Entry #7: Chicken Pozole

Chicken Posole

Ingredients
2 pounds boneless, skinless chicken breasts
1 tablespoon olive oil
2 medium onions, chopped
8 garlic cloves, minced
1/3 cup tomato paste
3 tablespoons chili powder
1 teaspoon dried oregano
4 (14 1/2 ounce) cans reduced-sodium chicken broth
4 (15 ounce) cans white hominy, drained
coarse salt
pepper

Garnishes (optional)
avocados
cilantro
thinly sliced radishes
crumbled tortilla chips

Directions
Cut chicken breasts into large chunks and boil until fully cooked, 10 to 15 minutes. Remove from water and allow to cool; shred by hand.
Heat oil in a 5-quart saucepan over medium heat. Add onions; cook until translucent, 3 to 5 minutes. Add garlic, tomato paste, chili powder, and oregano; cook, stirring constantly, until evenly distributed.
Add 4 cups water, broth, and hominy. Bring to a boil; reduce heat to a simmer, and cook until fragrant, about 30 minutes.
Stir in chicken; season with 1 teaspoon salt and 1/4 teaspoon pepper. Cook until heated through.
To serve, divide among bowls, and garnish as desired.




I chose this recipe because it blends my love of soup with the spice and flavors of Mexican food. Growing up in a Polish household means embracing the idea of soup as a dinner option, and my mother knows how to make just about every type of soup. She tends to keep things pretty traditional though, and so I was surprised when I brought a bowl of posole to her house one day and she wanted to know how to make it! I've cooked for my mother before, and while she usually likes it, she has never asked me for a recipe, so this dish has a special meaning between her and I (though I'm not sure she understands what it means to me).

I, in turn, learned to make posole from my girlfriend, Shannon. She grew up in a predominantly Hispanic neighborhood and has taught me a lot about traditional Mexican cooking. When we first moved in to our apartment, she asked if we could make posole. I had never even heard of posole, let alone tasted it, but I was up for the challenge. It was a learning experience for me in cooking Mexican food at home (an extremely spicy chicken mole was soon to follow) and a fond memory of our relationship.

Entry #6: Let Them Eat Grinch Cake!

Every Christmas, my grandmother makes what she calls “Grinch cake.” Essentially, it’s a pistachio bundt cake with extra green food coloring, but to me, it’s much more than that.

The first Christmas that I was old enough to walk, I walked into the kitchen and saw the glorious Grinch cake, taunting me as it were, sitting next to the sink. I stood away from the counter, trying to judge its approximate distance from the edge because once I actually walked up to the counter, I was too short to see over it. I struggled and reached and grabbed what I could grab of the spongy confection, leaving crumbs in my wake and telltale claw marks in the cake. While everyone else was in the living room watching The Little Drummer Boy, I made frequent trips back to the kitchen, clutching handfuls of the cake each time. Eventually, my mother grew suspicious over why I was going to the kitchen and followed me. I was busted.

When it came time for dessert, my family split up what was left of the cake, about half of it as I was told. From that year on, my grandmother had to make two Grinch cakes, one for everyone to eat (which was kept above the fridge) and a cake left on the counter for me to pick at. Now, not only did I have the taste of the cake to enjoy, but it had also become a sort of ritualistic game and a family in-joke for sure. It has ever since been an important part of my Christmas experience, something that helps me “…to remember the warmth and laughter surrounding family gatherings…”. Even now at 24 years old, my grandma makes me a mini-Grinch cake to take home and eat.

I’ve had other pistachio cakes since then, but none of them compare to my grandma’s Grinch cake.

Entry #5: Khyber Pass Restaurant Review

Khyber Pass

1031 Lake Street
Oak Park, IL

Set in the heart of downtown Oak Park, Khyber Pass is a quaint Indian restaurant that serves as a buffet for lunch (11:30-3:30), dinner later and offers carry out and delivery.

Walking in, I was first greeted by the enticing aroma of cumin and curry, then by the host. The atmosphere is nothing spectacular, a dozen or so tables set for two or four, though a larger dinning room is visible past the bar set to the left of the buffet line.

