About Me

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I'm a guy who likes to cook, eat, and drink, but not necessarily in that order. This blog is nothing fancy; just my random thoughts about anything that can be baked, roasted, or fried. Enjoy!

Wednesday, December 16, 2020

Remember When We Had Office Holiday Parties?

 “For just one night let’s not be co-workers. Let's be co-people.”

Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy (2004)

COVID has put the kibosh on a lot of things, but nothing has taken a bigger hit than the office holiday party, which every HR director in the country is probably thrilled about. So, even though we cannot gather in person this year, we can reminisce about office holiday parties past. 

                                                                                © 2013 Chris Terrell
    Don't have too many of these 
    at the holiday office party!

This is the time of year in which adults are thrown back against the current to their teenage years. The anxiety! The hormones! The embarrassing moments! The cliques! The guy who pukes on his shoes! I’m talking about the holiday office party, of course. Actually, a better term is “work party” or better yet, “work function,” because it can             be more work than fun and "function" because it feels like one of those medical procedures that you must get every year once you’ve reached a certain age. There are many different types of office parties depending on where you work and in what kind of industry you work. (Lawyers can be pretty wild when let out of their pinstriped cages.) To better understand the myriad office parties/work functions (or any party for that matter), I decided to compare them to some of my favorite movies. And to keep this blog entry as closely related to food as possible, I’ve quoted a line from the movie that relates to food or eating. I’ve now decided to make this a fun movie game: find the foodie quote in movies not ostensibly related to food.

The Godfather (Part I or II)

“Leave the gun. Take the cannoli.”

These are the office parties where your boss expects you to attend. In fact, it is probably required. When you get the invitation, you can hear your boss, sitting in the cold recesses of his top floor corner office, speaking coldly to his secretary: “I'll make him an offer he can't refuse.” These are typically invite-only parties, reserved for “upper management.” This fact creates envy amongst your co-workers who were not invited, thereby adding to the stress of the evening. If they only knew that you would prefer to trade in your invite on some kind of invite exchange and stay home with a six-pack of PBR, a pizza, and the latest episode of Game of Thrones.

The Graduate

Mr. Braddock: Ben, this whole idea sounds pretty half-baked.

Benjamin: Oh, it's not. It's completely baked.

This is the kind of party in which a boozy Mrs. Robinson wanna-be is in attendance. She spends the whole night trying to drag you into the back corner, whilst telling you how bored she is. This particular party guest, however, is in excellent shape for her age (expensive Pilates classes) and shows up one step ahead of the competition in terms of how many drinks she’s had. Her dress is expensive and low-cut and she always stands too close, with one hand glued to the small of your back.  Now don’t get me wrong, I thought Anne Bancroft was hot as hell in that movie and Benjamin Braddock was a fool at first, but it is a lot different when your office party’s version of Mrs. Robinson is the wife of an executive VP who wants you to marry their daughter. Of course, you spend the whole time worrying that you don’t drink too much and do something stupid. To borrow a line from the movie above: “women are more dangerous than shotguns.”

Another use for this movie reference would be the party with the really bad food; food that tastes like…shall we say….plastic? Oh come on, you remember:

Mr. McGuire: I just want to say one word to you. Just one word.

Benjamin: Yes, sir.

Mr. McGuire: Are you listening?

Benjamin: Yes, I am.

Mr. McGuire: Plastics.

Forest Gump

“My momma always said, ‘Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're gonna get.’”

Remember Bubba Blue from Forrest Gump? He was the guy who talked about 2,465 different ways to prepare shrimp: “You can barbecue it, boil it, broil it, bake it, saute it.” Well, this is the party where there’s always that one guest you try to avoid—maybe it’s Bob from accounting or Janice from the mail room—who thinks you are their best friend (or at least the only person too polite not to run away) and who proceeds to talk your ear off, as you try to figure out how to talk to that cute new girl in HR. They will tell you every boring detail of their otherwise dull life, as you try and pull away, reflexively drinking from a beer that you finished about twenty minutes ago. 

Titantic

“Why do they insist on announcing dinner like a damned cavalry charge?”

