I find lately that much of my expendable brainpower is focused on food. I dream up recipes, I read food essays, I Tivo the food network as much as my roommates will tolerate, and I surf a growing list of food blogs. Oh, and I cook, let’s not forget that. To be honest I do not cook as often, as adventurously, or as successfully as I would like, but I think a couple of my dishes are worth repeating. And now I want to start writing about food. To that end I intend to start including recipes, photos and ruminations on all things cuisine.
My first foray into the world of reading food writing (aside from cookbooks and the NY Times) was Julie and Julia, the memoir of Julie Powell, a reluctant New York Secretary who set herself the mission of cooking her way through Julia Childs’ Mastering the Art of French Cooking Vol. One in one year. It is an admirable task, and to her credit she succeeded. I would not be so bold as to try the same, not only because I have absolutely no desire to eat Aspic for several weeks, but because I think the endeavor would send me over the edge. Cooking and eating can be emotional experiences, and I look to cooking as a way to unwind, a sort of meditation. I don’t think I could handle subjecting that pleasure to a timeline and recipe checklist.
This afternoon I spent a couple hours at Greenlake Park reading “A Cooks Tour” by Anthony Bourdain. I have never read anything that made me want to travel to Vietnam, but Bourdain’s ability to look past the poverty and squalor to recognize a pride and tradition that has carried the Vietnamese people through continual occupations comes close. In his words “you cannot help but be impressed and blown away by the hard work, the attention to detail, the care taken in every facet of daily life, no matter how mundane, no matter how difficult the circumstances. Spend some time in the Mekong Delta and you’ll understand how a nation of farmers could beat the largest and most powerful military presence on the planet.” His admiration for the food, the land, and the people comes through in his account. It was from Bourdain that I learned Ho Chi Minh, the Communist leader of Vietnam, was a classically trained French Chef. He had trained as a saucier at the Carleton Hotel (Paris, of Ritz Carleton fame) under the master of modern French cooking, August Escoffier.
I find that my internet browsing has shifted towards food as well. Julie Powell had initially chronicled her MTAOFC endeavor on a blog, which at the time was still relatively unknown (before we all won Time Magazines People of the Year), and the blogosphere is now littered with cool food blogs. A few I would highly recommend are Tastespotting, Becks & Posh, and Habeas Brulee. I recently discovered a wonderful blog called Fancy Toast, and was inspired by her story of an inconsolable brussels sprout. And so I have decided to try posting more about my own culinary adventures, with the hope that a) I will embark on more culinary adventures, and b) I will get back into the habit of writing regularly.
*Notes:
I should note that my former roomie Stiglesworth has started posting her recipes, and while I haven’t tried to recreate any of them, I have enjoyed reading them.
According to Wikipedia, there is little evidence that Ho Chi Minh trained with Escoffier (they say as a pastry chef) but there is a plaque on the building (now New Zealand House, the Carleton was destroyed during the Blitz).
Apparently Brussels sprout is a “countable noun,” and the plural form is Brussels sprouts. The provenance of Brussels argues against calling it a Brussel sprout, and Microsoft word doesn’t care for the habit either. Look forward to posts on bread pudding, fondant, winter wheat, the Herbfarm, my less than successful attempts to poach and egg, and the new and improved 24-hour breakfast.
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