One of the most wonderful things ever invented is the fortune cookie. Ever. I mean, yeah, of course items like computers and cell phones and life-saving/life-improving medical devices and coffee makers and televisions and Zojirushi thermoses and Nutella are ahead of the fortune cookie. But the fortune cookie is definitely up there.
One finishes his or her meal and then is presented with a tiny package to open. And this package is given (basically) each time one orders from or goes to a Chinese restaurant! We should be going to Chinese restaurants ALL the time! And this package has two(!!) components to it - a sweet crispy cookie to end the meal on a sweet note. And literally a note, supposedly fated to end up in your very own hands! How is this not one of life's most exciting experiences?
These notes generally are of two types - the descriptive and the prescriptive/predictive. I take the "fortune" in "fortune cookies" quite literally and harbor extreme disdain for the descriptive kind. The kind that says "you are nice to everyone" or "you have made a decision." We, as recipients of the fortune cookie, already know ourselves and we don't need a cookie to tell us what we already know. We want the cookie to tell us something that we DON'T know! The most apt description presented in a cookie will always be quite inferior to a prescriptive/predictive kind.
The prescriptive/predictive kind uses phrases like "you should" or "you will." Even when an alarming sort of fortune is predicted, these are still vastly superior to the descriptive kind. For example, my most recent cookie said that I will be going to many parties. Most people would probably not mind this fortune. However, I, as an introvert, found this to be an ominous, anxiety-inducing nightmare situation to think about - I truly hope that my future does NOT involve me needing to go to parties! I think those parties would be much, much better off without my awkward weirdness, out-of-date cultural references, and misanthropic tendencies mucking up the atmosphere. And yet, receiving this was more preferable than a description! Because at least it was an actual fortune.
I submit to you two propositions - 1) all the notes in fortune cookies should be actual fortunes. This is the harder of the two propositions because it is the part we don't control. and 2) lets all eat more often from places that give us fortune cookies. This is much more doable. Life should have ever-more fortune cookies involved.
Hopefully we do not get the worst of all the fortune cookies - the ones that come with no fortune at all.
Showing posts with label i love food. Show all posts
Showing posts with label i love food. Show all posts
Monday, January 25, 2016
Tuesday, January 12, 2016
On clementines
It has been said that beer is proof that god loves us and wants us to be happy. Perhaps so - as an agnostic, I suppose I could find the reasoning compelling! But if it is indeed true that there is a god, then I submit the existence of clementines as proof that said higher power has a profound appreciation for beauty.
The clementine possesses an exquisite beauty - so wonderfully deep and orange and vibrant (especially when one finds them with the leaves still attached), standing as a contrast to the season's quiet darkness. Amidst the fog and the mist and the snow and the darkness, these small orbs of joy remind us that color and sun will be returned to us. It is this contrast of life and stillness, color and lack thereof, joy and sedation that makes one convinced that it had to be planned.
Clementines not only possess beauty, but taste and ease and portability. Only a perfectly ripe clementine can give one that delicious rush of sweet and sour juice, a most energizing and invigorating force. And it arrives in its very own packaging, it is so easy to peel and take anywhere without worrying about it becoming mush at the bottom of your purse - this is, without a doubt, a most special kind of fruit.
A world without clementines would be a bit dimmer, a bit less vibrant, a bit less delicious, a bit less marvelous. At the end of the day, I can't actually know that a higher power exists just based on the presence of clementines in our world. But I like the idea.
The clementine possesses an exquisite beauty - so wonderfully deep and orange and vibrant (especially when one finds them with the leaves still attached), standing as a contrast to the season's quiet darkness. Amidst the fog and the mist and the snow and the darkness, these small orbs of joy remind us that color and sun will be returned to us. It is this contrast of life and stillness, color and lack thereof, joy and sedation that makes one convinced that it had to be planned.
Clementines not only possess beauty, but taste and ease and portability. Only a perfectly ripe clementine can give one that delicious rush of sweet and sour juice, a most energizing and invigorating force. And it arrives in its very own packaging, it is so easy to peel and take anywhere without worrying about it becoming mush at the bottom of your purse - this is, without a doubt, a most special kind of fruit.