This is the office party where we know how it's going to end, and we know that it is going to end badly.  Like Mr. Fleet in the crow’s nest who first sees the iceberg dead ahead, the sense of inevitable doom is palpable.  These office parties are more typical for smaller companies  where everyone knows each other; the hierarchy is rather flat; and the workforce is young. Think dot com start-up or even a restaurant. I’ve been to these parties. Eventually, someone gets way too drunk. Someone gets way too belligerent. And someone gets way too frisky. And like The Hangover, Parts 1-16, no one ever remembers a damn thing in the morning. As a result, no one gets fired!

Midnight in Paris

“[B]ut I will say that we both like Indian food, not all Indian food, but the pita bread, we both like pita bread, I guess it’s called naan.”

This is the office party you haven’t been to in a long time, or one in which old friends or a girlfriend plans to attend, or even a party at the company or firm where you worked for many years. As a result, you have very unrealistic, if not downright romantic, notions about what to expect at such a party. As Gil discovers, the idealized past wilts in the blazing noonday sun of the present. But like the dialogue in Midnight in Paris, the conversation amongst old friends is relaxed and nostalgic and, like an old sweater, it feels comfortable even if a bit tight around the middle.

Well, there you have it—the unofficial five categories of office parties explained through the movies. Think of this as a public service announcement, for if just one of my 14 readers can better survive a holiday office party, then my life is certainly complete. 



Thursday, August 1, 2019

Baked, Roasted, or Fried: What Would Heidi Do?

Baked, Roasted, or Fried: What Would Heidi Do?: August 1 is Swiss National Day; a national holiday in Switzerland. It celebrates the formation of the Swiss Confederation in 1291 with t...

What Would Heidi Do?


August 1 is Swiss National Day; a national holiday in Switzerland. It celebrates the formation of the Swiss Confederation in 1291 with the Pacte du Grütli, when the cantons of Schwyz, Uri, and Uterwald swore an oath of allegiance.

We recently visited Switzerland; specifically, Geneva, Zermatt, and Ascona. It gave us a nice view of the cultural diversity that is modern Switzerland. Geneva is French; Zermatt is German; Ascona is Italian. They all speak different languages, but they all consider themselves Swiss.
The Swiss have a reputation for being efficient and fastidious....and boring. While I certainly wouldn't find fault with the first two monikers—their trains run like their famous watches, and one can almost literally eat off their streets—I wouldn't call the Swiss boring, at least not their "cuisine." Switzerland reminds me of America in that, while there is nothing that one could label "Swiss cuisine," with maybe the exception of fondue, it has made the most of cuisines from other parts of the world. 
In Geneva, we had an amazing lunch in a bistro that could have been on the Boulevard St. Germain on Paris's left bank. Laura had gravelax de saumon des Alpes suisses, mesclun, et pommes frites (Swiss alpine salmon, fresh salad, and French fries). I had the filets de perche—Meunière—pommes frites (perch filets in lemon butter sauce and French fries). 


The next stop was Zermatt, the land of Heidi and the Matterhorn. It was here that we had some of the best Wienerschnitzel we've ever had. It was also where I had cheese fondue for the first time. Fondue gets a bit of a bad rap in the U.S. It's a 1970s dish that brings back bad vibes of Lambrusco, bearskin rugs, mustaches, and polyester. But when done right, it's damn good, especially in the crisp mountain air overlooking the Matterhorn. 

Finally, we arrived in Ascona. It's like an Alfa-Romeo with a BMW engine—Italian elegance meets German efficiency. We dined on beef carpaccio and fresh ravioli and more fresh perch. We had an excellent wine from Sicilia: Tenuta delle Nere, Etna Bianco 2017.

I would be remiss if I didn't mention Swiss wine. Rarely seen in the United States, it is very good. It is mostly white and rose, but there are some excellent reds. My favorite wine was Dôle, in the Valais region of Switzerland. It is both a white and a red. Red Dôle is a blend of mostly Pinot Noir and Gamay, with an intense garnet red color. It has a crisp, fruity nose with fresh hints of black cherry and blackberry. Ours was la Liaudisaz, 2017. If you can find it, it is delicious and a bargain. 

Well, that's it. Switzerland in one, two, and three. A little bit French, a little bit German, and a little bit Italian. But 100% delicious. 

Happy Swiss National Day!






