Post-Thanksgiving Reflections

Ready for the table . . .

The bird is now bones, the cranberry has been relished, and I'm stuffed. It's the morning after Thanksgiving and I'm still digesting yesterday's bounty of turkey, trimmings and wine. Perhaps it's the inevitable crash after the carbohydrate high or  maybe it's the tryptophan reacting with the ethanol but I find myself in a funky mood after I woke up thinking, "Is that it?" 

For all my sunshine and smiley-face sermonizing about family traditions and joyful commensality, the foremost memory of the past day's events was my feast of over-indulgence. It didn't help that a few weeks prior, one of the readings for my Anthropology of Material Culture class (the same course that inspired my "Vampire Bats and Halloween Candy" post) focused on debunking Thanksgiving.

. . . headed for the soup pot.

The essay, "Haunted by the Pilgrims" (in The Art and Mystery of Historical Archaeology), basically argued that the genesis of the Thanksgiving holiday that we all know and love is as much myth as fact. According to author and historian James Baker, the Pilgrim Story developed from the collective history of early American colonists who ranged from English Puritans in Plymouth, MA (ostensibly the location of the first Thanksgiving) to French Huguenots in Florida. The lore as we know it today helped formulate a symbol of communal American values with which all citizens could identify and emulate. Wrote Baker:

"[It was assumed that] the Pilgrim Story, like the American way of life, contained a message relevant to the lives of people throughout the world." 

As a result, Thanksgiving, and the food associated with it, played an important role in assimilating immigrant families who could affirm their new identities by participating in the most American of holidays. Noted Donna Gabaccia, in her book We Are What We Eat: Ethnic Food and the Making of America,

"No other eating event so symbolized the changing eating habits in ethnic enclaves as an immigrant family's first Thanksgiving celebration . . . [a] partial success story of culinary Americanization, since many immigrant mothers prepared the feast when children requested it after studying the Pilgrims in school."

I remember how my mother, an accomplished cook, struggled to produce a moist turkey from her oven but never quite succeeded. Still, she tried year after year, perhaps believing that without this iconic centerpiece of the holiday table, it wouldn't be a true Thanksgiving. Maybe it was the subconscious memory of her annual frustration that led me to order a pre-made turkey for my own celebration. Coupled with a bloated belly, my holiday retrospective was dim: was I simply a willing, gluttonous participant in an indoctrinal mythology of Americana?

Then, I came across a post-Thanksgiving article, "In Lean Times, Comfort in a Bountiful Meal"   on the New York Times website (www.nytimes.com). In essence, it discussed how Americans, despite these difficult economic times, are determined to enjoy a plentiful and generous holiday meal as they have done in more prosperous years of the past. The article also described how people of varied ethnic backgrounds merge their adopted nation's celebration with aspects of their original cultures by adding foods of their birthplace to the traditional Thanksgiving menu. The story was a serendipitous answer to my sudden cynicism: in the current context, Thanksgiving as a national holiday comforts us with the knowledge that our families are joined by others throughout the country in times of celebration and hardship. And for immigrant families, it allows us to participate as Americans while honoring our distant yet equally important origins.

I reflected on the New York Times article and what I would write in this post throughout this day after Thanksgiving. Now, the night stars are beginning to appear and I've indulged myself again with copious leftovers. But the questions, doubts and cynicism have been allayed. Fact, myth, lore, or history - Thanksgiving is our story and we're sticking with it.

Lament for Lost Merienda

Merienda, n: (me-ryen-da) an afternoon snack or light meal

An interlude.

Sweet. Fleeting. Satisfying.

Afternoon assignations filled with delights

Day after day, as the seasons changed.

Winter chills kept at bay with hot chocolate and biscuits,

Summer swelter held at length with cool Italian soda and biscotti.

How our happiness grew!

An addiction.

Unanticipated. Unyielding. Unmerciful.

My need for you soon went beyond the midday

And I had to have you in the morning, too.

No longer sated by one cup, one treat:

Tall became Grande became Venti. Small became Large.

How my waistline grew!