A world without clementines would be a bit dimmer, a bit less vibrant, a bit less delicious, a bit less marvelous. At the end of the day, I can't actually know that a higher power exists just based on the presence of clementines in our world. But I like the idea.
Thursday, January 7, 2016
On walnuts
Most food is background noise to us. We have our favorites - the foods that get us excited, that remind us of previous moments, that make our bellies full and happy (oh hello there pan-fried dumplings!). Then there are the foods that we hate - that we have become trained to avoid for whatever reason - distaste, disgust, allergies, sensitivities, etc (I am, unfortunately, looking at you olives, garlic, and onions!). We tend to focus on our friends and enemies of the food world, while our acquaintances fade away, garnering little attention from us.
Every now and then, however, an acquaintance moves up to a full-fledged friend. We spend a little more time together, discover previously unknown qualities about them, and then suddenly the kitchen needs to make room to store more of this new friend.
I have recently gone through this leveling up of friendship with walnuts. I hadn't been anti-walnut, previously. Just a bit meh about them - only using them when it seemed necessary. Now I am bringing home bags chock full of them and dumping them into the large bowl that has now been converted to full-time nut holding and taking up valuable kitchen space. I can't get enough of their sweetly bitter, fatty taste. I love that satisfying feeling of successfully cracking open that hard shell. I love the sound of the shell breaking. And I especially love excavating that craggy, brain-like nut meat. I love it all. I'm sad that I missed out on valuable walnut time for so long, but I have been busily making up for all that lost time together. I do believe that my new-found friendship with walnuts will be a long, fruitful one.
Monday, January 4, 2016
On the best thing I ate in 2015
Recently, Seth and I were discussing this topic - the best thing we had eaten in 2015. It seems fairly straightforward - what was the tastiest thing we had consumed?
But appearances can be deceiving. Unlike Seth, I couldn't separate a food/meal from its context. Was the best thing I ate..
1) The first cake I had baked here in our new home? It was absolutely not a fancy cake. It was a simple one - a chocolate chip one perfect for snacking - no icings, no fillings, no decorations. This cake, however, was the first thing I had baked in approximately 4 months. Between Molly's birth in November, the international move, and living in temporary housing for 2 months, baking had become almost impossible. But finally, a few days after moving into our new home, everything came together and I finally had the material and the time to bake a simple cake. And it was grand.
2) Or was it the first doener kebab I had here in Hamburg. This - this is the food I had fallen in love with during my study abroad in Berlin. And had never been able to find in the United States. In fact, Seth used a photo of doener to help me concentrate in getting through contractions during my unmedicated birth of Molly. And now, here it was back in my arms, after being away from me for almost decade. That wonderfully seasoned meat, the salad and sauce, the bread - it was everything i had hoped it would be. While I loved every bite of it, I am sure that objectively, someone would find it uninspired and not the best version in the city. But I don't care.
3) Or was it the multi-course dinner served in Hotel Schoenburg during our trip to the Rhein River Valley? It had been a warm summer day, and we had been out exploring. I should note that "out exploring" means that I trek around while wearing Molly in a baby carrier and lug a giant purse/diaper bag. Seth got it into his head that we should see the town of Oberwesesel and its old Roman wall. And that we should walk all away around it so that we can see as much as possible. This idea - pleasant at first - became absurd, as it became clear that we were unable to easily find an opening through this wall to get back into town and into the car and to rest and to food and to water. But finally, finally we were able to hike to just the right place to get around that wall and back into town and then to the hotel where a civilized, delicious dinner was available. How that food refreshed my body and soul! And oh that glass of beer - I'm not sure any will ever taste as delicious as that did! The food and service for dinner at the hotel can border on stuffy, and quite frankly, ridiculous, with its pomp and circumstance. But all was cherished that night. The truffle cream pasta, the veal medallions in mushroom sauce, the mashed potatoes...on its own, each was good, but not outstanding - but that night, together, they were everything.
