has fallen, calorie consumption has gone up.... As the amount of time Americans spend cooking has dropped by about half, the number of meals Americans eat in a day has climbed; since 1977, we’ve added approximately half a meal to our daily intake.... Obesity rates are inversely correlated with the amount of time spent on food preparation.... Cooking is [also] a better predictor of a healthful diet than social class: a 1992 study in The Journal of the American Dietetic Association found that poor women who routinely cooked were more likely to eat a more healthful diet than well-to-do women who did not."

Today's Food... Very Good

"Today's food... very good" was what we all said in unison before a meal at Gandhi Camp (where I was a camper and then a counselor for about five summers).  I think I officially stopped being a card-carrying Gandhian when I learned that at the Gandhi ashrams, they don't use onions, ginger, garlic, and green chilies (as another form of sacrifice devotion).

I digress.

Dinner tonight was light, summery, and kicky:

1. South Indian-style Brussels Sprouts (with mustard seeds, curry leaves, fresh roasted peanuts, ginger, lemon juice...)

2. Karela (bitter melon) with tomatoes, ginger, onions, and a touch of yogurt whey

3. Sprouted mung bean salad (with tamarind, lime, cilantro...)

4. Shrimp (glazed with tamarind soy sauce)

5. Lemongrass iced tea 

FOOD POEM FRIDAYS: Carolyn Miller's A WARM SUMMER IN SAN FRANCISCO

A Warm Summer in San Francisco by Carolyn Miller

Although I watched and waited for it every day,
somehow I missed it, the moment when everything reached
the peak of ripeness. It wasn't at the solstice; that was only
the time of the longest light. It was sometime after that, when
the plants had absorbed all that sun, had taken it into themselves
for food and swelled to the height of fullness. It was in July,
in a dizzy blaze of heat and fog, when on some nights
it was too hot to sleep, and the restaurants set half their tables
on the sidewalks; outside the city, down the coast,
the Milky Way floated overhead, and shooting stars
fell from the sky over the ocean. One day the garden
was almost overwhelmed with fruition:
My sweet peas struggled out of the raised bed onto the mulch
of laurel leaves and bark and pods, their brilliantly colored
sunbonnets of rose and stippled pink, magenta and deep purple
pouring out a perfume that was almost oriental. Black-eyed Susans
stared from the flower borders, the orange cherry tomatoes
were sweet as candy, the fruit fattened in its swaths of silk,
hummingbirds spiraled by in pairs, the bees gave up
and decided to live in the lavender. At the market,
surrounded by black plums and rosy plums and sugar prunes
and white-fleshed peaches and nectarines, perfumey melons
and mangos, purple figs in green plastic baskets,
clusters of tiny Champagne grapes and piles of red-black cherries
and apricots freckled and streaked with rose, I felt tears
come into my eyes, absurdly, because I knew
that summer had peaked and was already passing
away. I felt very close then to understanding
the mystery; it seemed to me that I almost knew
what it meant to be alive, as if my life had swelled
to some high moment of response, as if I could
reach out and touch the season, as if I were inside
its body, surrounded by sweet pulp and juice,
shimmering veins and ripened skin.

Vanilla Bean Yogurt

This week, I made half the batch of homemade yogurt with a couple of split vanilla beans and a touch of turbinado sugar.  It has been a lovely treat - this batch is not even a taste bud's worth tangy, so it feels like having panna cotta, but with the extra cooling power of yogurt.  The vanilla is from Indonesia and tastes dark, velvety, and tropical - nothing like the flavor vanilla extract imparts.

Looks like most of the vanilla seeds settled on the bottom!

Oils

I love getting requests for posts!  Most recently I was asked what the differences are between different types of oils and what is best for cooking. 

To begin, you want most of the fats in your diet to come from polyunsaturated and monounsaturated sources, such as vegetable oils, avocadoes, nuts, seeds, and cold water fish. 

Monounsaturated fats lower total cholesterol and low density lipoprotein (LDL) cholesterol (the bad cholesterol) and increase the high density lipoprotein (HDL) cholesterol (the good cholesterol). Polyunsaturated fats also lower total cholesterol and LDL cholesterol. 

(Omega-3 fatty acids, which are found in cold water fish, like salmon, as well as in flaxseed and walnuts, belong to this group. Omega-3s as well as unrefined olive oil are also anti-inflammatory and help to prevent chronic disease, such as diabetes and heart disease.)