A doubt.

Tiny. Persistent. Insidious.

I would reach a high in your presence

Only to crash down when I returned to my desk.

Oh, cruel fate! Could it be that you were no good for me?

My answer came as lethargy, moodiness, cellulite.

How my despair grew!

A break.

Sadness. Regret. Hunger.

Like an illicit lover, shamed by morning's light, I fled

But it was barely noticed as others ravenously took my place.

So I, too, found another when I gave myself to Mini-meals.

Six times a day. Three hundred calories each.

How my energy grew!

An understanding.

Realization. Acceptance. Reunion.

From coffee cup to water bottle, from candy bar to energy bar,

I traded your hedonistic pleasure for pious nutrition.

I am fit. I am healthy. I am starving for your sweet succor. 

But who says we must stay apart? Can't we all get along?

How my hope grows!

My lost merienda - will you please be my 3 o'clock mini-meal?

This Little Pilgrim Went to Market . . .

. . . Whole Foods Market, that is, and she ordered a complete, ready-made Thanksgiving dinner. Then this little pilgrim went "Wheeeee!" all the way home, certain that next week will be relaxing and stress-free.

Who am I kidding? I'm a nervous wreck over this decision. What self-respecting, aspiring gourmet would relinquish the greatest opportunity of the year to display her culinary skills? What would my fellow food bloggers say about my kitchen cop-out? More importantly, what would my mother-in-law think? 

Outsourcing our nation's most hallowed feast actually makes a lot of sense - it saves time, energy and the pressure of creating a perfect holiday meal. The expectations on a cook to produce a feast worthy of day-long grazing are enormous. From a juicy, tender turkey with savory stuffing to fluffy mashed potatoes and delectable pies (and all the glorious regional varieties in between), no other holiday is as food-centered as Thanksgiving. So if this day were solely about the edible, then who could possibly object to a tasty meal, regardless of who prepared it? But no matter how I rationalize it, the decision to buy rather than cook our holiday dinner has me trussed up tighter than a Butterball.

Quite simply, a Thanksgiving meal represents more than just good eating - it's also about family traditions and personal bonding. We will undoubtedly enjoy a delicious meal but at what cost?

It's particularly special to my husband's parents when most of their family can be together in one place. For years, they've hosted Thanksgiving at their home where the traditional scenario has been the guys going off to do guy stuff while the womenfolk head to the kitchen. Archaic gender roles notwithstanding, preparing Thanksgiving dinner has been a time for me, my sisters- and mother-in-law to talk, laugh and cook. Since it's my mother-in-law's kitchen, we follow her lead but we've also brought our own ideas and suggestions for dishes and cooking techniques. These moments of exchange - of recipes, anecdotes, advice and worries - reinforce the bonds that will hold us together when we each return to our respective, distant homes. 

I wish!

Photograph by Dylan Cross for The Wall Street Journal, Sunny Nam (food styling)

This year, the reins of tradition have been passed to my household but I fear my hands and my skills are too small to handle them. So I opted not to make Thanksgiving dinner from scratch. When I made that decision, my in-laws didn't have a say and thoughts about the possible repercussions came later. Have I arbitrarily taken away an important part of their Thanksgiving ritual? Does handing over an integral element of a family holiday to strangers strip it of deep and personal meaning? From the day I filled out the order form, doubts have been gnawing at me like Henry VIII on a turkey drumstick.

The bonds we feel while we eat are also formed and reaffirmed in the process of creating that meal. The preparation and consumption of food reflect the lessons of Thanksgiving - that cooperation and commensality are the keys to the health, happiness and harmony of family and community. For my mother-in-law, it's an increasingly rare opportunity to guide her adult daughters and share her kitchen expertise. I don't want to deprive her of that experience but I also don't want her to see me freak out if the turkey comes out of the oven tasting like 12lbs of beautifully seasoned sawdust.