Of course, I have no idea which of these is the "best." And there have been many other delicious things I've eaten this year - including so many new ones! But time and memory seem to have carried them away. So I suppose, at least for me, it truly is the context - the emotions, the circumstances - around food that turns them into precious memories.
But appearances can be deceiving. Unlike Seth, I couldn't separate a food/meal from its context. Was the best thing I ate..
1) The first cake I had baked here in our new home? It was absolutely not a fancy cake. It was a simple one - a chocolate chip one perfect for snacking - no icings, no fillings, no decorations. This cake, however, was the first thing I had baked in approximately 4 months. Between Molly's birth in November, the international move, and living in temporary housing for 2 months, baking had become almost impossible. But finally, a few days after moving into our new home, everything came together and I finally had the material and the time to bake a simple cake. And it was grand.
2) Or was it the first doener kebab I had here in Hamburg. This - this is the food I had fallen in love with during my study abroad in Berlin. And had never been able to find in the United States. In fact, Seth used a photo of doener to help me concentrate in getting through contractions during my unmedicated birth of Molly. And now, here it was back in my arms, after being away from me for almost decade. That wonderfully seasoned meat, the salad and sauce, the bread - it was everything i had hoped it would be. While I loved every bite of it, I am sure that objectively, someone would find it uninspired and not the best version in the city. But I don't care.
3) Or was it the multi-course dinner served in Hotel Schoenburg during our trip to the Rhein River Valley? It had been a warm summer day, and we had been out exploring. I should note that "out exploring" means that I trek around while wearing Molly in a baby carrier and lug a giant purse/diaper bag. Seth got it into his head that we should see the town of Oberwesesel and its old Roman wall. And that we should walk all away around it so that we can see as much as possible. This idea - pleasant at first - became absurd, as it became clear that we were unable to easily find an opening through this wall to get back into town and into the car and to rest and to food and to water. But finally, finally we were able to hike to just the right place to get around that wall and back into town and then to the hotel where a civilized, delicious dinner was available. How that food refreshed my body and soul! And oh that glass of beer - I'm not sure any will ever taste as delicious as that did! The food and service for dinner at the hotel can border on stuffy, and quite frankly, ridiculous, with its pomp and circumstance. But all was cherished that night. The truffle cream pasta, the veal medallions in mushroom sauce, the mashed potatoes...on its own, each was good, but not outstanding - but that night, together, they were everything.
Of course, I have no idea which of these is the "best." And there have been many other delicious things I've eaten this year - including so many new ones! But time and memory seem to have carried them away. So I suppose, at least for me, it truly is the context - the emotions, the circumstances - around food that turns them into precious memories.
Friday, December 11, 2015
On marshmallows
I can't help but roll my eyes when I read an article or blog post about making marshmallows and the author acts like store-bought, mass-produced marshmallows are the food of the devil or even the devil himself (or herself as the case may be), while home-made ones are the one true light - your express elevator to all things that are good and pure and morally right.
This misunderstands the two kinds of marshmallows. Store-bought ones are not some sad-sack, evil-imbued version of homemade ones. Homemade marshmallows are completely different from store-bought, and I think it would do us good to appreciate both. The former is better in flavor, and gives you the control in making them like whatever catches your fancy at the moment. These are confections to be enjoyed on their own. The latter is better in texture! It is perfect for baking and melting. I've never had luck in using those small batch homemade marshmallows in goodies like crispy rice treats or smores. And when one wants a small hit of deliciousness in candy form, a store-bought marshmallow generally isn't the way to go.
Unless you are my son.
Each year, I try to make a holiday batch of homemade marshmallows. But that doesn't seem likely this year - I'm just not ready to tackle the fussiness of it all. So I decided to kick of this year's holiday goodie season with marshmallow pops using the store-bought kind - stick one on a stick, coat in chocolate, then roll in nuts, sprinkles or coconut for a hit of flavor.
When Max was informed of our afternoon plans of marshmallow pop assembling, Max was joyous. He was so happy that marshmallows were involved!