Smoke point is the temperature to which an oil can be heated before it smokes and discolors, which are indications of decomposition. If you are using an oil with a low smoke point, you'll want to use it in cold preparations, like salads.

For salads, use cold-pressed, unrefined vegetable oils such as sesame, sunflower, safflower, flaxseed, almond, walnut, hazelnut, pumpkin seed, pistachio, avocado, grapeseed, cottonseed, and extra-virgin olive oil (unrefined olive oil has a smoke point of 320°F), among others.  Heat would destroy the delicate flavors of these oils.

Safflower oil also doesn't solidify when chilled, which can be useful if you'll be serving a chilled dressed dish.

For cooking, use extra-virgin olive oil, canola oil, peanut oil, refined sesame oil, and refined grapeseed oil, among others. Peanut oil is great for hot woks and Asian stir-fries. Sesame oil comes in a light variety (made from untoasted sesame seeds) and a dark variety (made from toasted sesame seeds). Light sesame oil has a nutty taste and is great for sauteeing or shallow frying in a pan. Dark sesame oil has a very strong flavor and should be used in small quantities for its flavoring.  

In Indian food we also sometimes use as a flavoring agent the oil from mustard seeds, which is sharp and a bit spicy.

For frying, corn oil, refined safflower and sunflower oils, and canola oil will do, as they have higher smoke points. (It is best not to fry with olive oil, as its smoke point is only about 190C/375F.)

Fats to avoid (for health reasons -- some of these are quite tasty):
vegetable shortening
margarine
butter
palm oil
palm kernel oil
coconut oil
bacon grease and animal lard

Final notes: 

Personally, I hate the smell of soybean oil, so I avoid it.

And the jury is out on coconut oil. Some believe that when consumed raw, coconut oil is beneficial.  Choose your own adventure.

For more information, check out the FAQ and the food fats and oils reference on the website of the Institute of Shortening and Edible Oils.

Recipes for your face!

A lot of the ingredients in skincare products come from foods. Right in your own kitchen, you probably have the makings of the freshest, most bioactive facial masks, eye treatments, and exfoliators.

Fruit acids are wonderful at gently removing dead skin and brightening skin. Oatmeal calms, yogurt tightens pores, and cucumbers soothe eyes.

Stick with organics to avoid pesticides, and peel fruits and vegetables anyway -- even organics are allowed to have natural waxes.

Some ideas:

- For oily skin, grated apple and honey, or a puree of cucumber and yogurt;

- For exfoliation, wheat germ and warm honey; sea salt and extra virgin olive oil; or a simple paste of oatmeal and water;

- Avocado, honey, and almond flour make a moisturizing mask;

- Mashed peach and extra virgin olive oil work for dry skin;

- Cool, wet tea bags or cucumber slices de-puff eyes;

- Seaweed detoxifies;

- For enzymatic exfoliation, mix strawberries, papaya, honey, and oatmeal.

Recipe: Quick Cinnamon-Chocolate Mousse (vegan!)

We had some friends over for watercress and radish salad (dressed with verjus and extra virgin olive oil and topped with sliced boiled egg), fish tacos, and Mexican corn.  I made this quick (and vegan!) cinnamon-chocolate mousse the day before so we'd have a little chocolatey bite for afterwards!

Quick Cinnamon-Chocolate Mousse for 4

1 ¼ cups chilled MimicCreme
1/8 teaspoon (generous) ground cinnamon
4 ounces bittersweet dark chocolate (at least 65% cocoa content), chopped

Combine ¼ cup MimicCreme and cinnamon in small saucepan; bring to boil. Remove from heat. Add chocolate and whisk until melted and smooth. Transfer chocolate mixture to large bowl and add remaining MimicCreme. Using electric mixer, beat until chocolate is completely incorporated. Divide mousse among 4 glasses / bowls / ramekins and cover with plastic wrap. Chill until set, about 4 hours. (Can be made 1 day ahead.)

No Comment

In Korean, noo roong ji is the toasted crust of rice that forms at the bottom of the traditional Korean stone rice pot (people in Seoul love the taste of toasted rice -- it's even an ice cream flavor there).

In Japan, where toasted rice is considered overcooked and undesirable, it's called okoge -- also slang for a single woman who spends a lot of time with gay men.

