This morning an article on the 20th anniversary of Nirvana's album "Nevermind" caught my eye and I read it with great interest, since that pivotal album came out exactly at a time that was, in some way, pivotal in my own life. I can clearly recall minutia from episodes in 1991 when I hear that album...the music conjures up the clearest images for me.
And the lyrics have moments of poetic poignancy, too...words that stick with me over the years.
It was a fine Saturday for a walk, so I took one. While standing on the bridge at the end of the lower lake in the Shaker Lakes park, I stopped, leaning over the railing, to watch the school of giant carp moving through the water. The school of giant carp stopped, brought their whiskered faces to the surface, and watched me hovering above them.
They were looking for food. And I thought, that if I were a hungry fisherman who liked carp, they would look like a pretty good smorgasbord to me.
With that in mind, as well as the Nirvana article fresh in my memory, I thought of the lyrics to the song "Something in the Way" in which singer Kurt Cobain lazily croons the secret mantra of guilt-ridden semi-vegetarians everywhere, "it's okay to eat fish 'cause they don't have any feelings."
As they inquisitively looked up at me above them on that bridge, I thought that these fish probably did have feelings: hunger, curiosity, territoriality, maybe even boredom.
I won't start a philosophical blow-out on the morality of being an omnivore. And I'm pretty certain that Cobain's lyric was loaded with his trademark sardonic wit.
I liked those fish, in an I-appreciate-the-animal-world-and-the-cycle-of-life kind of way. And I liked the Double Crested Cormorant who was probably eating those fishes' cousins 20 feet away. And I've liked a fish dinner here and there in my time. Yes, I like it all, but I don't like that I can't make peace with the cruelty of the food chain, but I'm somehow no longer a vegetarian.
I don't remember if the members of Nirvana actually ate fish or if they were vegetarians. But I'm sure they were not vegans...I remember butter was part of their food vernacular. I was hired as local day-labor in 1993 to assist the band's traveling caterer when they passed through NE Ohio and one of my duties was to bake the boys an apple pie. I distinctly remember cutting butter into the dough for the crust. Of course a butter crust usually makes a darn good (albeit non-vegan) pie.
And it was a darn good pie. The manager came up to the room we were using as a makeshift kitchen because Cobain wanted the kitchen labor to know how much he had enjoyed the apple pie. I still get a nice feeling from that compliment.
Cobain may or may not have believed that fish have feelings, but he knew that flunkies did, no matter where we were on the food chain of the entertainment business.
Saturday, September 24, 2011
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
The Linen Dish Towel
I have dozens of dish towels. In a single morning, I use more dish towels than most people use all week. This means that during the course of a week, I have to launder more dish towels than most people wash all week.
I have favorite dish towels. Some of them make great pot holders. Some of them dry the most delicate glasses with nary a streak. Some of them hang nicely from my apron ties, not too cumbersome or bulky. And when I am caught in the tedious chore of folding them after a tumble in the dryer, I put them in an order that suits me, as I know how I will later be grabbing them from the stack while I am working.
While folding dish towels this evening. I stopped to consider the best one of all. It has had quite a journey. You see, my most favorite dish towel was never meant to be a dish towel. It really is too noble of birth to be wiping down damp pots and pans, but it does the job so beautifully that I just can't let it go. This favorite dish towel started life as a interior decorator's flat-fold sample. A flat-fold, as an FYI, is a really large piece of fabric that a decorator can use to swath the back of Mrs. So-and-So's ho-hum sofa and exclaim, "See?!! Won't this be fabulous with the Cowtan and Tout wallpaper ?!" Mrs. So-and-So then can see how the interior is going to be stunningly transformed. Hopefully so much so that Mr. So-and-So won't grumble too much when the decorator's bill arrives.
If that sounds like a rarefied ritual, it probably is. It is certainly rarefied enough that not every flat-fold sample earns its keep. Many of them have to be retired with wasteful regularity.
This poor dish towel that I love so much never made it to the upholsterer's workbench to make over a sofa. Nor did it provide inspiration for a dramatic set of draperies. And it's a little sad, really, because it really is a glorious piece of fabric.
It is a wonderful linen. It wrinkles enough to let you know it's linen, but not so much as to look disheveled. It is woven, not just printed, with the most cheerful subject matter: a gaggle of tropical birds (cockatiels to myna-birds) gaze happily upon the lush fruits of the branches in which they are perched (papayas to pomegranates). Lest this sound like a blindingly tacky explosion of color, let me inform you that the whole thing is on the most understated warm brown background. If some great lady were to decorate her husband's study in their Florida home, where she wanted a whimsical celebration of Floridian motifs and he just wanted a masculine room where he could read the Journal in peace, thank you very much, then this is the fabric they would absolutely have to have.
