On Getting It Right

 A trend that should end with the year: The influencer food critic.

The phrase 'go with your gut' has a great many more implications in the food world than most other places, but something all too readily forgotten is the reason it exists in the first place. It comes chiefly from persons of vast experience and expertise who subconsciously drew upon and analyzed those things in their decision making, resulting in more rapid, decisive action than might have been expected. The current common (mis)interpretation is near the reverse- it's used to justify 'shooting from the hip', imprecise decisions with limited information, time, and thought.

It's not that I don't understand it- the general public wants to be heard, so they look for those in which they see some fragment of themselves. Problem is, they aren't willing to accept a feeling of inadequacy, so they pin their attention and faith to the inadequate. Many things are popular because they speak to a familiar outlook or experience- but familiar doesn't mean worthwhile. Being the everyman only matters if it offers something worthy of attention, and there's a lot of improvement that needs to happen to the general public before that's reliably possible.

Listen to experts. Learn the principles behind what's good, why it's good, and do the work to appreciate it that way. Don't take the word of just anyone- especially someone TikTok tells you to.

I'm going to spend my last day of 2023 with a bottle of prosecco, making a very nice dashi for some 年越し蕎麦. A little East, a little West, and a lot of real expertise.

Christmas Humor

 

You know why Christmas is so popular in Japan?

Because it's exactly like Japan.

It's a bunch of customs and miscellany pilfered from other places and times that did it first, and then tweaked harder than a Ph.D's bibliography page.

Anyway- Merry Christmas, everyone.
Here's one of my favorite instrumentals, first introduced to me by an old friend.

Weather!

Dammit, I moved to California so I wouldn't have to deal with weather.

Of course, I grew up around contractors and landscapers, so I learned to deal with weather when it happens.

Whoever renovated this place quite clearly did not. I've spent the entire day stuffing towels in the window frames because there's more dripping and leakage than there is dry space, and it sometimes comes so fast I've had to wring out towels before putting them in the wash.

I bet gutters and a mild slope on the roof might have helped. I bet a sloped grade and a catchbasin for the parking area wouldn't have hurt either. I bet properly sealing the fucking window frames would have done some good too!

Wonder what the 'maintenance' crew will have to say about it. Assuming they ever appear.

Helping With Holidays: Learning to Host

There's a reason so many holiday disasters show up in movies, romcoms, and sitcoms- the general public unreservedly empathizes. Why? Because they don't know how to entertain! The craft of hosting is not as commonly learned or practiced a skill as it ought to be, which is how I've been keeping the lights on lately.

People have been asking me over for my How To Holiday consultation. The concept is pretty straightforward from my end- are you entertaining for the first time in a while, and think you might be in over your head? Have me come visit! For a modest fee, I take a thorough look at your house, decor, arrangements, kitchen, menu, guest list, and whatever else we think needs checking over. Then, together, we make a plan to help you pull it all off without a hitch. I get to eat that week, and they get peace of mind in an otherwise very stressful time. Simple, right?

Well... yes, once you get the basics down.

The notion of spectacle gets everybody from time to time, and it's really easy to give in to ambition, take a leap of faith, and faceplant in front of everybody you were trying to impress. So the first thing to do is Avoid That, and the best way to do that is to keep things simple, and play to your strengths. 

Got a nice house? Decorate without being gaudy, and make it as accessible as possible. Spacious kitchen? Consider bringing the party in there. Love to cook? Lean into it. But above all else, do these things carefully. 

• Fancy decorations? Might get broken if your guests have young children. Know your guests.
• Party in the kitchen? Make sure there's space for everyone, and that there's plenty of food that doesn't need cooking so the mess stays minimal. 
• Doing a whole lot of cooking? Figure out what can be done ahead, so you can spend more time with the people you really want to see while you enjoy yourselves together- last minute touches are all well and good, but not at the expense of your guests.
• How long is everyone over for? Think about traffic, travel, and relative sobriety.
• Shoe space, coat space, fridge space, freezer space, closet space, parking space, it's all important.
• What's on the radio, stereo, or TV? 
• How are you and yours dressing? What mood are you trying to set?

This is just the start of it, really. Learning how to think like a host isn't difficult, exactly, but it does require a measured, thoughtful approach. Once your party's over though, you've learned what worked, what didn't, why, and how to make it better next time. These are skills you can apply over and over again no matter where you are. 

The greatest gifts, after all, are knowledge and understanding.

In Memoriam

You always loved to sleep. You were ready when it was time for the endless one.

Goodbye, Mocha. Uncle Wolfy loves you, now and always.

Lisbon, Part 2

The vibe of the city of Lisbon is most intriguing. Everyone seemed to go about at a leisurely pace, yet still with steady purpose. As a Jersey boy I learned to Move, not to meander, so a little adjustment was in order. Taking the time to see the sights was well worth the doing though, and so I submitted myself to the flow of the more relaxing local pace. 

I was put in mind of New Orleans quite early on in my time there, and the comparison never really got out of my head. In another three or four hundred years, I suspect it would look a lot like Lisbon does now. Modern conveniences laid with care upon and alongside the well-polished bones of a vast and complex history.

Churches were huge, yet in addition to the massive basilicas and other sites, many such places were hidden among the streets just like any other building. That felt strange, given how externally ostentatious most churches have been in the places I've lived. Strangely enough, I didn't feel even a little out of place in any of these, even when the chapels were empty. Perhaps it's the history, the shared understanding of age and time that I have, and that the culture in the US really doesn't.

Markets and restaurant rows were plentiful and relentless- each and every one I made it to had a thoroughly raucous vibe, everyone enthusiastically going about their business on both sides of the counters, much and many open to the air. Though the weather was also a bit brisk, no one seemed to mind. There were lots of cookie-cutter souvenir shops with all manner of small, probably quite breakable things. I did, however, pick up some postcards. After mailing them though, I discovered that mail in Portugal can be used to set one's calendar rather than one's watch. So... mom, husky, if either of you read this, you may possibly get a postcard sometime in the next year.

Now touring the streets was made relatively simple with metro passes, so score one for public transit outside of the US. Big surprise, right? Pbbbth. The architecture itself served to make navigation relatively easy, with the buses and trolleys running regularly and plenty of landmarks. Though to my mind the metro stops really need larger signs or more visible onboard route maps. If you aren't counting stops or have a timer set, you've got to keep your eyes and ears open! 

It also seemed like every couple of blocks there was another bakery with the local specialty on offer- Pasteis de Nata, or 'cream tarts'. These suckers were everywhere, and since they're composed of many of my favorite dessert components, they redeemed a lot of the other less than stellar food.

They're actually not too tough to make- it's an infused custard, poured into what's basically kouign-amann dough pressed into a tart shell shape, then baked till crispy, flakey, and decadent. It's rich, buttery, and delicious while not being too sweet. I would cheerfully eat them every day (and very well may have- shhh, don't tell). Also they come most commonly in 6-packs, like the sleeve I'm holding in the picture here. That's why they're dangerous! You think "I'll just get one!", and suddenly you're staring at the empty sleeve, nursing a large cup of coffee, and wanting a nap.

The notion of Portugal having fantastic food is so pervasive, but finding the bulk of the reasons why seemed to want to take more time than I had. A notion, for example, that would not leave my head amidst a questionable lunch decision: "How does a place so well known both for seafood *and* for invading Japan have crappy sushi?" That was certainly A Day all right.

By this time I had more or less fought through the time change, but still groused about it at 3am when I couldn't stay asleep. Having the dreadful Daylight Savings hit me the day before I flew across the world made it a special sort of grumble-inducing. Though all that was nothing compared to the trip back. Never before have I actually wanted a layover for airplane travel, but the trip to SFO definitely had me wishing I had one. If there is ever a next time, perhaps I'll touch down in DC for the night, pester a friend for a couch and a ride, then finish the journey the following day.