Saturday, July 13, 2019

Vive la République!

"Bâtir salon avant cuisine de la maison c'est la ruine."
    
"To build the living room before the kitchen would be a waste."

                         —French Proverb



Tomorrow is Bastille Day, a high holy day in my world—no secret to my family, to my friends, and to the casual reader of this blog. Simply put, I am a Francophile. I fly the French flag; I watch French film; my phone's ring tone is the French national anthem. And so one day, someone asked the hard question: "why do you love France so much?" I love France, because the French love food.  

But there’s more to French food than rich sauces and great wine. For the French, food is an expression of who they are as a country, as a people. The French are proud and contentious. They will squabble over picayune slights and long-held grievances, but in the end, they come back to the table as friends. Food is their nation's sinew. In our age of celebrity chefs and cooking as sport and dining that is increasingly didactic, I think we have forgotten the simple pleasure of sharing a  homemade meal with someone.

French cooking has a reputation for being difficult, if not pretentious. That's not really fair. Like any great cuisine, French cooking is agrestic—tied closely to the land in which it was born. In the north, there is fresh cream and butter because the land and climate favor dairy cows. In the south, fresh seafood and olive oil reign supreme. And throughout, binding it altogether, is an abundance of fresh herbs and vegetables and wine. Don't forget about the wine! 

How could anyone not love such a cuisine?!

So tomorrow, you will find me in the kitchen making coq au vin and French onion soup, or what the French simply call le soupe à l'oignon. 

Sunday, June 16, 2019

Happy Fathers Day

“Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards.” ― Søren Kierkegaard



Yeah, that's me.

You don't recognize me? 

Yes, it's the last century but not that long ago!

In this photograph, I'm frying up some bacon for my dad. My mom had likely just left for work. 

My dad being an enterprising chap thought it was about time that a five-year old learn to cook breakfast. As you can see, that's a hot stovetop with a cast iron skillet. What you can't see is the hot, sizzling bacon, and that I'm standing on a stepstool. Like so many memories, I'm not sure if I remembered what happened that morning because of the event itself, the photograph itself, or the family conversations this photo inspired. 

At the time, my dad worked from home as a freelance journalist/writer; my mom worked as a high school history teacher. She had to leave pretty early because the high school where she taught was thirty minutes away. My dad's job was to get me to kindergarten. Yeah, you read that right. This was 1975. We were ahead of the curve. 

My dad taught me a lot about cooking. Don't cook things too fast; have the right tools; mistakes happen.

Years after that photograph was taken, I moved beyond bacon in a cast iron skillet. I moved beyond my dad's taste in food—I got snooty and probably hurt his feelings. But I was always proud of making that breakfast for my dad. And as I look at this photograph now I realize that, with my own sons, I have a lot to live forward.

***

Just so you know, my mom wasn't too crazy about this photo. She saw it as maternal failure rather than what it was: paternal success. 

Happy Fathers Day dad!

Tuesday, May 28, 2019

And So It Begins Anew....

Once that patty of browned beef was laid on a bun for the first time, the hamburger shimmered into existence philosophically.  Because the burger has a kind of inevitability to it; it is a gastronomic endpoint, like sashimi or a baked potato. Its basic design cannot be improved upon.

—Joel Ozersky—


Even though astronomically the first day of summer is several weeks away, it unofficially began on Monday, May 27, 2019. Memorial Day. For most Americans, this means firing up the grill and grilling hamburgers. This year, I traveled to Williamsburg, Virginia, to spend the weekend with Laura, her family, and some dear friends from our college days who now live in the ‘Burg.

This year was a smaller affair than most. I made my usual potato salad and corn, tomato and avocado salad. But alas, no burgers because the gas grill was on the fritz. Besides, my friend Andrew planned on steaming shrimp and crab legs. They were awesome. And with the heat being what it was this past weekend, it was nice to cook inside. 