What to do? Despite my angst, I haven't changed my mind about the Whole Foods order but after discussing it with my in-laws (who, to my great relief, were quite supportive), we agreed there was room on the table for a few homemade dishes. So we'll still bond over spatulas and skillets in the kitchen and then we'll continue bonding over a bottle of Beaujolais Nouveau as we put up our feet and relax by the fireplace. 

If I am demolishing some family traditions then we'll simply have to start new ones. Remember the men? My sister-in-law LouAnn and I have decided that they'll be in charge of making a side dish of grilled winter vegetable. What could be better than a little male bonding over a hot Weber grill on a cold November day?

Now, this little pilgrim is buckling her shoes and straightening her bonnet. It's going to be a delicious Thanksgiving.

Creamy Cranberry Horseradish Sauce

Forget the gravy. Ditch the canned cranberry. The sweet, tangy, piquant flavor of this sauce is wonderful on Thanksgiving turkey and even better on day-after-Thanksgiving turkey sandwiches! A must-have for our holiday table, this recipe is courtesy of my mother-in-law.

2 cups fresh cranberries

1 small onion

3/4 cup sour cream

1/2 cup sugar

2 Tbs prepared horseradish

1/2 tsp salt

In a blender or food processor, coarsely chop the cranberries and onions.

Transfer to a small bowl and add remaining ingredients. Mix by hand until blended. Refrigerate for at least 20 minutes before serving. 

What's On Rice: Greek-style Shrimp and Feta

A comment left by Indochine Kitchen on "Identity Bites, Part II" made me think about how a society's food and foodways serve not only to reinforce identity and existing group bonds but also help to project that identity to others and help create new bonds with outside groups.

I can count on one hand the number of countries to which I have traveled in my lifetime and that includes both my birthplace and current home. For those of us who enjoy the cuisines of places we have yet to visit, food allows us to travel on a dinner plate and opens a gateway to learning about those new cultures. Whether consumed at a restaurant or prepared at home, national cuisines can tell us so much about another society from a distance. For example, the absence of some ingredients such as certain meats may reflect dietary restrictions of a dominant religion while the abundance of other ingredients such as seafood and cheese may point out a country's geographic locale or its natural resources. We may even learn about social attitudes from the way others eat: in some cultures, women and men take their meals separately and in others, interfamily hierarchy determines who is served first at the table. 

Because food is the focus of my studies, I have a tendency to overthink my eating habits and food preferences and must remind myself that eating ethnic cuisine is sometimes simply about consuming delicious food. Still, the next time you sit down to enjoy a dish from a culture different from your own, savor a bite then ask yourself if your food is trying to telling you something.

Shrimp and Feta in a Tomato Basil Sauce

I first had Greek food at an Orthodox Greek Church festival in Raleigh, NC where, not surprisingly, I zeroed in on desserts like baklava, galaktoboureko, and loukomades. When I managed to wean myself from the sweet stuff, I knew that the rest of the cuisine had to be equally addictive. This dish features two of my favorite and quintessentially Greek ingredients. Once again, the recipe is my own only in the sense that I threw it together without following someone else's directions. After some Google research, I believe this is similar to garides saganaki, a baked shrimp and feta dish. To learn more about the signature ingredients of Greek cuisine, check out the blog History of Greek Food.

Serves 2-4

Recommended rice: Basmati

1 lb raw shrimp, peeled and deveined

2 cups fresh tomatoes, diced or 1 (14.5 oz) can diced tomatoes

2-3 cloves garlic, minced

2 Tbs olive oil

1-2 tsps dried oregano

1-2 tsps dried basil or 1/4 cup fresh basil, chiffonade

1/2 cup dry white wine such as Pinot Grigio

1/4 - 1/2 tsp crushed red pepper

Salt to taste

Feta cheese, crumbled

1.  Heat olive oil in a large skillet or sauté pan over medium-high heat.

2.  Add garlic and saute until fragrant, being careful not to brown.

3.  Add fresh or canned tomatoes and dried herbs (if using fresh basil, wait until just before serving). Bring to a gentle simmer.

4.  Add white wine and continue to simmer on med-low heat, covered, until tomatoes are broken down.

5.  Add shrimp and crushed red pepper. Allow to simmer gently until shrimp is opaque and cooked through, about 8-10 minutes. Add basil if using fresh and salt to taste.