But the Floridian couple never called, and the study never got made over.
And so the beautiful flat-fold sample became a dish-towel. (All of us, even flat-folds, have to do something for a living.) When I lay the dish towel out on a counter, to catch stray splashes from the sink, its bold pattern pleases my eye. I am grateful that it takes the abuse of being wadded-up, to buff the inside of a stock pot. I can hardly believe that despite being washed a couple of times a week for the last three years, the only real wear I see is a frayed edge, from where I had to tear off the fabric manufacturer's label when I gave the old flat-fold a new lease on life as a dish towel.
I don't really know if I am weaving (ouch...I know, but an unavoidable pun!) a sad tale or a happy one, but the jist of it is that this genteel decorator fabric has become a common kitchen rag. Riches to rags, quite literally. But how I love that flat-fold sample as a kitchen rag. And there have been folks with an eye for detail who have seen it laying on a counter and have complimented it...so obviously superior in both beauty and function it is.
How lucky am I to have this lovely linen dish towel?
I have favorite dish towels. Some of them make great pot holders. Some of them dry the most delicate glasses with nary a streak. Some of them hang nicely from my apron ties, not too cumbersome or bulky. And when I am caught in the tedious chore of folding them after a tumble in the dryer, I put them in an order that suits me, as I know how I will later be grabbing them from the stack while I am working.
While folding dish towels this evening. I stopped to consider the best one of all. It has had quite a journey. You see, my most favorite dish towel was never meant to be a dish towel. It really is too noble of birth to be wiping down damp pots and pans, but it does the job so beautifully that I just can't let it go. This favorite dish towel started life as a interior decorator's flat-fold sample. A flat-fold, as an FYI, is a really large piece of fabric that a decorator can use to swath the back of Mrs. So-and-So's ho-hum sofa and exclaim, "See?!! Won't this be fabulous with the Cowtan and Tout wallpaper ?!" Mrs. So-and-So then can see how the interior is going to be stunningly transformed. Hopefully so much so that Mr. So-and-So won't grumble too much when the decorator's bill arrives.
If that sounds like a rarefied ritual, it probably is. It is certainly rarefied enough that not every flat-fold sample earns its keep. Many of them have to be retired with wasteful regularity.
This poor dish towel that I love so much never made it to the upholsterer's workbench to make over a sofa. Nor did it provide inspiration for a dramatic set of draperies. And it's a little sad, really, because it really is a glorious piece of fabric.
It is a wonderful linen. It wrinkles enough to let you know it's linen, but not so much as to look disheveled. It is woven, not just printed, with the most cheerful subject matter: a gaggle of tropical birds (cockatiels to myna-birds) gaze happily upon the lush fruits of the branches in which they are perched (papayas to pomegranates). Lest this sound like a blindingly tacky explosion of color, let me inform you that the whole thing is on the most understated warm brown background. If some great lady were to decorate her husband's study in their Florida home, where she wanted a whimsical celebration of Floridian motifs and he just wanted a masculine room where he could read the Journal in peace, thank you very much, then this is the fabric they would absolutely have to have.
But the Floridian couple never called, and the study never got made over.
And so the beautiful flat-fold sample became a dish-towel. (All of us, even flat-folds, have to do something for a living.) When I lay the dish towel out on a counter, to catch stray splashes from the sink, its bold pattern pleases my eye. I am grateful that it takes the abuse of being wadded-up, to buff the inside of a stock pot. I can hardly believe that despite being washed a couple of times a week for the last three years, the only real wear I see is a frayed edge, from where I had to tear off the fabric manufacturer's label when I gave the old flat-fold a new lease on life as a dish towel.
I don't really know if I am weaving (ouch...I know, but an unavoidable pun!) a sad tale or a happy one, but the jist of it is that this genteel decorator fabric has become a common kitchen rag. Riches to rags, quite literally. But how I love that flat-fold sample as a kitchen rag. And there have been folks with an eye for detail who have seen it laying on a counter and have complimented it...so obviously superior in both beauty and function it is.
How lucky am I to have this lovely linen dish towel?
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Southern Comfort: Shrimp and Grits
My sister, who lives in the South, once asked me how I got so interested in Southern cooking. Until her query, I never knew I was interested in Southern cooking. I also don't think I've had (for a typical Northerner) an above-average exposure to it. But somewhere along the line, I managed to taste pulled pork, okra and oysters, tangy green tomatoes, catfish and coleslaw, greens and hot sauce, and things of that ilk, and I find all of the above to be deeply delicious culinary treats that I get genuinely excited about.