Book Review: "Invitation to a Banquet", by Fuchsia Dunlop

I've mentioned before that in the pursuit of knowledge, prejudice goes in all directions. Now as then as always, the notion of 'authenticity' has done great and lasting harm to earnest effort and serious scholarship for no other reason than look, mien, or pedigree. It takes some aggressively enthusiastic commitment and dedication to aspiring scholarship and understanding to adequately deflect or overwhelm those biases- coming from those one might seek to teach as much or more as from those one might seek to learn from.

Which is where we run into people like me, who hunker down and do the work while being too poor to go anywhere or do anything but read and research. We also run into people like Fuchsia Dunlop, who dived into the deep end of the practical application side. Her work and efforts are quite familiar to me, and have been for many years- just a day or two ago I put up a review of her 2009 memoir to prime the pump, as it were, for this. 

As a writer, her style is shaped by her study- deeply layered with information in a manner like unto poetry, and very much designed to be as informative as possible in accordance with the level of understanding possessed by the reader. A (non-Chinese) layperson would read this book and learn vast amounts; a mainland Chinese citizen layperson would read it and learn no less, but different things at different levels due to cultural background osmosis; I myself smiled as I turned the pages, knowing full well many of the potential battles involved in being the Token White Person trying to be taken seriously as a well-informed professional in certain matters of Asia. 

The sections of the book are simple enough, with a Prologue, Origins, Ingredients, Techniques, Ideas, and an Epilogue. Clever structuring of subsections, however, is what places Invitation to a Banquet on a pedestal of excellence. Each one uses as its framing structure a different given dish from Chinese culinary history. This in itself is a cleverly complex decision, emphasizing the notion of layered levels of understanding. Whether it's simply recipes, or branching out to histories, art and culture, agriculture, or more notions besides, the chapters do a fantastic job of sharing the essential while opening many diverse windows of opportunity to explore further, and it does so with fluidity and grace. 

While that was a fine self-evident success, a historical analysis also came to mind, and I considered how component parts of the manuscript might have worked as examples of the classical Chinese 'Eight-Legged Essay' format. (I cannot see those words without recalling the class I first learned the term in, and a friend's idle drawing of a pile of grouchy looking pages with spider legs.) I'm still thinking about it, and may yet have thoughts on it, but that's too much for now- that will come in a more in-depth analysis at a later date.

Not only is the manuscript extraordinary, but her bibliography and acknowledgement sections are similarly stellar. Scads of sources in both English and Chinese, historical translations, modern works, familiar and uncommon alike. Then comes the massive list of persons from all parts of the world and all walks of life that helped make her, and thence this book, more clever and comprehensively complete.

Of all Fuchsia's books, this serves best of them all as either an introduction or a capstone. 

Read it with relish. Then read it again, and see how much more you learn!

Book Review: "Shark's Fin and Sichuan Pepper", by Fuchsia Dunlop

I've said it before- stories of foreigners (usually Americans or continental Europeans) getting lost in Asia usually make for a good lure while still being very hit or miss. The same curiosity that compelled the protagonists often compels the prospective readers to keep turning pages. So much depends on the author's ability to not only have grown from the experience, but to be able to adequately express the depth of it in a manner a reader can identify with. No story survives without engaging characterization, and far too many tales of trial and tribulation simply fall flat and make the reader wish for their time back. 

...Looking at you, Clavell.

This time, with Fuchsia Dunlop's 2009 memoir Shark's Fin and Sichuan Pepper, it all turns out beautifully.

What might be the most important part of this book is the immersion factor. The background for the author's journey to the province of Sichuan is set within the first ten pages of chapter 1, and we the reader almost never hear about it again. That, to my mind, is just about perfect.

“Growing up in Oxford, studying in Cambridge, working in London, I had been propped up by  a string of academic and professional credentials that had seemed to define me in the eyes of  other people. But in China none of that mattered.”

That tells you everything you need to know about the author's past, really. And very little else is forthcoming. Someone who picks this book up will probably have some preconceived notions about what's inside, and the importance of imparting Just Enough Detail to enable the story is in many ways a defining factor of the memoir genre as a whole. The pages that follow are full to the brim with luscious and intensely intriguing detail of China as it was after Mao, but before the modernist eruption around the turn of the millennium.

Much of the book's magic comes from the thrill of discovery, so I won't delve into deep detail here. However, several of the author's tales come with recipes at the ends, and the ones I've tried have been superb. Speaking as a chef, the level of detail imparted in the storytelling is enormous, and any trained cook will be nodding knowingly as they turn the pages. There's nothing flowery about the storytelling where food is concerned, it's all very down to earth, realistic, and sensible.

The prose itself is also deeply thoughtful in its detail, giving a comprehensive mix of history, geography, family life, and all manner of Chinese customs past and present, deftly mingled through tales of the author's daily life in China. Her thorough exploration of first Sichuan then Hunan is sometimes tempered by sobering lessons from the natives, but that's to be expected. No story is all smiles.

For anyone wanting an engaging story, replete with information and rich with perspective, swing by the library and pick this one up for an entertaining read that's full of history, culture, and life lessons that will stick with you long after you're finished with the book. Perhaps it'll even inspire you to dig a little deeper into the bottomless well that is China.

Lisbon, Part 1

 So, I recently spent a week or so in Lisbon.

I should open by noting I don’t speak a word of viable Portuguese. My Spanish has a fair bit of utilitarian vocabulary due to my many years in kitchens, and my French is at least sufficient for bakeries and pastry shops, but I admit to a great deal of trouble with the native tongue. The fluidity of it coupled with the Ss and elongated Js made it parse like mingled Russian and Spanish in my head- thus utterly incomprehensible to someone unfamiliar with the phraseology and diction. I found it much easier to work in English or Spanish- both quite commonly used. Got a little lucky there.

The flight safety video for air Portugal clued me in on that before my arrival, and also gave me a perfect followup at about the 1:40 mark. “In Portugal it’s not always easy to keep your belt fastened- the food is just too good!” Weeeeeell... airplane seat belt safety aside, let's just say I’ve crossed off a lot of possible places where people might have gotten that notion about the food. 

One of their best-known signature dishes / traditional specialties, the croqueta bacalhau, is a stellar example of things that, to my mind, might be better off left to history rather than remain a component of the everyday, even for the tourists.
For those not familiar, it's an offshoot of a once-necessary method for preservation- You take a fish (in this case cod, which is essentially all bacalhau refers to in Portugal) and unleash a combination of drying and salting on it. It's an extremely aggressive method, to the point that to render the fish edible again after the process is complete, it must be soaked for multiple days in multiple changes of water to leech out the salt and rehydrate it. While the technique itself is supposedly Basque, it has the feel of a method you'd see in Scandinavia, land of vaguely terrifying preservation methods.

Once you have your mummified-and-then-reconstituted fish, you then flake it like pork sung, mix it with a bit of binder, wrap it around something, and fry it till it's crispy. The filling that got the most play in the many places offering them as I passed by was a type of cheese (which I'm reasonably sure was Serra de Estrela), and as someone who loves Scotch Eggs, it tempted me enough to try. The result was basically the worst variation on a mozzarella stick that I've ever even conceptualized, let alone tasted. Not going for those again, thanks.

The most unexpectedly delicious piece of seafood I ate was simple deep-fried cuttlefish(?). But it was the underlying preparation that truly let it shine. Uncertain exactly what that was, but I suspect vigorous marination, perhaps even a quick-pickle, and pressure cooked to tenderness long ahead of time before being ordered, battered, and fried. The vigorous, salty twang struck more of a chord than almost anything that day or a few around it. Most else I ate seemed to suffer from serious flavor anemia by comparison.

The Itis: The Sandwich

Another dish where I noticed that more was in the Francesinha, a modernish, localized variant on the French classic Croque-Monsieur. On paper, this thing is a dream. Dude food, hangover food, drunk food, it ticks every box for me. It's an afternoon nap on a high-sided plate.