6.  Turn off heat and spoon over freshly steamed Basmati rice. Sprinkle with Feta cheese, allowing residual heat to melt/soften it then serve.

Identity Bites, Part II: Empanadobos

This is the (rather tardy) second part in a series about food and ethnic identity, from a Filipina-American's perspective. Read Part I here.

(Photo by Chazzvid on Flickr)

Ready for a lechon feast

When my younger sister Penelope was married a couple of years ago, the centerpiece of her wedding reception feast was lechon (a whole, roast suckling pig). She later said that she specifically chose this dish because no matter how Americanized our family had become, Filipino food such as lechon would always define celebrations. Our older sister Liza agreed: she also equates Pinoy fare with festivity, fun and informality. She admitted that she doesn't normally crave Filipino dishes and rarely cooks it for her husband and children. Nevertheless, she insists on having pancit (noodles) on her birthday because it's both a family and a cultural tradition. For her and Penelope, native food has less to do with identity and more to do with celebration and commensality. I shared their thoughts with Dr. Donna Gabaccia, director of the Immigration History Research Center at the University of Minnesota and the author of We Are What We Eat: Ethnic Food and the Making of Americans. 

"If you look at immigrant families in the US who have been here for quite some time, you do find a kind of relocation of ethnicity," she said, explaining that subsequent generations have a selection process by which certain dishes are no longer consumed daily and instead become celebratory meals representing special family events. 

At times, those 'special' kindred memories evoked by certain foods are not always about fun and festivity. My cousin, Bernadette, recalled how her late grandmother kicked her out of the kitchen in exasperation shortly after starting to teach her how to cook Filipino food. Her transgression? "Apparently, I wasn't slicing the meat and vegetables properly," she said. Her sister, Marie, told me how she was put off adobo for life. "Every summer when we would go on vacation, my mom or grandma would make a HUGE pot of it and we would eat it for, like, a week. I got sick of it really quick." But then she added, "Now that I am married and have my own household, I don't get to eat at my mom's so much, so when she makes a Filipino dish, it's special for me."

As I listened to my sisters' and cousins' stories, I shared their connection between eating Filipino food and a feeling of closeness to family. But I didn't hear them express the same sense of lost identity that I experience whenever I've gone too long without tasting the flavors of Pinoy cuisine. As it turns out, thinking about who you are may depend on where your are.

Filipino fast-food at a California suburban mall

(Photo by kerol on Flickr)

My sisters live in the Los Angeles area, which has an estimated 300,000 residents of Filipino descent and where all things Pinoy, especially food, are readily available. My cousins were raised in Connecticut but they visited the Philippines often and having both lolas living with them ensured a steady flow of Filipino meals from the kitchen. More importantly, they all live close by and see each other regularly. As a result, explained Dr. Gabaccia, "They don't stop to think about [identity] because they're not separated from it. They don't necessarily think of [food as being Filipino] because they're not taken out of it. It's around them."

In short, my relatives are secure in their Pinay identities because they constantly see themselves reflected in similar faces and live in surroundings that offer access to familiar cultural items. Unfortunately for me, there are less than 10,000 Filipinos in the entire state of Minnesota and only one Pinoy store in the whole Twin Cities metro area. If identity really is reinforced - or diluted - by one's surroundings, I can certainly vouch for it. And so can Mike, younger brother of Bernadette and Marie, who found out firsthand that when it comes to Filipino food, absence can make the stomach growl louder.

To be continued . . . 

Empanadobos

Empanadas (meat pies) filled with chicken adobo - a combination so delicious that even Marie might be tempted. The buttery sweetness of puff pastry complements the tanginess of the adobo. This recipe has an easy shortcut for when I need a quick 'identity bite'.