And though I enjoyed the quiet turn of this year's events, I could help but reminisce about that fateful Memorial Day weekend in 2017 when Andrew made..... Grilled Cabbage


As I mentioned earlier, Memorial Day Weekend is when a lot of folks fire up the grill for the first time. Now in May of 2015, we had a charcoal grill in Williamsburg, but the discussion that day quickly moved to whether we needed a new grill—a gas grill. I know there are a lot of purists who will not use anything but charcoal. But you can’t beat the convenience of a gas grill. I’ve had both, and I’ve found that I’ve grilled a lot more with a gas grill than with the charcoal version. Besides, our place in the ‘Burg is a second home, and things should be as convenient as possible. So, after a quick trip to the local Ace Hardware and some haggling, we got a real good deal on a Weber floor model. 

And then it got interesting. Andrew insisted that the lid on the grill stay closed. I was a newbie to the world of grilled cabbage, so I acquiesced to my friend's apparent expertise in this area. We then quickly turned our attention to the mundane events in our lives, when I notice flames licking out from underneath the lid, growing intensity. 

"Andrew, should it be doing that?"

"Oh, it's fine."

And then the grease trap caught fire—a bit too close to the propane tank for my tastes!

And that point we sprung into action and doused the flames and saved the cabbage and whatever else happened to survive the conflagration. 

Afterwards, we had a great laugh. It is still my favorite Memorial Day Weekend memory. 

For the not-so-faint-of-heart, here's the recipe:



©2015 Andrew Langer
Grilled Cabbage
(Courtesy of Andrew Langer)

Ingredients

1 head cabbage (about 2 lbs)
1 package bacon
1/4 cup Barbecue Sauce
1/2 stick butter, sliced into six pieces

Preparation

1. Cut bacon crosswise into small pieces. Sauté until cooked, drain, and set aside.

2. Core head of cabbage, leaving the rest of the head intact, so that there is a cavity 3-4 inches across and several inches deep.

3. Take aluminum foil, crumple and make a ring, 3 inches in diameter (see picture).

4. Mix cooked bacon and barbecue sauce together. Lay 3 slices of butter in cavity, add bacon mixture, then lay three more piece of butter on top.

5. Turn grill to high and pre-heat until temperature reaches 300+ degrees. Put aluminum foil ring on grill, put cabbage on ring. Close grill..


6. Cook cabbage for 60-90mins [though I think 45 mins to 60 mins is plenty], rotating cabbage head with tongs every 15 mins. When cabbage is soft all the way through, it's done. Don't worry if exterior leaves start to char—they will fall off when you take the cabbage off the grill.

Tuesday, March 12, 2019

Peas, Please Me!


Everyone should have a last meal. Mine is my mom's baked chicken, white rice with gravy, and green peas. Back then, peas came in a can—locally sourced vegetables was unheard of in the 1970s. Don't forget that T.V. dinners in aluminum trays with that mystery desert at twelve o’clock were the height of Western civilization.

But my peas didn't come in just any can—mine came from LeSueur, its silver, plain, slightly French label was the height of sophistication to this sever-year old. My mom would not dare buy any other brand. 

To this day, green peas remain my favorite vegetable. However, I didn’t discover fresh green peas until I was an adult. If you have never had fresh peas, then you don’t know what you’ve been missing. But don't feel bad because there is a a good reason if you haven't. 

Peas are in season a short time in early spring and are best eaten shortly after picking. They also don't travel well and spoil easily, which is why most peas are found frozen or canned. In fact, only 5 percent of peas harvested are actually eaten fresh. This scarcity reserved their pleasure to the wealthy and the royalty. They were quite the rage in the Court of Louis XIV of France. Here’s what Madame de Maintenon (second wife of Louis XIV), said about peas in a letter to Cardinal of Noailles in 1696:

The question of peas continues. The anticipation of eating them, the pleasure of having eaten them and the joy of eating them again are the three subjects that our princes have been discussing for four days...It has become a fashion—indeed a passion.

Peas are best eaten simply and require very little effort. They are good raw in a salad or gently simmered and served with butter and mint or other light herbs. 

Here’s a simple recipe for peas called “peas in butter” from Larouse Gastronomique:

Cook the peas in boiling salted water, drain them, and put them back in the saucepan over a brisk heat, adding a pinch of sugar and 3 ½ ounces of fresh butter per 6¾ cups of peas. Serve with chopped fresh mint.

Peas are spring’s reward for our survival of winter. So pick some peas (or more likely grab some frozen in a bag) and enjoy. More peas please!