???

Quotable

"When poor Southern families created 'soul food,' all they had was produce from their humble backyard gardens. Soul food started as local, organic, and sustainable—terms we’re now more likely to associate with Trader Joe’s than Amy Ruth’s. Vegan food activist Bryant Terry wants to change those associations; to bring the growing movement of health and eco-conscious food back to its (low-income) roots."

- Heather McGhee

Recipe: Thai Red Curry Paste

This is just one recipe for Thai red curry paste. There are many
variations.

3 shallots, sliced
1 stalk lemongrass
1-3 bird's eye chillies
3 cloves garlic
1 3" piece galangal, peeled and sliced
1/4 tsp. white pepper
1 tsp. ground cumin
2 Tbsp. ground coriander seeds
3 Tbsp. nam pla
1 kaffir lime leaf
1 tsp. shrimp paste
1 tsp. palm sugar
1 1/2 Tbsp. red chilli powder

Process all ingredients in a food processor.

Red curry paste may be stored in an airtight container in the refrigerator
for about 2 weeks, or frozen for up to 3 months.

Recipe: Thai Green Curry Paste

This is just one recipe for Thai green curry paste. There are many
variations.

1 stalk lemongrass
1/2 Tbsp. ground coriander
1 Tbsp. cumin
1 tsp. shrimp paste
1 tsp. palm sugar
1-2 green chillies
3 cloves garlic
1 3" piece galangal (or ginger), peeled and sliced
3-4 kaffir lime leaves, stems removed
1 cup fresh cilantro (including leaves and stems)
1 tsp. nama shoyu
2 Tbsp. nam pla

Process all ingredients in a food processor.

Green curry paste may be stored in an airtight container in the refrigerator
for about 2 weeks, or frozen for up to 3 months.

Recipe: Mussels in a Lemongrass Bath

Last night, my cousin came over for dinner. It has recently been a somewhat difficult time on that side of the family, so I felt that we needed a sumptuously nourishing meal to linger over. I made mussels as a starter; then grilled shrimp over a julienned red cabbage-bell pepper-mango salad with a Thai-style dressing; and, finally, small servings of grilled salmon with a side of broccoli, drizzled with a thick Thai red curry coconut sauce, fresh cilantro, and black sesame seeds.

Mussels in a Lemongrass Bath for 3
2 lbs mussels, scrubbed and bearded, and rinsed thoroughly and drained
1/4 cup chopped spring green onion
1 bird's eye chilli, slit in half lengthwise
1 teaspoon green curry paste
2 stalks lemongrass, chopped
3 cups broth
2 teaspoons peanut oil

Heat a large pot over medium-high heat, and then heat peanut oil until medium hot. Add green onion and bird's eye chilli and saute until onion is beginning to get translucent. Pour in broth and add green curry paste and lemongrass. When it's beginning to boil but not quite, add the mussels, bring completely to boil, cover, lower heat to medium, and steam the mussels for about 3 minutes. Remove from heat. Remove the mussels that haven't opened, and serve the rest.

Recipe: Grilled Shrimp over Julienned Red Cabbage-Bell Pepper-Mango Salad

Grilled Shrimp over Julienned Red Cabbage-Bell Pepper-Mango Salad for 3

(This is a slight variation on a similar earlier post.)

Salad
1/3 of a whole red cabbage, julienned
1 red bell pepper, julienned
1 orange bell pepper, julienned
1 mango, julienned
1/4 cup fresh cilantro, finely chopped (can also add fresh chopped mint)
1 bunch scallions: chop 3 of them finely; chop the rest on the diagonal into 2-3" pieces

1 pound shrimp, cleaned, de-veined, tails left on; rinsed, patted dry, and marinated for 10 minutes in salt, pepper, a tablespoon of peanut oil, and the juice of 1 lime or 3 key limes

Dressing
1/4 cup lime juice
1/4 cup nam pla (fish sauce)
Splash peanut oil
1 tbsp palm sugar or brown sugar
1 bird's eye (or serrano) chilli, minced
1/2" piece ginger, julienned

In a measuring cup, mix dressing ingredients and set them aside for the flavors to marry. 

Heat grill on high heat and spray with grapeseed oil. When grill is hot, place shrimp and 2-3" long scallion pieces on grill in one layer. When the shrimp is pink, turn the heat off and flip each shrimp.