Now, while I do admit that I make greens at home on a not-infrequent basis, I cannot, for a second, say I am devoted to Southern cuisine exclusively. I'm too curious about (and hungry for!) what the other bajillion regions of the world have to offer from their kitchens.
After a really great day outdoors today, I felt like cozy-ing up for an evening at home with some home cooking. But I didn't feel like an outing to the grocery store, so, it was a use-whatever-happens-to-be-on-hand kind of night. (I call this a "pantry dump") That which happened to be on hand in the pantry really wasn't much. There was half a bag of frozen shrimp in the back of the freezer, some almost-sad-looking veggies and garlic that needed to be used SOON, and not much in the way of a starch. Wait. Don't I have some cornmeal...or...wait...grits up in the cupboard somewhere???
That's Shrimp and Grits, people! That is Southern food at its best!
Sloppy, gloppy, rich, decadent Shrimp and Grits! A meal of Shrimp and Grits is a Southern classic if there ever was one. Many Northern types have never tried it, or worse, think it sounds weirdly wrong. Oh, my Yankee brethren, I am here to tell you that Shrimp and Grits is weirdly right.
You take the creamiest version of grits that you can make, fortify them with cheese and the rounded depth of some vegetables, and then complement all of that richness with the sweet flavor (and the firm yet yielding texture) of perfectly-cooked shrimp. Personally, I also then like to gild the lily with some zesty hot sauce and/or freshly-squeezed lemon.
I would normally be glad to supply my personal recipe du jour, but, as I mentioned, this was a "pantry dump" meal, so I simply shot from the hip with some things I had on hand. I am quite certain, however, that if you were to Google "shrimp and grits" you would glean an encyclopedic number of not-too-shabby recipes. I know I used a cup of grits, about 4oz of cheese, 1/2 stick of butter, about 1/2 pound of shrimp, a healthy tablespoon of minced garlic, some asparagus tips, a little dry sherry, and I was more than happy with my off-the-cuff creation.
As the summer fades to fall and everyone is talking about the herculean effort that is a clambake, I think I'd be just as happy with a slapdash bowl of pure Southern comfort...Shrimp and Grits...ahhhhhhh!!!!
Now, while I do admit that I make greens at home on a not-infrequent basis, I cannot, for a second, say I am devoted to Southern cuisine exclusively. I'm too curious about (and hungry for!) what the other bajillion regions of the world have to offer from their kitchens.
After a really great day outdoors today, I felt like cozy-ing up for an evening at home with some home cooking. But I didn't feel like an outing to the grocery store, so, it was a use-whatever-happens-to-be-on-hand kind of night. (I call this a "pantry dump") That which happened to be on hand in the pantry really wasn't much. There was half a bag of frozen shrimp in the back of the freezer, some almost-sad-looking veggies and garlic that needed to be used SOON, and not much in the way of a starch. Wait. Don't I have some cornmeal...or...wait...grits up in the cupboard somewhere???
That's Shrimp and Grits, people! That is Southern food at its best!
Sloppy, gloppy, rich, decadent Shrimp and Grits! A meal of Shrimp and Grits is a Southern classic if there ever was one. Many Northern types have never tried it, or worse, think it sounds weirdly wrong. Oh, my Yankee brethren, I am here to tell you that Shrimp and Grits is weirdly right.
You take the creamiest version of grits that you can make, fortify them with cheese and the rounded depth of some vegetables, and then complement all of that richness with the sweet flavor (and the firm yet yielding texture) of perfectly-cooked shrimp. Personally, I also then like to gild the lily with some zesty hot sauce and/or freshly-squeezed lemon.
I would normally be glad to supply my personal recipe du jour, but, as I mentioned, this was a "pantry dump" meal, so I simply shot from the hip with some things I had on hand. I am quite certain, however, that if you were to Google "shrimp and grits" you would glean an encyclopedic number of not-too-shabby recipes. I know I used a cup of grits, about 4oz of cheese, 1/2 stick of butter, about 1/2 pound of shrimp, a healthy tablespoon of minced garlic, some asparagus tips, a little dry sherry, and I was more than happy with my off-the-cuff creation.
As the summer fades to fall and everyone is talking about the herculean effort that is a clambake, I think I'd be just as happy with a slapdash bowl of pure Southern comfort...Shrimp and Grits...ahhhhhhh!!!!
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Life Beyond the Table: Railing Against the Foodies
I really appreciate good food. And I generally enjoy making it. And that's about it.
WHAT?!!! Is food not your passion?? Don't you define yourself as a foodie?! Don't you harvest your own fresh eggs from the urban chicken coop you keep behind your garage? Doesn't everyone at the farmers market/Williams-Sonoma/specialty butcher shop/etc. etc. know you by name? Don't you buy your ducks still un-plucked from back alley place because they are so much better that way?