But then he seemed a bit confused. And intrigued. What did it mean that we were doing something to the marshmallows? Then I realized - to him, these puffy treats were actually perfect on their own. While turning them into dressed-up pops made for a nice afternoon, he could have done without it. Apparently, he likes them for all the wrong reasons.
This misunderstands the two kinds of marshmallows. Store-bought ones are not some sad-sack, evil-imbued version of homemade ones. Homemade marshmallows are completely different from store-bought, and I think it would do us good to appreciate both. The former is better in flavor, and gives you the control in making them like whatever catches your fancy at the moment. These are confections to be enjoyed on their own. The latter is better in texture! It is perfect for baking and melting. I've never had luck in using those small batch homemade marshmallows in goodies like crispy rice treats or smores. And when one wants a small hit of deliciousness in candy form, a store-bought marshmallow generally isn't the way to go.
Unless you are my son.
Each year, I try to make a holiday batch of homemade marshmallows. But that doesn't seem likely this year - I'm just not ready to tackle the fussiness of it all. So I decided to kick of this year's holiday goodie season with marshmallow pops using the store-bought kind - stick one on a stick, coat in chocolate, then roll in nuts, sprinkles or coconut for a hit of flavor.
When Max was informed of our afternoon plans of marshmallow pop assembling, Max was joyous. He was so happy that marshmallows were involved!
But then he seemed a bit confused. And intrigued. What did it mean that we were doing something to the marshmallows? Then I realized - to him, these puffy treats were actually perfect on their own. While turning them into dressed-up pops made for a nice afternoon, he could have done without it. Apparently, he likes them for all the wrong reasons.
Tuesday, December 8, 2015
On icebox cakes
The allure of the ice box cake lies in its assembly. It is more than the some of its parts.
It isn’t necessarily quick
to put together. And it sits overnight
in the fridge to soften, so it isn’t something that can satisfy a sweet tooth
instantly.
But once one gets into a rhythm - layering the cookies or crackers,
spreading the cream, arranging the fruit, an inelegant flick of the wrist to
drizzle on the chocolate, and then starting the whole thing again - the time can pass rather quickly (admonishments to Max to stop eating all the ingredients, not withstanding). The
cookies. The cream. The fruit.
The chocolate.
And all that repetition lets your mind wander. Back to those days when an icebox cake would
sit in my mom’s fridge.
It was the kind of cake that necessitates
sticking a fork right into the pan and taking a bite. Just one.
And then enjoying that bite so very very much that you need another
one. And another. Until you realize that you should have just
cut a piece of it out, but really, this way feels so much naughtier. Those surreptitious bites taken when no one was
looking brought such joy.
And eventually my reveries and my assembling come to an end. Then the whole thing sits in the fridge and
melds together into cake, it becomes so much more than the cookies, the cream,
the fruit, and chocolate. Try the
ingredients on their own, and you may find the cookies to be not super
flavorful, the cream perhaps too flavorful, and the fruit – well, you know
fruit. But together, they sing.
27 chocolate wafer cookies ( I made my own, but feel free to use
store bought)
6 ounces blueberries
16 ounces strawberries
1 teaspoon lemon zest
1 teaspoon lemon juice
1 cup whipping cream
1 tablespoon dried lavender buds
1 cup whipping cream
2 tablespoons sugar
1/4 teaspoon vanilla
1/4 cup dark chocolate chips
1 tablespoon heavy cream
8x8 pan
In a bowl, gently mix together the berries and lemon juice/zest. Over gently heat, warm the 1 cup of cream with the lavender buds. Once warm, take off heat and then refrigerate. Once that cream is nice and cold, whip that lavender cream with the remaining cup of cream, sugar, and vanilla until it holds together and is wonderfully fluffy. With either a double boiler or carefully in a microwave, melt the chocolate with the 1 tablespoon of cream.
Cover the bottom of the pan with cookies ( I got about 9 on each layer). Then assemble - a layer of cream, then a generous sprinkle of berries, then a drizzling of chocolate. Repeat until the pan can't hold anymore layers.
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