Speaking of, the buffet consists of one long table. My first experience with Indian food was at Khyber Pass, and it opened a whole new door of flavors to me, leaving me feeling as if “I had had an adventure [and] tasted forbidden fruit…” as Bourdain put his experience tasting oysters for the first time. Every item is clearly labeled in English translation as well as a brief description, making it highly accessible for first timers.

The choices vary slightly day-to-day, but Indian standards such as basmati rice and lamb curry are always available, as well as a small salad bar with four Indian dressings. I found the dressings surprisingly bland and watery, though my girlfriend likes them. The lamb, however, is fantastic, melt-in-your-mouth tender and cooked in a sauce made with onions and cumin as well as bones for a deep, savory flavor. For me, the real showstopper was the chili chicken. At first, I was a little hesitant at the sight of the magma red mustard sauce; I’m no stranger to spicy Indian food, but could this be too much? There was definitely a kick, but I was pleasantly surprised by the creamy complexity of the sauce.

I can’t make many comments about the service since I went for the buffet lunch, though I can say our plates were picked up and our waters refilled in the short time it took to go up for seconds (and thirds).

Included with the buffet is a basket of freshly baked Nann bread (perfect for soaking in leftover sauce) and a sizzling skilled of tandori chicken (which is rather dry and uninspiring) brought hastily to your table. For dessert, they also offer mango ice cream and a really delicious, heat-neutralizing type of Indian rice pudding flavored with rich, silky cream, cinnamon, and carrots.

At $12 a person, Khyber Pass is a great place for those interested in exploring Indian food on a budget. Still, there is no sacrificing in the quality of the food and is a great place for a different kind of casual lunch.

Plate of basmati rice, mixed vegetables, chili chicken, and Indian green beans.

Entry #4: "Bon Appetit!"

Part I of Julia Child’s My Life in France focuses on her development of a cooking philosophy while studying at the Cordon Bleu, the end result of which is to respect the food and serve it with pride. The art of preparing food, especially food to be served to others, is a direct reflection of the chef in more ways than his or her ability to measure, mix, and cook. Child recalls watching her teacher, Chef Bugnard, prepare scrambled eggs:

It was a remarkable lesson. No dish, not even the humble scrambled egg, was too much trouble for him. “You never forget a beautiful thing that you have made,” he said. “Even after you eat it, it stays with you—always.”

Barthes’ theory that “…food sums up and transmits a situation…it signifies” falls right in line with Bugnard’s words. The same recipe given to a hundred different chefs will come out a hundred different ways, and Julia Child’s success (as any successful chef’s) depends on identifying what their individuality brings to the table, if you’ll excuse the pun.

A healthy amount of pride is a key aspect shared by all great chefs, as we’ve seen in Reichl’s Tender at the Bone. Both her and Child have proven that the recipes and cooking skills native to your mother’s kitchen is just the start; allowing the world to influence your sense of taste and broaden your perspectives is what will make you great. You might start with scrambled eggs or potato salad, but if you open yourself to trying poularde toulousaine or boeuf a la bouruignonne, anything is possible.

Barthes’ theory mentions that buying and consuming food is a way of transmitting information as well. For Julia Child, food became her way of sharing her love of France to the world. Not just French food, but France itself. As she puts it, French food encompasses “the tastes, the processes, the history, the endless variations, the rigorous discipline, the creativity, the wonderful people, the equipment, the rituals.” This resonates with Barthes’ theory that food transmits a situation as well as Reichl’s tendency to equate a recipe to a place (and vice versa).