Many sorts of meat- marinated grilled or seared beef (of uncertain cut but with the loose grain of skirt or flank), along with linguiça, coppa or chorizo, and some sort of deli ham, all tucked in a sandwich, crisped like a grilled cheese, topped with lots of cheese and broiled, then drowned in a rich and spicy sauce of what was probably onion, garlic, madeira, tomato, and beer. And a fried egg on top, because sure, why not, we'll go full Croque-Madame with it.

I could eat one of those every day. I might die of it, but I also wouldn't really mind. So rarely have I the freedom to pursue the privilege of pleasure I qualify for, it might well serve as a common earned indulgence.

Alongside, one cannot talk food there without talking wine. Whoof. It’s everywhere, it's all sorts of affordable, and, by and large, it's very much not to my tastes. I didn’t pay more than a fiver for a bottle of wine all week… and given how they tasted I certainly wouldn’t have. I am not a regular wine drinker, even if I am conversant in how to, but the general willingness to kick back with a bottle of quaffable vinho over lunch had me a little impressed. Despite deflecting proffered pours as readily and often as able, I still drank more wine that week than in probably the previous five years.

At a very enthusiastic and informative wine tasting in a Lisbon museum, I found that it’s not uncommon to ignore the norm about blending grape varietals. In brief: The requirement to label a bottle as say, ‘Merlot’ requires a guaranteed minimum percentage of that grape to be used. While the required number varies from place to place, 75% is the minimum here in California, so I'm sure the EU has stricter standards for it.

The interesting approach I was talked through forsakes that opportunity to blend, and so I thought it worth a mention. Using blending grapes is more or less standard viticultural practice- it aids in more consistent, readily replicable product from year to year, but it does so at a potential cost. Using 100% of a given grape varietal ensures the distinct characteristics of it are in no way altered, muddled or smoothed out. I say it thus because some of those characteristics are potentially quite objectionable to the untrained palate, far more so than I might have considered to ensure them marketable.

Eating and drinking in Portugal is not for the faint of heart or flimsy of constitution.
More to come soon!

Cookbook Review: "Dorie's Cookies" by Dorie Greenspan

Come on, Dorie. Your book's title is Dorie's Cookies, so why is the first recipe a brownie?

Okay, now that I've got that out of my system, I can be serious.

It meets all the professional and casual expectations I consider important to a reader. Having worked alongside her in the past, I'm certainly not surprised. She's practical, reasonable, and fantastic to work with, all of which translates quite well into the book.

The first section is Techniques, Ingredients, and Gear, which is always important. Notions for getting the most out of your methods aren't something I turn down in a specialty cookbook like this. Minutiae on ingredients I can take or leave, but that's because I'm a professional too- the average home baker will likely find some useful tidbits. Equipment is vital- if you don't have the usual suspects, you'll know what you do need or want to get the job done. That's something cookbooks are notoriously bad at, and while baking-centric volumes have better odds, they still tend to be a little more “Well of course you need this- you're baking!”, which I don't like. Dorie doesn't do that.

Tools that remove variables are always a blessing in baking, so it's no surprise that most of them do that in some form or another. Some choices are obvious- the hand tools like like a rolling pin, a scale, or cookie scoops (just ice cream scoops with tiered measures). Then there's the heavies like the stand mixer or hand mixer, and the food processor. Most of the people looking at this book as something beyond a display piece will probably have most of this stuff. But there's also things like an oven thermometer (don't trust the number on the oven display), or what she calls 'cheaters', for your rolling pin. Elegantly simple- they're bands of set thicknesses to wrap around the edges of your rolling pin to insure your dough's also uniform. Don't underestimate the benefits, believe me.

Now we get to the proverbial meat of the book, wherein there's something for everybody. Lots of these I'd never see myself baking except to sell or send as gifts. Certainly not a problem though, there are plenty I'd happily bake every day (though of course I shouldn't- I like being the exact same weight I was in high school). But whether they're to my taste or not, they're thoughtfully constructed and intuitive to make. That's what really matters, right? No matter how delicious, the balance of “is this too much of a hassle” should always be a consideration, and Dorie does so from start to finish, sometimes so subtly you'd hardly notice.

I could happily run through the many chocolate, coffee, and almond variations and nothing else without a moment's regret- I actually stopped reading at one point to bake a recipe and see if it worked (Chocolate Chip Not-Quite Madelbrot, p. 104). Not only was it effortless, I cut it back by a third and it scaled perfectly. Recipes designed to scale up or down well are also rather uncommon, something she mentions here and there, so trusting one to halve or double isn't a big deal and there are usually notes if a recipe will make it difficult.

Several times throughout the book I'd be eyeing a cookie and think “Hmm, I wonder why she didn't add XYZ flavor/component”. Then I'd look at the next recipe or two and see one that did. Her flexibility with ingredients and flavor combinations is excellent, and serves quite nicely to fill out the book. (I've actually got another new baking book that does this very well too. Probably have a review on it by the end of the month.)

There's one thing that threw me a bit, but it's just perspective. There are a goodly number of savory cookie recipes in here, and my brain didn't immediately want to associate 'savory' with 'cookie', jumping instead to 'cracker', 'scone', or 'biscuit'. Don't let it get into your head, and nothing else will bug you.

Overall, this is an excellent volume on cookies. It give you what you need, what you want, and what you might try for yourself.

Cupboard Shortcuts and Time Savers

As someone who prefers to do most of the actual work of cooking myself, I still acknowledge the need for handling things in a hurry, whether it's for savory or sweet applications. As such, there are a number of things I like to have on hand as 'just in case' ingredients that I use to take some time lag out of delicious, or just save me time washing dishes.

Puff pastry. An expensive but essential part of my freezer, I always have at least one box on hand- usually the brand made with actual butter. Near to limitless in its utility, I've made meals out of samosas, pot pies, quiches, or rissoles, desserts ranging from palmiers and cinnamon twists to napoleons and curd cups, even snacks like herb and cheese breadsticks or mini turnovers.

Salsa. While I tend to make my own for direct applications, I also usually keep one of the cheapish canned supermarket ones in the cupboard. I could use it to bulk out my own batch, but frequently it'll get added as a liquid component to soups, stews, or braises. Don't have stock on hand? Thin out your salsa and get your work done. Ditto for making rice, though that may not look pretty.

Beer. This one's a little odder, but important. Rather like salsa, it serves as a foundational flavorful liquid for poaching, braising, or other techniques. Typically my go-to is a 12-pack of Sapporo cans, but most mild beers will serve just fine. Most recently, I blended it into a dark roux that later became a rather nice gumbo. Many of the other components had sweet and spicy notes, so the faint bitterness served very well to round out the flavors and bring depth to the whole.

Curry bricks. Yes, I use them too- and not just the curry ones either. I often keep the prefab brick for what the manufacturer calls Hayashi Rice on hand as well. While important to be aware of potential allergens, they make it so much easier to bring out massive flavor with hardly any work, and have food on the table in a matter of minutes.

Frozen vegetables. It might sound obvious, but growing seasons don't last forever. Many things with fairly short prominence periods are best preserved by modern freezing technology, but my freezer is small so my choices are limited. For utility's sake I keep peas, corn, and spinach available. They all make for suitable vegetable sides in a hurry, and can also be used to enrich soups, stews, sauces, or other amalgamations like fried rice.
Tip: when making a batch of soup you want to cool and store, add the frozen vegetables after you have the soup is done and exactly where you want it. That way the cooling process happens faster and more efficiently.

Applesauce. Odd one, no? But it's always in my cupboard. Moisture and flavor for any forcemeat, a foundation for dips, dressings, baking, sauce work, and if need be you can just put it alongside a sandwich to bulk out your lunch.

Miso (and/or Doubanjiang). These are in the category of essential because they're literally better than bouillon. Fermented soy products with tons of flavor, they can be used in marinades, dressings, soups, sauces, and almost anywhere you'd put salt- even on the sweet side of things. For example, I don't really like peanut butter cookies, but adding a little white miso to the dough creates a transcendent thing indeed.