Yields approx. 18 (4-inch) pies

To prepare chicken adobo:

2 Tbsps cooking oil

1 lb boneless breasts or thighs, sliced into strips

2 cloves of garlic, minced 

1 small onion, chopped fine

1/2 tsp black pepper

1/4 cup cider vinegar*

1/4 cup soy sauce*

2-3 bay leaves

*This recipe calls for equal amounts of vinegar and soy sauce but it's easily adjusted depending on your personal preference. I like my adobo with a more vinegar-y bite so I use an approximate ratio of 1.5 : 1 (vinegar : soy sauce). 

1.  Heat oil in a sauté pan or small pot on medium heat. Add  garlic and onions, and sauté until soft.

2.  Add chicken strips and cook just until lightly browned.

3.  Add pepper, vinegar, soy sauce and bay leaves, and bring to a gentle simmer.

4.  Cover and continue simmering on low heat, stirring occasionally, until liquid is reduced and meat is fully cooked and tender. If chicken is too dry, add a bit of water to moisten.

5.  Turn off heat and shred chicken in the pot or transfer to cutting board to shred finely.

Shortcut:  Use a roasted chicken from your favorite grocery deli! Remove meat from bones and discard the skin, then cut into small bite sized pieces. Throw all ingredients together into a pot or pan and follow steps 4-5.

To prepare the empanadas:

1 pkg (2 sheets) puff pastry, thawed

flour

water

2 egg whites

Biscuit or round cookie cutter, drinking glass or anything that will cut 3.5" to 4" diameter rounds in the dough

Preheat oven to 375°

1.  Lay out thawed pastry on a lightly floured surface; sprinkle 1 tsp of flour on top and with a rolling pin, flatten and stretch out the dough a little bit. 

2.  Cut out rounds from the dough and place on a cookie sheet lined with parchment paper or a Silpat.

3.  Spoon about 1 Tbsp of shredded adobo onto center of a dough round. Lightly moisten edges with water and fold in half.

4.  Firmly press edges closed with a fork then brush the top with egg white.

5.  Bake for 15-18 minutes or until pastry is golden. Serve warm. 

Save the Bake Sale!

Proving that the Law of Unintended Consequences  is alive and well, I came across this story in the New York Times online:

November 10, 2008

Bake Sales Fall Victim to Push for Healthier Foods

By PATRICIA LEIGH BROWN

PIEDMONT, Calif. — Tommy Cornelius and the other members of the Piedmont High School boys water polo team never expected to find themselves running through school in their Speedos to promote a bake sale across the street. But times have been tough since the school banned homemade brownies and cupcakes.

The old-fashioned school bake sale, once as American as apple pie, is fast becoming obsolete in California, a result of strict new state nutrition standards for public schools that regulate the types of food that can be sold to students. The guidelines were passed by lawmakers in 2005 and took effect in July 2007. They require that snacks sold during the school day contain no more than 35 percent sugar by weight and derive no more than 35 percent of their calories from fat and no more than 10 percent of their calories from saturated fat.

The Piedmont High water polo team falls woefully short of these standards, selling cupcakes, caramel apples and lemon bars off campus in a flagrant act of nutritional disobedience.

(Read the full article at NYTimes.com)

I know, I know - last week, I was cheering English chef Jamie Oliver's call for the UK government to mandate cooking classes in public schools and now, I'm jeering the state of California for its attempt to solve the rising rates of obesity in schoolchildren. I completely agree that teaching kids the fundamentals of nutrition and limiting their daily exposure to junk food in school will help them make better, healthier food choices now and in the future. However, this article illustrates that even the best intentions go awry. It's one thing to ban sodas and potato chips, which tempt schoolkids day after day, but quite another to discourage the occasional fund-raising bake sale. 

As the article points out, non-food items can be offered but when was the last time you eagerly tore into a pack of holiday wrapping paper with matching bows that you'd forgotten you even ordered from your co-worker's kid? Besides, I would much rather buy a homemade Rice Krispies treat, knowing that the money goes straight to the cause rather than a for-profit company that provides mass-produced merchandise for a cut of the proceeds. And consider this: baking those cookies, brownies, and cakes on behalf of a club or team just might be the spark that ignites a young student's interest in cookery. 