Not exactly. You see, I just really appreciate good food. And I generally enjoy making it. And that's about it. Isn't that enough?
I watched what turned out to be a real "yawner" of a Julia Roberts movie last night: Eat, Pray, Love. The first part of the movie really focused on Roberts' character enjoying the culinary delicacies of Italy...ad nauseum. This food focus just felt gratuitous ("oh, you simply MUST celebrate the culinary heritage of Italians whenever you talk about Italy")and kind of pornographic, in the worst way. As I mentioned earlier, I really appreciate good food, but I do not need to have the camera pan in on Julia Roberts' mouth while she slurps in a too-big-mouthful of spaghetti pasta. I don't need to watch her tilt her head sensuously while she wraps her lips around a piece of soggy pizza. It's kind of gluttonous and gross.
Obviously, the director was trying to illustrate the primal enjoyment we get out of good food, but he absolutely just beat the viewer over the head with it. And the pleasures of the table really seems to be all anyone wants to talk about these days.
I agree that food is a pleasure. I agree that everyone should be aware of which elements constitute "good food" so we can all make more healthful meal choices and enhance our dining and living experience. After we recognize that food is a pleasure and that we should be making good choices, I think we should pipe down about it.
Honestly, foodies are kind of tedious. All they want to do is talk about the genius thing they made, or the genius chef they met, or the genius magic ingredient that peons like you cannot get at the regular grocery store. It's self aggrandizement: "My culinary pleasures are better than your culinary pleasures. Nyah nyah nyah-nyah nyaaaah!!"
So what am I really asking with this rant? I am imploring everybody to learn which foods are healthful and delicious for them to make and share with friends and family, and then just be quiet about it. Don't drone on about it or give us a graphic play-by-play of how you savored every creamy spoonful of that creme brulee.
Get a hobby. Help a kid. Walk a dog. Call a lonely friend. There's a lot to life beyond the table. So fuel yourself well at the table so you can energetically push back from the buffet and do more.
Don't selfishly consume like some low-rent Bacchus and then bore everyone to tears with the details. There is life beyond the table.
WHAT?!!! Is food not your passion?? Don't you define yourself as a foodie?! Don't you harvest your own fresh eggs from the urban chicken coop you keep behind your garage? Doesn't everyone at the farmers market/Williams-Sonoma/specialty butcher shop/etc. etc. know you by name? Don't you buy your ducks still un-plucked from back alley place because they are so much better that way?
Not exactly. You see, I just really appreciate good food. And I generally enjoy making it. And that's about it. Isn't that enough?
I watched what turned out to be a real "yawner" of a Julia Roberts movie last night: Eat, Pray, Love. The first part of the movie really focused on Roberts' character enjoying the culinary delicacies of Italy...ad nauseum. This food focus just felt gratuitous ("oh, you simply MUST celebrate the culinary heritage of Italians whenever you talk about Italy")and kind of pornographic, in the worst way. As I mentioned earlier, I really appreciate good food, but I do not need to have the camera pan in on Julia Roberts' mouth while she slurps in a too-big-mouthful of spaghetti pasta. I don't need to watch her tilt her head sensuously while she wraps her lips around a piece of soggy pizza. It's kind of gluttonous and gross.
Obviously, the director was trying to illustrate the primal enjoyment we get out of good food, but he absolutely just beat the viewer over the head with it. And the pleasures of the table really seems to be all anyone wants to talk about these days.
I agree that food is a pleasure. I agree that everyone should be aware of which elements constitute "good food" so we can all make more healthful meal choices and enhance our dining and living experience. After we recognize that food is a pleasure and that we should be making good choices, I think we should pipe down about it.
Honestly, foodies are kind of tedious. All they want to do is talk about the genius thing they made, or the genius chef they met, or the genius magic ingredient that peons like you cannot get at the regular grocery store. It's self aggrandizement: "My culinary pleasures are better than your culinary pleasures. Nyah nyah nyah-nyah nyaaaah!!"
So what am I really asking with this rant? I am imploring everybody to learn which foods are healthful and delicious for them to make and share with friends and family, and then just be quiet about it. Don't drone on about it or give us a graphic play-by-play of how you savored every creamy spoonful of that creme brulee.
Get a hobby. Help a kid. Walk a dog. Call a lonely friend. There's a lot to life beyond the table. So fuel yourself well at the table so you can energetically push back from the buffet and do more.
Don't selfishly consume like some low-rent Bacchus and then bore everyone to tears with the details. There is life beyond the table.
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