Book Draft Writing Sample

Over the last year or two, I have been writing a guide to the various facets of household management. It emphasizes the requisite mindset and approach in addition to the practical techniques, and has proven to be quite useful on a regular basis- there's nothing like teaching things to make you think about them more thoroughly, after all.

Here is a partial sample of one section:

---------------------------------

On Cleaning and Cleanliness:

There are many facets to the cleaning of the house. While each room may have its own details, foibles and curiosities that require special attention, the basics should remain the same for the given region of the world you live in. There is no framework that is both precise and adaptable enough to be effective worldwide, so this section will be slightly broader-brush. Standard practices are fairly universal though, and will be noted first.

General Cleaning

Vacuuming, sweeping, or mopping of floors should happen weekly, with any movable rugs, mats, or other floor décor cleaned alongside. Door handles and the surrounding area should be cleaned monthly, as should light switches and exposed light fixtures, with the first two placing emphasis on removal of grime from daily human contact, the last mainly for spiderwebs, dust, and other interlopers. Staircases possess many corners and are prime targets for dust and dirt deposits, so they should be kept clear whenever possible. The banister should be wiped weekly with a damp sponge or soft cloth.

In a house with pets, these measures may requite supplementation, or a shortening of the recommended duration between cleanings. There will be an independent section regarding household animals with additional information and advisories. If the house has central vacuum equipment installed, there should theoretically be nowhere it cannot reach, but that should be checked. If necessary, a secondary vacuum or handheld 'dustbuster' can be kept on hand in case there is something that needs to be done quickly in an isolated area of the house. More mundane, nonpowered tools should be kept on hand as well, particularly in times and places where electricity may be unreliable or not present. They should include brooms, mops, dustpans, buckets, and a small stack of folded clean towels of varying sizes for scrubbing, as well as sponges or other, smaller scrubbing and spot-cleaning tools, specialized to the needs of the locale.

Toilet and Washroom

Bathroom cleanliness is hugely important in any environment at all, but doubly so in one's own home where guests might discover lax standards. The primary and most obvious concerns are the toilet, sink or sinks, and bathtub or shower. The toilets and sinks are to be scrubbed weekly with the tools and cleaning supplies of choice, and the shower or bath given a thorough cleaning monthly. Said tools and supplies may vary widely depending on the make and model of the appliances. A fiberglass shower, for example, will require a very different treatment for soap scum buildup than a tiled one, and a shower curtain over a bathtub will take different treatment for mold than a sliding glass door. The appropriate cleaning chemicals are to be stored nearby, ideally beneath the primary bathroom sink or in accompanying cabinetry or shelving.

When selecting cleaning supplies be sure to read the primary ingredients carefully, as many of them may be harmful if unknowingly or carelessly mixed. Bleach may clean and disinfect quite well, but most common glass cleaners use ammonia as a primary ingredient, and the combination creates lethal chlorine gas. Many other cleaners are caustic on both sides of the pH scale, and if under pressure can even be explosive. The importance of adequate ventilation during cleaning cannot be emphasized enough, as most appropriately vigorous cleaning agents are easily capable of harming the user before they notice, even when the directions on the packaging are followed to the letter.

Depending on how frequently the rooms see usage the period between cleanings may be adjusted, but the listed periods between maintenance will serve as a baseline. Cursory examinations of the bathrooms should be done to confirm impending need when collecting towels and bathmats or other linens such as bedsheets for laundering.

----------------------------------

That section continues at length into the minutiae of washrooms, laundry, kitchens, dining areas, and vehicles.

So as you see, the approach is geared towards basic functionality and thorough understanding rather than rote motion and action. The goal in developing this sort of expertise is not to have an environment free of difficulties. Entropy always wins. Instead, it should be to build an environment wherein mitigations are sufficient, preparations are thorough, and responses to unexpected or uncommon occurrences are not needlessly confusing or complex- the better to reduce stress and difficulty for all parties while remaining suitably functional, active, and aware in the act of coexistential service.

Dressing Up Desserts

 

By and large people are okay with box mixes when it comes to desserts. This is known. Now, there are levels of quality in them that can vary just as widely as if you were baking from scratch, but that's usually not a super big issue. If you're baking from ten-kilo bags of cake mix, your customers probably know what they're getting and don't really care. 

For the home kitchen, box baking is a serious timesaver and sometimes an eleventh hour salvation, but it's also something we all know about. So for amateur and professional alike, a great deal of home baking is about subverting expectations, and making things that come from boxes not look (or taste) like they came from boxes!

For that, we turn to flavor combinations, which for me come in tiers based on their intrusion factor with the recipe.

• Is it a flavor addition? Extracts, ground herbs or spices, sometimes liquid substitutions. Unlikely to affect baking time/temp.
• Is it a flavor and texture addition? A little more complex, things like nuts or fruit. Might affect baking time/temp.
• Is it a flavor, texture, and visual addition? Like the previous, but also designed to deliberately alter how the finished product looks. Often involves garnishes. Likely affects baking time/temp.

Now all three of those have their advantages and dangers, and they can be combined in varying measures to greater or lesser effect. Let's break them down with some examples using a neutral medium- say... a generic Yellow Cake Mix.

Flavor Addition: Might not change the look enough that people would notice... until they taste it.

• Extracts like almond, coconut, or citrus in lieu of the standard vanilla.
• Liquid in such mixes is usually water. Consider orange or apple juice. Earl Grey tea. A little orange blossom or rosewater, perhaps.
• The box might ask for neutral oil- could always brown some butter instead. Coconut oil works too, and any oil you'd use could be infused with spices ahead of time and cooled.
• Spices and powders. Ever ground up some freeze-dried fruit and mixed it into the dry ingredients? I have! Into the frosting, too!  

Consider- cardamom, browned butter, a dash of orange blossom water? Suddenly a cake might evoke gulab jamun. Perhaps instead some nutmeg and a splash of bourbon extract, and the cake might bring eggnog to mind. Even a bit further still- coconut oil, pineapple juice, coconut and rum extracts, mix powdered sugar and lime juice for a glaze, and we're in piña colada land. The possibilities are vast, and their presence can often be hidden till the first bite. 

Flavor and Texture Addition: People will notice when they take a bite.

• Coarsely chopped nuts, maybe some toasted coconut. Mix in, match with an extract, and you have a completely different, distinctly themed and flavorful cake.
• Dried fruit such as cherries, or chopped candied items like ginger.
• Minced or grated fresh tasties, such as apple, peach, pineapple, even carrot or beet.
• Chocolate/other chips or sprinkles. Simple but effective.

I've done dried cherries when making cake with lemon zest and lemonade- delicious! Also, there's always Carrot Cake, wherein people add all sorts of things, but I usually keep to grated carrot, maybe a little grated apple if I have it on hand too. A little texture, a little flavor, a little more fun.

Flavor, Texture, and Visual Addition: This thing doesn't look like it could have come from a box.

• Sliced fruit on the presentation side. Pineapple Upside-Down Cake, anyone? Works with apples, pears, peaches, and most sturdy fruit. Layer it prettily in the bottom of your pan (maybe atop some greased parchment to be sure it comes away clean), pour the batter over, and bake away. Invert, serve, enjoy!
• Baking tin variations. Bundt? Cupcake? Square? Whatever! Or do a thin rectangular sheet cake and break out cookie cutters for single-serving layer cakes. Or go even thinner and try to make it a roll cake! That's one tough though, I don't recommend it if you haven't had some practice.
• Icing, Frosting, or Glaze. Learning the magic of a piping bag and a suitable tip takes an hour of practice, and adds so much. Or even simpler- imagine the generic yellow cake with some minced candied ginger, but then topped by a glaze of powdered sugar and lemon juice. Striking!
• Stencils. Cut some stars out of a paper plate, and dust powdered sugar over it. Immediate visual improvement from an unexpectedly simple source.
• Crunch! Sprinkle a little white sugar on top and torch it till it's amber and glassy like a crème brulée.
• Toppings! Ganache, caramel, jam, marmalade, marshmallow, whatever you want- then something solid on that so it stays in place. Candied nuts, chocolate chips, basically anything you'd have put in a cake can go on a cake. Using toppings to clue people in on the cake's flavors is also a common and welcome thing.