And now, watch Julia Child make an omelette. :-D

Entry #3: Food Inventory

Friday, June 3
Coffee
Spinach and bacon soufflé, coffee
Cheeseburger with avocado, French fries, Pepsi
Chocolate shake
Chicken satay, half of an egg roll, beef fried rice, schezwan beef, volcano beef tenderloin, white rice, fortune cookie, zombie

Saturday, June 4
Pop Tart, coffee
Zuppa Toscana, breadstick, pastaccheti with sausage, coke
3 pieces of chocolate
Miller Genuine Draft
Chips and guacamole, steak burrito, fruit punch

Sun, June 5
Scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, hash browns, chocolate chip muffin, honeydew, cantaloupe, coffee
Cheese pizza, RC cola, chocolate cake with banana whipped cream, coffee
Steak fajitas, rice, beans, Pepsi
Half of a brownie

Mon, June 6
Cinnamon crunch bagel with cream cheese, coffee
Bacon Turkey Bravo sandwich, baked potato soup, Pepsi
Chicken casserole, Pepsi
Toffee nut cookie, coffee

Tuesday, June 7
Asiago bacon, egg and cheese breakfast sandwich, coffee
Chicken casserole, Pepsi
Sweet and sour chicken, pan fried noodles, chicken fried rice, water
Cheese kolacky

What I Noticed
The most noticeable pattern in my diet is how I eat what is convenient during the first half of my day and what I “want” in the second half. For example, breakfast usually consists of something fast (a Pop Tart) or something at work (a soufflé or a bagel) while my dinners tend to be more varied.

Another pattern, one which I’m not too proud of, is my tendency to end my day with a pastry. I usually don’t consider myself a fan of desserts, but looking over these past few days, I might have to change it to “I’m not a fan of desserts…during the day.” :-p

Entry #2: Blog Analysis, The Timid Cook

http://timidcook.blogspot.com/

Format and Layout
The layout is simple and uniformly structured. Most updates adhere to the following outline:

1. A story/background about the dish
2. A picture (if any)
3. Ingredients/directions
4. Closing remarks (if any)

This format makes the blog accessible and easy to sort through; there’s nothing worse than a blog that’s supposed to be about one thing but ends up being a family photo album or promotional tool for the blogger’s book.

Content and Purpose
As mentioned above, most of the blog is comprised of recipes, almost all of them Bengali. The header makes the purpose clear, “…some very easy, quick and fool proof recipes…” While this may be true for people familiar with Bengali food, the average Westerner might have a harder time finding the ingredients listed, let alone how to cook with them. Speaking as a somewhat adventurous home cook, I would attempt some of the dishes, which I think is the second purpose (intentionally or not) to introduce unfamiliar food in a clear, non-imposing way.

Language and Tone
Opening each recipe with a short background or anecdote provides some intimacy to each dish. The writer has a strong command of the English language and that, too, helps make the unfamiliar approachable.

What Can Be Gathered About the Writer?
Clearly, the writer has strong Bengali roots. According to the inaugural post in 2005, the writer confesses “my cooking is erratic” and that cooking isn’t their passion; literally, the writer is a timid cook with a few family recipes. The updates are few and far between (once or twice a month), so clearly, they don’t want or intend to become a published food writer.

Bourdieu, What Do You Know?
Bourdieu’s theory that the perceived luxury of food is “…designated by [its] rarity…” runs deep under the surface of the blog. To the writer, these are familiar dishes, common comfort foods from home. To the average Western audience, however, these dishes appear largely exotic and, arguably, exotic. Still others might find them intimidating or flat-out unappetizing, proof that taste is relative to audience.

Entry #1: Setting the Table

1. Food writing: what are your experiences with both reading and writing about food?

I have next-to-no experience writing about food, except maybe for what has unintentionally worked its way into my fiction, like the time doctors thought my great-grandfather's stomach was bleeding after eating too much czernina (aka, ducks-blood soup). What I’ve read about food is a little more developed; I read FoodNetwork Magazine, own a few cookbooks, and have read some food literature such as Fast Food Nation and The Omnivore's Dilemma.

2. What roles does food play in your life? How important or unimportant is it to you? In what ways does it feel simple and/or complex?

Sometimes, I eat just to satisfy hunger. We all do. When I'm on break working at Panera Bread, I get a bagel if it's breakfast, a sandwich and soup (or a salad if I'm feeling bloated that day) if it's lunch time. Nothing mystical there. Dinner, now that's a completely different story. When I eat out, I make it worth my time. I try not to go to the same restaurant more than once a month because there's just too much great food in this city to eat the same thing over and over, and nowhere is this more true than for chains like Applebee's and The Olive Garden. I like my dinners to be exotic, an experience, whenever possible. When I look at a menu, I look for that one item that I couldn't get anywhere else.

