Vampire Bats and Halloween Candy

The midterm for my Anthropology of Material Culture class was on Tuesday and it was tougher than I'd expected (whine). By the time I finished, I was covered in eraser crud but grateful that I recognized all but one question. The stumper? Describe reciprocal altruism in vampire bats.

Turns out that bats practice reciprocal altruism - basically the exchange of acts which benefit both giver and receiver over time - by sharing meals. Let's just say this involves the words 'blood' and 'regurgitate' and then leave it at that.

It occurred to me that perhaps Halloween is another example of reciprocal altruism. Consider the scenario: a young person in disguise comes to your door with a proposition - trick or treat. By this act and your subsequent response, you both potentially benefit. You're forewarned about the consequences for failing to cooperate, thereby increasing the chances that you will make the prudent choice and protect your private property, and the little manipulator will almost certainly get candy. 

Notice the similarity between vampire bats and trick-or-treaters? Well, yes, I suppose they are both small creatures that come out after dark to suck the [blood, chocolate] from the helpless. But what I was really getting at is that food plays a central role in their acts. For bats, it is the means to an end: sharing their meals with members who failed to sufficiently feed themselves increases the survival of the whole colony by reducing the number of deaths. For Halloweeners, food itself is the goal: the collection of candies motivates these masked extortionists who use an undefined but understood threat of mischief to enforce sharing by those holding the desired objects.

An offering of food, whether for survival (bats) or other reasons like blackmail (trick-or-treaters), is always welcome because of its high intrinsic value as a basic necessity of life. So it's an ideal exchange tool, particularly when the giver and receiver are not well-acquainted. Case in point: every Christmas, my husband receives gifts ranging from tins of popcorn to fruit baskets from companies who want to maintain or establish new business with him. They know nothing personal about him but are rightly confident that a gift of food will not be rejected and that its acceptance paves the way to a stronger (business) relationship. Among our own circles of family and friends, in which relations are cemented by more intimate ties, edible gifts can hold extra value as expressions of love and affection. 

I don't know if vampire bats are aware of success in their strategy but I know my aims in the Halloween ritual of reciprocity have been achieved if the neighbors' kids are on their way to tooth decay, my trees are not decorated with Charmin and, if I planned well, there are 4 bags of mini KitKat and Twix bars left. Reciprocal altruism: a win-win situation for all.

What's On Rice

What happens when a corn-fed boy from the Midwest meets a rice-raised girl from the Far East? The boy falls in love with the girl and her rice, and they live happily ever after.

The best thing about marrying someone who didn't grow up eating rice at every meal is that it makes you see and taste it with a new perspective. My family always ate Thai jasmine or Milagrosa and to this day, my parents will accept nothing else. When I once made Basmati for my mother, she looked as if I'd stabbed her in the heart. But my husband isn't tethered to a particular variety - it's all new and wonderful to him. So he's inspired me to reach out to the thousands of varieties of rice in the world today. I'm only up to six - Thai jasmine, white Basmati, short-sticky, long-sticky, 'forbidden' black, and wild rice (technically a grass seed) - but it's a start.

I hope to make "What's On Rice" a regular part of my blog, featuring recipes that are best served with this marvelous grain. In honor of my Filipina background, here's my first:

Manok sa Gata at Sili (Chicken in Spicy Coconut Sauce)

Also known as Ginataang Manok, this recipe is adapted from Signature Dishes of the Philippines by Sony Robles-Florendo.

Serves 2

Recommended rice: Thai jasmine

3-4 pieces boneless, skinless chicken thighs, cut into strips or cubes

1 Tbsp crushed ginger

1 Tbsp crushed garlic

1 Tbsp fresh ginger, julienned

1 small onion, sliced very thin

1 can coconut milk

1 Tbsp fish sauce (patis)

1/4 tsp crushed red pepper

1/2 each red and green bell peppers, sliced into strips

1 stalk lemongrass, chopped or 1/2 tsp dried

Coarse ground salt

1. Wash and pat dry chicken thighs; rub with crushed garlic, crushed ginger and patis. Let stand in refrigerator for about an hour.

2. Heat 1-2 Tbsp of canola oil in a wok or large sauté pan at medium-high heat. Sauté onions and julienned ginger until soft and fragrant. Do not let it get too browned.

3. Add chicken and cook on med-high to high heat until thoroughly done and meat is nicely browned. Add lemongrass and crushed red pepper and stir-fry for 1 minute.

4. Add coconut milk and bell peppers and gently simmer, covered, on low-med heat for about 10 minutes. If you prefer a thicker consistency, simmer uncovered to reduce coconut milk.

5. Salt to taste and serve over steamed rice.

Why Am I So Tangled?

How deeply do you contemplate food? I never used to give it extra thought beyond  a statement ("I'm hungry."), a question ("What can I eat?") and an exclamation ("Yum!"). Those were the carefree days before we knew the difference between BMI and BMW, and eating local meant ordering from the Chinese restaurant around the corner. Back then, it never crossed my mind that certain foods gave me a sense of identity or that other people might judge my social status by what I ate. And I never gave a second thought to the ecological cost of a hamburger and fries.

Such blissful ignorance is nearly impossible today. Turn on the news and listen to the debate over the use of food for fuel, the growing obesity pandemic, and chemically-tainted baby formula. Glance at the cover of a woman's magazine and read excited headlines promising fail-safe diet strategies. Look at your grocery bill and try to remember if a gallon of milk and a dozen eggs were always this expensive.

What's the message?

I've absorbed so much of this that my relationship with food is now defined by a tangle of neuroses. I count calories, pinch pennies and fret over my part in damaging the global ecosystem. It almost certainly disqualifies me from being considered a true epicure. After all, how can I fully appreciate the taste of finely-marbled Wagyu beef when I'm worried about my waistline, wallet, and the waste of fossil fuels? How many bona fide foodies measure their breakfast yogurt every morning and weigh each meal against caloric and fiscal budgets?

My food scale = a breakfast of conscience

I want to love food the way a dedicated gourmet does - free of guilt, restraint and over-analysis. Perhaps this is the reason for my fascination with the ephemeral qualities of food - the memories, emotions, motivations and implications. By understanding these connections, maybe I can finally untangle myself.

The Why of Chow

Forget about the meaning of life - I'm trying to figure out the meaning of food.

There are so many gourmets out there with more refined palates and superior cooking skills than me. Although I love fine food, I can sometimes be an indiscriminate eater - a Tombstone Supreme frozen pizza takes its place alongside Vera Pizza Napoletana-certified pies as a favorite. I enjoy cooking but have just enough competence to ensure that my husband doesn't suffer from malnutrition.

But what I lack in gastronomic credentials, I more than make up with philosophic curiosity. Basically, I want to know "Why?" Why do we eat what we eat? Why do we eat in certain ways? And what do we feel, think, remember, intend when we eat?

We often think of food only as it pertains to the physical body, like its role in nutrition and its effect on the five senses. Yet food is more than just a basic necessity to keep our bodies functioning and to stimulate our senses. It encompasses economic, political, cultural, social and emotional realms. It can be used as a currency to reward, a tool to indoctrinate, a weapon to control and a measure to show love and affection. It is a memory box and an identity card. In short, food is so much more than just ingredients, techniques and presentation.

With so many questions that are well beyond my own scope of knowledge, I hope you will add your wisdom and experiences so that the sum of our thoughts and opinions might begin to formulate some answers.