So you see, taking a box mix and making it look like something special is easily within the means of almost anyone who'd be baking the cake in the first place. Experiment, explore, and enjoy!

Every time it looms, I have to consider.

I am no stranger to loss, pain, or death. I have seen them at every distance, and in almost every way.

Blades, bullets, surgeries, biotoxins, brawls, riptides, hurricanes, cancer, house fires, armed break-ins, attempted muggings, explosions, broken bones, dog maulings, bears, wildcats, rattlesnakes, lynch mobs, and being burned at the stake… let’s just say there isn’t much left for me to survive.

To mourn inevitable death is folly- instead be aggrieved at that which all too often comes before. With age and illness often come the loss of so much of what makes so many people what they are. That is what should be mourned. To still be the same inside, but to have lost the mechanisms to live as one might wish? Or as might have been earned?

Few things indeed are any worse, to my mind. But with the failure of physical faculty comes both introspection and a painful clarity. I have no wish to grow old, frail, or forgotten. Nor, in truth, should such even be possible. Efforts to provably better the world oblige better than that. Yet the same world would take those near and dear as easily as those far and forgotten. Evenhanded, perhaps, but never fair. With that unfairness comes anger. But anger at what?

Regrets? Always. Nearly never from choices made, but from those unjustly denied. Why? Simple.

Self-expression? Comfort? Happiness?

They’re privileges.

They have requirements. Qualifications.

Most people don’t, won’t, or can’t meet them.

Those who do? We die with regrets because our due was unjustly, unfairly taken by whose who don’t.

Absurdity in Eater, yet again.

I swear, it's like every time I look at a food related publication I see another mess to get annoyed about. This is about an blurb of someone's trick for finding solid takeout sushi. That tells you plenty about what you're dealing with.

 I'll link the article, but here are the highlowlights.

"While in a different place, I can’t be certain that their go-to order isn’t priced to scam tourists or being sourced from a sketchy ghost kitchen."

First off, who orders takeout sushi? Next- if you're worried about being scammed? Too late. If you're worried about a ghost kitchen? Probably didn't plan your travel well. Unwilling to extend a measure of trust to something you're putting into your body? Well... assumption of risk is a legal mess for lots of reasons.

"But I’ve perfected my method of seeking out a great takeout sushi restaurant by looking at the one menu item I will never actually order: the California roll."

Ugh. This is followed by comparing the California Roll discrepancies to the Big Mac Index, which I also take somewhat significant issue with, but don't want to dive into without more time to get some notes in order.

Yes, if you find a California Roll on a sushi menu, I wouldn't recommend ordering it- but that's because it's not real. The original California Roll used crab and fatty tuna. The reasons its current incarnation exists are that Uramaki (the inside-out roll) was developed to hide the presence of nori that was throwing off Western palates/dining sensibilities, and so that it could help ensure more consistent availability of ingredients, since surimi and avocado have less of a 'season'. In times past, that worked quite well, but massive lateral worldwide demand for avocado in the subsequent decades has caused prices to jump, transport to be less consistent, and quality to suffer. That's why the Cali Roll is looked at as naught worth noting, and also part of why it still exists in prominence- it's too culturally familiar to fade away uncontested, and lingers like a bad smell on a hot day.

"But to the owners of the everyday, common takeout spots: What is going through your minds when charging 10 whole, crisp American dollars for a single California roll? The star ingredient of this roll is imitation crab meat, for crying out loud. It’s not exactly a shining beacon of quality and taste"

The surimi industry is surprisingly dedicated to disproving that. If somebody hasn't had the good stuff, that's a them problem, not an us problem. If they want to get better informed, they'll get better informed- so they probably won't. Yes, a nontrivial amount of the stuff isn't super great, but if a sushi joint is worth its vinegar, you'll never notice. This sort of inflammatory blather is why there's cheap stuff in the first place! If the uninformed would just stop talking, the need to placate them would disappear, and so would most all of the lower quality product!

What's happening here is the mistaken assumption that something like this should be affordable, but not "~~cheap~~". The correct response is simple and universal: Irrespective of quality, prepared food is a luxury item- behave (and be willing to spend) accordingly.

Apples Aplenty

 
Apples are probably my personal favorite fruit. While nowhere near as many as a century or two ago, there's still a halfway decent variety available for purchase, and more still that can elsewhere be found. There's actually an apple orchard down the road from where I grew up, but it's been so long that I hardly recall the many different sorts. 

Whether tartness, sweetness, body, crispness, all manner of varieties and characteristics still exist. In truth, there may still exist a perfect apple for every potential purpose... except for whatever happened to the Red Delicious. That poor thing is a mess- they bred for uniform coloration, and in doing so removed a gene that added stripes... but also the majority of the flavor. Poor thing.

While I am likely to adore most any apple dessert (give me a Granny Smith apple Tarte Tatin with some vanilla ice cream and I will make it vanish), they have vast utility in savory applications as well. While apple sees a lot of play in stuffing whole roasted fowl (apple and sage, anyone?), there are also many preparations that combine apple and game animals, most notably of the porcine variety. Applewood smoked bacon, pork chops with applesauce, porchetta, all manner of stews, braises, and a great many sauces, marinades, and glazes that rely on apple for sweetness, acidity, and texture. The majority of commercial Asian 'barbecue' sauces have apple (or pear), and my own North Carolina pulled pork recipe uses both apples and apple cider vinegar.

On the science side, the pectin in apples adds viscosity while also acting in some capacity as a protein binding agent, which is why I often add grated apple to meatball and meatloaf mixtures- flavor, moisture, and structure/stability all in one.

I actually braised some pork belly in apple cider earlier this morning! Added some ginger and chipotle, got tons of flavor from the simplest of preparations. A fine lunch. 

Covering the Bases in Catering

 

One of the things about catering that most people don't get is 'What happens if the food runs out?' Logically, it's obvious. If the food is gone, it's gone. There isn't any more. 

But should there be? 

Unless there was a specified "All You Can Eat Buffet" notion, usually the answer is 'No.".

The standard method I use to defend against food running out is simply extra food. My catering platters are listed as serving a given number of people as entrée portions, and slightly less than double that number as side dishes. Those numbers are calculated by product weight- they're standard and reasonable to both casual and professional eyes, but the latter will probably recognize that they're what I call 'just in case' low. If the number of people listed are fed, there will be a few portions left over. That quantity buffer removes worry if unexpected guests show up hungry, or if an item is unexpectedly popular.

What about piecemeal items? Hors d'ouvres? Dumplings? Skewers? Same concept applies. If the client only paid for a fixed number, I'm bringing anywhere from 15 to 30% more than that.

No, they didn't pay for it. No, I'm not going to ask them about it, either. That's the hidden safeguard against an empty tray. It costs me money, but so does everything. I'm not going to begrudge additional expense for my own peace of mind. Typically, that's more than enough.

But what happens if something runs out anyway?
Then it becomes the client's problem to solve, not mine. It's their event, their budget, and their final approval of both the menu and the quantities. They got everything they paid for, and more besides. All reasonable precautionary measures were taken by me, and there is no blame to be placed.

Apropos of nothing, I have another catering gig to deal with this week. Hopefully it goes smoothly.

Ugh. Ouch.

 

These past few weeks have been rather painful. In addition to my own slowly-healing injuries, my partner had a nasty fall and is laid up with several cracked ribs. As such, a great deal of my time has been spent as caretaker. Work has been laid to the side, to be finished as time and circumstance allow. Hopefully all will continue smoothly, and we'll both be back in fighting form soon. Until then though, who knows what will come when?

Today deserves to be forgotten.

 

Another year since the day when my life, alongside untold millions of others, was essentially ruined forever.

As always- the correct response was to have no-sold it. 