Toss the salad ingredients with the dressing, and divide the salad among three large bowls. Top each salad with a third of the grilled shrimp and scallions.

Literatarianism

As I mentioned, Geoff Nicholson's essay about books he's read with descriptions of disgusting meals sent me into a reverie about foods I've read about that left me salivating -- not in books that were otherwise about food necessarily (that's too easy) but in which the world created by the author is so richly imagined that you're given smells, tastes, even textures that draw you in, so deep.

The first book (or rather, series) that came to mind was Harry Potter, so remarkable because so much of the food, drink, and sweets are completely imaginary, and yet J.K. Rowling leaves you craving a warm, comforting mug of butterbeer or the adventure in every box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans (includes spinach, liverwurst, and ear wax, but also sweet flavors like "a nice toffee"). Let me say, this is moreover a feat because the "real" food mentioned in the books is of the heavy, bland, British variety, like Yorkshire pudding, steak and kidney pie, and treacle tart (except when the Beauxbatons students are in town, and the house elves make bouillabaisse and blancmange appear). And yet somehow cauldron cakes washed down with pumpkin juice sounds enticing; I would even sample gillywater or take a gulp of Ogden's Old Firewhisky. I'd probably skip Hagrid's cooking, though -- rock cakes don't tempt me.

The sweets! What variety: Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, chocolate frogs, pumpkin pasties, the aforementioned cakes and jelly beans, Licorice Wands, Pepper Imps, Sugar Quills, tooth flossing string mints, Fizzing Whizbees, peppermint toads, fudge flies, Acid Pops...

Finally, I love that so much of the food served at Hogwarts is made with the vegetables from the patches near the greenhouses and that Hagrid raises chickens. A school after Alice Waters' heart!

From my childhood (much of which was spent reading, and the rest of which was spent eating and cooking, I think), Anne of Green Gables's terrible mistakes in the kitchen got across how painfully eager she was to belong and shed her status as an uncivilized, not-to-be-trusted orphan. Two incidents stand out.

Anne accidentally gets her bosom friend Diana drunk by serving her currant wine, thinking it's raspberry cordial, at a time when there is a growing prohibition movement and Diana's mom Mrs. Barry anyway doesn't trust Anne. The understanding Marilla isn't too hard on Anne, and says, "I should think Mrs. Barry would better punish Diana for being so greedy as to drink three glassfuls of anything!"

Anne also lets a mouse get into the pudding sauce because she gets carried away imagining she's a nun ("of course") and forgets to cover it. "I'm a Protestant, but I imagined I was a Catholic taking the veil to bury a broken heart in cloistered seclusion, and I forgot all about covering the pudding sauce. I thought of it next morning and ran to the pantry. Diana, fancy if you can my extreme horror at finding a mouse drowned in that pudding sauce!" (Anne does, of course, voice the thought that drowning in pudding sauce is relatively a rather nice way for a mouse to die.)

Literatarian feasting is aplenty in Paris to the Moon by Adam Gopnik. Aside from all the mouth-watering, perfect food Gopnik and his family enjoy during their five years of cafe life in Paris, there is an adorable scene in which, just before returning to their home town of New York, their son has an interview with a New York kindergarten and, when asked what his favorite breakfast is, he answers (suitably for a child who has spent his first five years of life in Paris), "Croissant et confiture."

Growing up vegetarian, I could not help but being equally fascinated and repulsed while reading The Woman Warrior by Maxine Hong Kingston. Maxine's Chinese mother cooks 'coons, hawks, skunks, city pigeons, wild ducks, wild geese, black-skinned bantams, "turtles that crawled about the pantry floor and escaped under refrigerator and stove" and "catfish that swam in the bathtub." And she allows absolutely no waste, so use is also made of the strange innards of all of these unlikely creatures.

If you love this sort of thing, just read the chapter "The Literary Glutton" in Anne Fadiman's adorable book of essays about loving reading, Ex Libris. She writes, "In Anna Karenina, all the essential differences between Oblonsky and Levin are laid out in the Moscow restaurant scene during which the former orders three dozen oysters, vegetable soup, turbot with thick sauce, capon with tarragon, and fruit macedoine, while the latter longs for cabbage soup and porridge." Nothing more need be said, and we understand the Oblonskys and Levins of the world.