There is but one exception to this rule: wings. God, how I love buffalo wings, but I'll save that for another time.

3. Has this roles changed over the years? Talk specifically about your younger self vs. your older self. If food has stayed the same for you, explain why.

When I try to remember back to when I began thinking of food as an experience, it saddens me that I can't. I clearly remember being so picky that I wouldn't even eat pizza. Yeah, pizza! Everyone in class goes to Danny's birthday party at Pizza Hut, and all I eat is breadsticks with no sauce. Now, I eat more sushi than is probably good for me. That's it, there is no middle ground, no transitional period to my recollection.

Whatever it was that clicked, it changed me, if you'll pardon the cliche. When I started to enjoy grilled tilapia and chipotle mayonnaise and arrachera, life took on a new, more visceral quality. Food, I came to realize, could be an event, something I could truly anticipate and save up for rather than a mode for stopping my stomach from growling. As I started cooking for myself (more than Pop Tarts and Ramen noodles), I began to focus on every detail of every meal I ate, thinking, if the meal was good, how I could re-create the dish in my own kitchen.

Being my own cook has profoundly changed my own identity. Getting back to nine-year-old, picky, pain in the ass Richie, my mother was a traditional cook. Pot roast, mostaciolli, and mashed potatoes with every meal. Accessible food, but I still wouldn't eat it. Maybe that's what it was, my palette had grown beyond my peers and while everyone was telling me I was picky, I was really just bored with what they were eating. :-p

4. French critic Brillat-Savarin said, "Tell me what you eat and I'll tell you what you are." What do you think food says about us? What beliefs, perceptions, and judgments do we make about others based on the food they eat? How do we classify those around us--and ourselves--through food?

More than anything, I think the food we eat is a representation of out self-worth, a factor of our lives that correlates with how we identify ourselves and what is important to us. Someone who dines exclusively at high end, five-star restaurants thinks they are entitled to only the best things in life, while someone who's diet consists of McDonald's more than once a day might consider food as a way of staying full and flavor a minor concern to other obligations, or maybe they're just lazy. These are merely generalizations, of course, but how does this question concern me?

I'm certainly not above eating McDonald's and I've spent over $50 for dinner on occasion, too. Personally, I think to fully enjoy "great" food, you have to eat all food, not just the creme de la creme every day. All criticism requires some frame of reference; to fully appreciate complex food, you have to remember what simple food is, like a well-rounded reader should study both modern and classic literature, or a musician should understand classical and contemporary music.

5. Food is universal--we all have to eat, so food often becomes a way to bring people together (holidays, family gatherings, celebrations, dates). But food can also separate and alienate us. Talk about an experience you've had with both.

I come from an extremely close-knit family, Polish on one side and Italian on the other, so we eat. A lot. My grandma has always hosted for the holidays, and that's not just Christmas and Thanksgiving, I'm talking Easter, Memorial Day, Grandparents Day...hell, she would cook for Boxing Day if I suggested it. "Food" and "togetherness" are synonymous in my family, though there is an exception...

The one kink (not to be read "annoyance") in our holiday plans has always been my Aunt Tammy and Uncle John. My aunt has always been the black sheep of the family, "the weird one" as my grandpa is fond of saying, not because she's a career criminal or anything, but because she's not divorced, has a college degree, owns one television, reads for pleasure, and--strangest of all--is a vegetarian. So, while we're all eating turkey and ham, they either bring a tofurkey loaf or Veggie-Delites from Subway. The dynamic isn't much different when they host dinner, which is a rare exception.

My aunt makes the most delicious baked salmon, and since she only buys organic, the quality of every piece of the meal is heightened. Sadly, I've always felt this effort lost on the rest of my family, as they prefer fried over baked fish and mashed potatoes over rosemary fingerling potatoes. It's strange, being together yet apart for dinner.