Clean the mess, mourn the dead, and do absolutely nothing to let it affect way of life.

Instead *everything* was done wrong, and a developing global standard of communal living was crippled forever. Decades on, the world is a much more horrible place. The United States is drowning in fear and cowardice, most of its people too incomplete to qualify for the freedoms they pretend at. That state of being has sunk into many other places around the world, stealing choice, creativity, and hope from billions of people while warmongers and thieves in the corporatocracy carve up the general public by demographic for sale.

I've never stopped being angry that I had my probable career torpedoed that day. Year of planning and preparation, obliterated in an instant four days from success. But somehow things managed to get even worse.

It's been 22 years. Still get bullied by armed mallcops for bringing a travel-size mouthwash or a manicure kit, even just a nail clipper, onto a plane. No valid reason, just security theatre, manufactured by a bunch of sniveling chickenshits who want to maintain a culture of forced obedience and armed oppression. The TSA is a public health and cultural hazard that should be wiped out. Period.

Balance that against, say, an ongoing pandemic? Where for months at a time, as many people were dying every single day as were in the Towers? That was sloughed off, marginalized, talked down as 'no big deal'. The relentless push towards "back to the office" to feed the avarice of lesser men with greater pull, to protect a relentlessly exploitative and broken status quo. 

The callous disregard for anything resembling public safety, to the extent that now people are walking around hospitals maskless when a upward of a hundred thousand new people* are infected every week in the US alone. People with money and time can isolate, but it's gone endemic when it didn't have to, and it happened purely through selfishness enabling willful ignorance in the name of "normal". Unethical in the extreme. Reckless, greedy, cruel, and absolutely unforgivable.

Two things that changed the country and the world for the worse. Both handled completely backward, completely wrongly, and no one responsible or complicit is every likely to suffer as they ought.

The only thing to 'never forget' about such things is the betrayal. Of obligation to community, and the subsequent losses of the trust, confidence, and identity.

*I have to extrapolate from the existing reliable data patterns because the CDC stopped counting back in May.

Cookbook Review: 'Indian-Ish', by Priya Krishna

When looking at cookbooks, there are tons of things to consider- recipe count, accessibility, complexity, theme, time, place, readability, and more besides. Here's a subtle thing to check: "Who's the author? Who wrote the recipes?" If those names aren't the same, you might have a problem. This one, Indian-Ish? Bit of a problem. In rather smaller font behind Priya Krishna's name is the actual writer of the recipes. (Surprise! It's her mom!) While the book's tagline is 'Recipes and antics from a modern American family', that kind of subtle marginalizing of the primary source is upsetting. Culturally, historically, even practically, I get it. But that still doesn't make it correct.

The early pages have basics like spices, rice, quinoa, and potatoes- not uncommon for some styles of cookbook, and it doesn't hurt to have them here, even if it might feel a little patronizing. There's an interesting one on the technique of tempering spices and aromatics in oil (used as a finisher for many dishes), commonly known by its Punjab name of tadka/tarka/तङका here in the West. In this book it's referred to by the Hindi 'chhonk/छौंक', most likely to draw attention. Now this, I understand- it's a word that sounds funny to English speakers. It's more memorable, but it's also a somewhat different thing. Chhonk typically focuses less on dried whole spices, also including aromatics like chili, onion, curry leaf, even tomato (watery things!) in hot fat alongside spices, making a more complex, textural sort of finishing splash. The method and intent, though, are the same- creating a last-minute fresh, powerful flavor and aroma enhancer. In French cuisine it might be called a liaison finale.

Just save this, honestly.

Right after that comes a variation on something I made myself a long time ago- an ingredient flowchart for shortcutting Indian food. A clever quick-reference guide like this can be quite handy for the unfamiliar, even if the concept is as old as dirt. The notion of using certain static ingredients as 'building blocks' for delicious food is no stranger to a thinking cook, even if those ingredients vary widely all across the world. Given the book's likely audience, it's a wise inclusion of Mama Krishna's.

Now this book is here to tell a story just as much as it is to share culinary information, and the brilliantly colorful and stylized photographs couple delightfully with many of the shorter, simpler recipes to reflect that. Together they paint a picture of a family home rich in experiences and creativity, with just enough chaos to keep things inspired. Many of the recipes are beginner friendly dress-ups or simple tweaks in existing concepts, like the Lima Bean and Basil Dip (p.52) that's just 'hummus' via a different bean with some basil and lime instead of tahini and lemon. Building block concept, comparable substitute for the primary ingredient, simple flavor change. A well executed fundamental. A few seem to miss the mark- I don't recommend trying the Saag Paneer (p.83) without thinking carefully about seasoning first. Swapping the standard paneer for feta without a mention of the vast difference in salt content could easily lead to an inedible dinner. Keep that in mind and look closely at any recipes you want to try so you're not caught off guard.

Obnoxious on one side.
Uninformed on the other.
Everyone loses.

The flavor text, as it were, wanders widely. Topics vary, with things like fasting (Red Chile Potatoes, p.114), or traveling (Roti Roli Poli, p.135), and they often offer a good bit of color and context to flesh out what might seem like unexpectedly simple notions. A few, though, are heavy with gotchas likely to grate, like this one for Kichdi (p.158): 

"...But like many things in India consumed by small infants and ailing patients... white people in wellness circles have managed to co-opt the dish, acting as if they have unearthed this monumentous discovery... do all us brown people a favor and remember that kichdi was invented by Indians, not L.A. yoga instructors.". 

To give that kind of dismissive grief -particularly since it's hitting a sizable chunk of the book's probable audience- seems strongly self-sabotaging. I'm as guilty of the occasional White People Facepalm as any restaurant professional, but this book sometimes reads like it's trying to make a sale while giving prospective buyers the finger.

All the important fundamentals of a quality cookbook are here: the food's good, the recipes are relatively easy to execute, and there are how-tos for the entry-level stuff to take the fear away. Based strictly on the recipes and their photographs, it's a rock-solid read for all skill levels. As a whole though, it has a more dissonant feel. Food meant to bring comfort and happiness, shared by a voice that tries and fails to hide its insecurities behind eyerolls.

Cookbook Review: 'Madhur Jaffrey's Instantly Indian Cookbook'

 

Missed the subheading, but it all worked out.

While browsing at the library, a cookbook I'd not yet read caught my eye. Nothing new exactly, but because I know Madhur Jaffrey's quite good at creating them, I took a second look. Her work typically offers informative expertise and thoughtful perspective from a voice in which you can hear the smile. Brevity, however, does not typically make the list, so I checked the unexpectedly slender volume out and brought it home to satisfy my curiosity. Upon closer examination, I realized it was by design. While the title has some ambiguity, the caption beneath marks it as meant for a very targeted audience: it's a 2019 Instant Pot cookbook. At which point I went "Whoops. Hmm..."

Throughout the course of her decades in food, Madhur Jaffrey has remained fairly constant in her message and her method, so this deviation toward a niche, nontraditional (if very useful) tool struck me as a trifle odd and very interesting. While I don't own an Instant Pot myself, I have lived and worked for many years alongside people who do, and was very much intrigued at how a food culture that so enthusiastically embraces the pressure cooker might make a more comprehensive use of what's touted as an all-purpose tool but often relegated to pressing one or two buttons and walking away. 

Amusingly, the book's introduction starts with what's essentially "RTFM"- a person can do so much more when they're using a piece of equipment they actually take the time to understand, and the Instant Pot is no exception. The intro ends with her trademark disarming charm. "Feel easy with the recipes and incorporate them into your lives in ways that best suit you. The foods in this book are very Indian. But you may eat them in as American a way as you like."

Recipes go into exacting but never superfluous detail about Instant Pot minutiae, including settings to use, cooking times, and whether to release pressure naturally or manually- even how long to wait before manually releasing, in some cases. Such fine-tuning tells me a significant amount of work and testing went into the recipes, making me more likely to trust them as written. I particularly like the Rajasthani Gosht (p.104) and the Saag Wali Moong (p.18). Most of the book seems covertly designed for low-budget and batch cooking as well, making the book more more of a draw for its intended audience. In addition, there are a few all-purpose techniques for using the Instant Pot such as boiling eggs, as well as some non-recipes like Rice Noodles (steaming and sautéing store bought Bánh Phở), but the latter feel more like just-in-case measures, and fit in with no fuss.

Most of the proper recipes themselves are both familiar and interesting, and there are a double handful of no-cook salads and chutneys to round things out, accented with pictures that are appetizing and unpretentious. However, the amount of the book that can be readily cooked in a single pan with naught but a little more time had me wondering about their provenance. Is this cookbook merely stocked with recipes taken from others and reworked to fit the mold? Probably. Does it matter? Not really. This book is about delicious food prepared with a specific product, and it delivers as promised. If you want to work backwards and convert the recipes in this book to fit conventional kitchen equipment though, there's nothing difficult about most of the transposing beyond adjusting the cooking times.

Overall, while Instantly Indian feels gimmicky, it does so with clearly defined purpose. It's neatly put together, well researched, and proffers exactly what it claims with enviably detailed precision. While not a book I'd use for its methods, several of its preparations are going to stick around in my head for regular eating. I couldn't ask for anything more from a functional cookbook.

Don't Expect Me To Do Your Work

If a company asks me to "Upload Your Resume", that's fine. What should happen once I do?

It should be read. 

By a knowledgeable person. 

Who should then contact me directly for any follow-up.

What's more likely to be seen from a job applicant is that the company website immediately follows that action with a homebrew autofill of garbled nonsense it scraped from the resume's PDF. They honestly expect applicants to fix every little piece that the company's shortcutting screwed up, which is absurd. Any such company should have its board of directors and top five levels of executive hierarchy summarily jailed. It's unethical, cop-out behavior that doesn't belong in anything resembling a mutually beneficial work environment.

One of the three largest foodservice companies on the planet.
Not a single clue how to run their own operation. 

Worse still are the ridiculous levels of specificity so many applications call for- as though such things matter when dealing with qualified, educated professionals.

Don't ask for specific dates of employ. Year is always enough.

Don't ask for previous employer/manager/etc. contact information. Do your own digging.

Don't ask for employer street addresses. We likely don't know them any more than you do. Again, do your own digging.

Don't ask for GPA. Most university graduates don't know that even while the proverbial ink on their diploma is still wet. Plus, having them memorized is, for most competent people, a red flag in regards to prioritization.

Don't ask for a cover letter. Part of the hiring process is to ensure someone is a good fit in terms of education, skills, and culture. Cover letters are just opportunities to offer clever lies and show how well a candidate proffers Customer Service Polite. If you have to fake sincerity just to get in the door, it just rewards unethical, duplicitous behavior.

Though none of this really comes as a surprise. For example, Microsoft owns LinkedIn- how many of you knew that? The modern internet they've sewn up for themselves and their contemporaries (because 'competitors' is assuredly a lie) is geared almost exclusively towards data mining and targeted advertising, neither of which are actually necessary for it to function, and cause a great deal more harm than good. Such a premise readily extrapolates to the smaller corporations that dream of competition, and results in hamfisted nonsense like what seems like every online job application.

Automating the job application process is a terrible thing. It creates artificial scarcity while reinforcing institutionalized poverty through passive denial of access, all in the name of saving money.

If you can't afford to find suitable candidates in a competent, thorough, and ethically sound manner, why are you in business at all?

Recipe Dev: Oatmeal Cookies

I'm a cookie guy. It's an ideal dessert for a lot of people because it's self contained, portable, and scalable. A plated dessert might be fantastic, but would you order three of them if you liked the flavors? Almost certainly not! Cookies don't have that problem- you can have one or two for a nibble... or look around to make sure nobody's watching before you indelicately obliterate that box of Thin Mints you told yourself would last a month. No, I didn't see that- nobody did. Honest.

Another delightful point in the favor of cookies is their versatility. Depending on your ingredients, your scoop size, your baking time, and any number of other things, you can turn the same cookie recipe into very different results in a way you can't do nearly as easily with cakes, pies, and pastries.

Unless you're allergic to chocolate, you probably enjoy a good chocolate chip cookie. I certainly do, and put my personal recipe up here back in February. That one calls for a mixer, but but today I wanted to showcase a cookie that doesn't. The recipe here is one I sometimes send alongside my Almond Cookies in tins during the holidays- a pleasantly robust oatmeal cookie. A sorely underrated gem of a cookie that's easy to tinker with. A little on the soft side, not too sweet, perhaps a little crunch underneath, and absolutely NO FUCKING RAISINS EVER okay that's out of my system good yes hello there how are you? Ahem.

This recipe is quite simple, coming together in about ten minutes (before going in the fridge to firm up). I designed it specifically not to require a stand mixer since I don't own one, but I've found that having a hand mixer (or immersion blender for one step) does help yield a fluffier finished product, if that's your thing.

Equipment: 1x Medium Bowl, 1x Large Bowl, Rubber/Silicone Spatula, Measuring Spoons, Kitchen Scale, Half-Sheet Pan (~13"x18"), Parchment Paper, Oven

Ingredients: (Yields about 3 dozen cookies, but the recipe also halves perfectly)

275g Rolled Oats
225g All-Purpose Flour
2 Tbsp Cornstarch (this makes it more like cake flour)
230g Unsalted Butter (melted)
180g Brown Sugar
90g Granulated/White Sugar
2 eggs (L or XL are both fine)
2 tsp Vanilla Extract
1 tsp Baking Soda
3/4 tsp Salt
2-3 tsp Spice Mix (I use cardamom, allspice, black pepper, ginger, and nutmeg)

Process:

If you plan on baking these as soon as they're ready, preheat the oven to 375F/190C.

In the medium bowl, combine the flour, baking soda, and spices. Set it aside.

In the large bowl, combine the salt and melted butter with both sugars, and mix with the spatula till well combined and slightly fluffy. Then add the eggs and vanilla and do the same. (Here is where I use the immersion blender for a few seconds to whip air into it and ensure everything is aggressively homogeneous.)

In 2-3 stages, mix the contents of the medium bowl into the large until just barely combined.

Use the empty bowl to weigh the oats, then add and gently mix until evenly distributed.

Refrigerate the dough for at least 30m, or ideally overnight.

Line the half-sheet tray with parchment. Using heaping tablespoons (or a #50 portion scoop if you have one), tray out cookies 12 at a time in a 3x4 configuration, refrigerating any unbaked dough until needed.

Bake for 12-15 minutes, and allow to cool for another 5 once out of the oven before removing them from the tray.

New Look at an Old Friend: Medium Raw

Very little food media has the knack of true timelessness. More than almost any other field, its styles and methods are transient, mutable, and very much identifiable. Author, origin, and year go a very long way, but then comes the style- be it of page layout, recipe choice, prose, or photography, so many cookbooks and memoirs read as though they were carved from the stone of their era in the business. Sometimes those are shining crystal, others polished marble, and still more might as well be kidney or gallstones. They all leave their marks.

I decided to take a look at an Anthony Bourdain book today. If anyone in living memory served to define a generation's perspective on the restaurant business and serve as its face, it would probably have been him. Five years dead now, he left behind two wives and many lovers, a daughter (who manages quite well to stay out of the spotlight), and a massive legacy as messy and fraught with conflict as his career.

Kitchen Confidential was one of those rare volumes that mixed knowledge with candor and pain in a manner that not only spoke to people, but enticed them to more. To sit down, shut up, and listen- and then think about what was said. About who said it, how they said it, and why. It was a story of a life indulged, squandered, wasted almost in its entirety, and then through blind luck and happenstance, unleashed upon us all.

But that tale of frustration, anger, and war stories from the culinary underbelly isn't the book I'm looking at here. It is instead the ten-years-on incarnation, Medium Raw.

Straight out of the gate, to set the mood, there's a lengthy bit on the notion of 'selling out', wherein Bourdain admits to having tried to uphold some fabricated sense of principles, of integrity. Aghast that people he thought of as heroes were willing to shill for nonsense, he listened to them. He learned perspective. For the big names, the empire builders, it's no longer personal. It's about those that depend on them- the staff of the restaurants and operations bearing a larger-than-life name. The beast must be fed, and it can't afford to be a picky eater. Perhaps out of sheer stubbornness, remembering how many years he spent bereft of anything remotely resembling principles, Bourdain still clung to those supposed notions, resisting the offers of endorsing things or people that would stick in his craw... until he had a daughter.

Almost everyone has a price- though in fairness, I've yet to find mine. My principles have kept me warm when I was cold, and assuaged the hunger when I was starving. But it's tireless work and constant suffering for no tangible reward, and it really shouldn't be.

There's a broad section on heroes and villains, which is always interesting when it comes from the heart and mind of someone so awash in the potential for vitriol. Some real surprises in this section for most people, I'd say, but the neat bit is that it sets the stage for the rest of the book, which does a superb job riffing on that theme. Bourdain offers a much more comprehensive perspective than would have been penned ten years past, rich in tone and robust in descriptives as he moves from food writing and food media to squabbles between industry titans, a deeply personal look at the most important invisible man in one of the greatest restaurants in the world, and then finishing out with a thoughtful, uncompromisingly harsh look at himself, his attitudes, and his future.

In one last nod to Kitchen Confidential, the final bit 'Still Here' gives briefs of some names and faces of his own checkered career. It reads quietly, apologetically, even mournfully, as it all slowly fades to black.

At the end of the day, Anthony Bourdain knew he was on borrowed time. Never once even dreaming that he could have met the requirements for the life his lightning-in-a-bottle book gave him, he merely did his best to do it justice. Sometimes he failed, and he never shied away from saying so. In spite of that, he kept at it, seeking the deeper, more personal feelings behind everywhere he went and everyone he met; an explorer knowing full well he was on a one-way trip, but determined to make the world a more informed, aware place in that familiar coarse way he'd always had.

We should be grateful. But we must also be worthy. He wasn't. But he knew that he wasn't, right down to the core of his being, and his work has always made that hard truth quite clear. In that regard at least, his integrity was beyond reproach. That, above all else, is what will always make him memorable.

Anthony Bourdain: 1956-2018.

"Cookbook" Review: 'Japanese Women Don't Get Old Or Fat', by Naomi Moriyama

 

Every so often, and more often than it ought, the world handles surges of interest in fad diets. From Atkins to grapefruit to paleo, GF, or whatever else, there always seems to be something new and kitschy to try in the search for a foolproof weight loss technique. This one's got a good tagline with a faint ring of truth. It's “Japanese Women Don't Get Old Or Fat”, by Naomi Moriyama.

This is the tale of the author, her husband, and their joint desire to share their experiences with Japanese home cooking. It made them feel healthier, happier, and more energetic, as well as giving them something to research- the reasons why it might have done so, and the history behind its development.

Opening with a wave of statistics about the Japanese lifestyle, the book touts their long lifespan, low rates of obesity and heart disease, low healthcare spending, and many other things. Always be suspicious when statistics are used as primers, because you can use said statistics to say virtually anything you want. 78% of statistics are made up on the spot because they sound so effective!

Obligatory attempt at Logos aside, the next pages turn to Pathos. First comes a dramatic monologue in honor of the culinary skill, creativity, and devotion of the author's mother. As any mother should, she gives all for her children, even if they don't always appreciate it at the time. After that comes a stern diatribe centering on how devoted the Japanese are to freshness- foods not only dated, but *timed* at the supermarkets, and even 7-11s stocking tasty, nutritious composed bento instead of prefab salads and suspect sandwiches. Then came a detour to detail the lifestyle of the glorious and rustic countryside, how everything is so vibrantly flavored, fresh, and full of life!

It all felt so transparent, so obviously fabricated- but I couldn't put my finger on why. Understanding came later.

While the “How to Start Your Tokyo Kitchen” chapter is potentially handy for the novice, the truth is that a good cook already knows what equipment they need to cook dinner, and if they don't have it, improvising isn't hard. Some of the later recipes call for Japanese-exclusive cooking gear, and the author tells you how to jury-rig one. Why not add those to the starting list of equipment in the early chapter- perhaps as a closer? That's a much more suitable time to detail where to get things a bit tougher to find.

Time and pages aplenty are spent emphasizing the importance of at-table garnishes and individual seasoning, in accordance with the Japanese tendency not to individually plate, but rather allow self-service from platters- a technique borrowed from China, just one of many.

It grows quite tedious when a portion of every recipe's ingredient list has 'to use at the table' as a caveat. Such a concept needs explaining one time. After that's done, make a separate section within the recipe for the garnishes and table condiments. It's entirely too easy to confuse an inexperienced cook by piling all the ingredients in one column without adequate direction. Considering the prospective readership, I find this to be a massive, glaring error.

A full third of the book is devoted to what's termed “The Seven Pillars of Japanese Home Cooking”. Fish, Vegetables, Rice, Soy, Noodles, Tea, and Fruit are the vaunted pillars, and while each subsection has several anecdotes and a handful of recipes, most of them are rather banal. For a book that centers around what they term 'healthy eating', the number of recipes that use, say, refined sugar as a fairly prominent ingredient is more than a little bothersome when looked at with a more professional eye.

To counteract that, there are stories aplenty that seek to emphasize the healthy, life-giving qualities of the other ingredients. There's an entire tale that centers around brown rice- the barest film of historical reference is given to the fantastic tale of Tomoe Gozen, then used to create a veneer of confidence in the nutritional superiority of brown rice. I agree with the sentiment entirely, but the method is shifty at best. Fiber isn't a miracle cure.

I admit, I wanted to like this book, but I just can't bring myself to. It's trying to be a cookbook and reference text, but it doesn't have enough recipes to be reasonable as the former, or enough hard nutrition facts to shore up the latter. Mostly it reads like a slapdash memoir, bereft of the aura of legitimacy and believability that often feels so necessary when creating a suitable referential work. It's a collection of vignettes, loosely tied together around the common theme of Japanese home cooking being healthy and happiness inducing. Likewise, the book seems to hedge its bet, making the premise sound like something a person has to try for themselves to see if it works as advertised, rather than to try it and expect results.

If you're willing to trust the book and the author's message, feel free to trust the recipes. Some of the 40-odd recipes sprinkled throughout the book might serve you well, and there is a recipe index in the back. I will not, however, offer any recommendations on which ones are worth trying. 

As for me though, I'm not going to bother. This goes straight back to the library- ideally in the fiction section where it belongs.

Scholarship

A discussion I had this morning led me to revisit a relentlessly bothersome notion. While well-read by any, even every metric, I have no formal degree more advanced than my B.Sci. As an educator and professional, that causes endless difficulties when looking for work. Being a better teacher than plenty of people with teaching degrees grates on me when I see them in front of a lecture hall. Knowing there are JWU alumni (with degrees identical to mine) that I wouldn't have let graduate seventh grade has always been infuriating too.

Still, those horrors don't make my own development any less valuable or impactful, just less likely to make me a suitable living. In a great many circles, I'm the X-Factor. The one possessed of the broadest knowledge base and most comprehensive universal perspective, and an asset to scholars and researchers more aggressively specialized than I- the provider of missing links.

A former classmate with her PhD in Japanese History: "I wonder where Yamamoto Yae got that Spencer carbine of hers in the middle of a war that made shipping hard?"

Me: "Probably Civil War surplus. Maybe through Russel and Co.- American trading company based in Hong Kong. I think maybe they had another office in Yokohama?"

Her: "...*the LOUDEST gasp*"

It's the random little things that can open the door for a tidal wave of expanded knowledge. The butterfly effect in scholarship is very real, which is why cross-discipline communication is so incredibly important. Perspective grows more complete as information connects, not merely as it accumulates.