There's no such thing as bad food when food choices are made with balance and moderation in mind. So before we start regulating those choices, let's try educating first.

Cups 'n' Chips Cookies

This is a great bake sale item - easy to make, quick to sell and yummy to eat! Recipe courtesy of my sister Mayella.

You'll need your favorite chocolate chip cookie recipe (or use this classic), 1 bag Reese's Miniature Peanut Butter Cups, refrigerated, and foil baking cups (if using paper, double the cups).

To make:

1. Prepare chocolate chip cookie recipe as directed.
2. Line muffin tin with foil baking cups and fill with cookie dough, about half full.
3. Bake according to recipe directions.
4. While cookies are baking, unwrap as many Reese's PB cups as needed and keep cool until needed.
5. When cookies are done, remove from oven and IMMEDIATELY press one PB cup in the center until the top is even with the cookie. Repeat with the rest while the cookies are still soft and warm.
6. Allow cookies to cool completely - the heat will soften the PB cups so don't stack them too soon! You can keep the cookies in the baking cups or remove before serving.

What's On Rice: Spiced Lamb and Black-Eyed Peas

I remember my very first taste of Indian food during the summer of 1995 when a co-worker took me to a small restaurant across the street from the North Carolina State University campus in Raleigh. It came thisclose to being the last time I had Indian food: the all-male waitstaff was so stern-faced, I was nearly too intimidated to order anything. Judging by our server's piercing gaze, enjoying our meal wasn't a wish but a direct imperative.  

Happily (and with great relief), the food was wonderful. From the crispy black-pepper papadum topped with spicy mint chutney to the velvety lamb korma to the savory biryani,  I was hooked.  The aromas and flavors of cardamom, cumin and yogurt were fascinatingly, deliciously unfamiliar to a palate more used to soy sauce, vinegar and garlic.  The dry, fluffy texture of Basmati was a pleasant contrast to the sticky softness of jasmine while the lamb introduced a new flavor dimension beyond the usual beef, chicken and pork. Until that meal, I actually believed that the entirety of Asian cuisine was composed of Filipino, Chinese and Japanese foods. No one in the history of eating has ever needed an atlas as badly as I did.

But my gustatory ignorance was not entirely my own fault. Like most people, my food preferences were shaped in childhood by what was served at the dinner table which in turn was influenced by family history, culture, and traditions. We often carry these food habits into adulthood because they keep us connected to home. It's no wonder some dishes are called 'comfort food' - they evoke treasured memories of love and nurturing. We may also stick to familiar foods for a more primal, instinctive reason: there's no risk of eating something unknown and potentially nauseating. But you know what they say - no risk, no reward. Taking that first bite out of my comfort food zone opened an entire world of culinary delights that I continue to explore and enjoy.

For years, I've been too intimidated to try my hand at South Asian cooking because the complex mix of spices necessary for its unique flavors seems beyond my skills (and I also have an irrational fear that the scary staff at the Raleigh restaurant will find out if I screw up). However, ready-mixed masalas and several years (and pounds) of eating Indian food under my belt have emboldened me to at least try Indian-inspired cooking. I call the following dish 'original' insofar as I didn't work off another recipe; however, given my still-limited knowledge of Indian cookery, I don't doubt that a form of this already exists. 

Spiced Lamb and Black Eyed Peas

Serves 2-4

Recommended rice: Basmati

1 medium onion, diced

1/2 tsp crushed garlic (garlic paste)

1/2 tsp crushed ginger (ginger paste)

1 Tbsp ghee

6 oz ground lamb

1 (15 oz) can black-eyed peas, drained and rinsed

1 (14.5 oz) can diced tomatoes

1 - 2 tsps crushed red pepper flakes
1 tsp cumin
1 - 2 tsps curry powder
1/2 tsp salt or to taste
1 - 1 1/2 tsps garam masala

Note: Feel free to adjust the amounts for red pepper, cumin, curry powder and garam masala to desired taste.

1.  Heat ghee in a large sauté pan on medium heat; add chopped onions and sauté until soft.

2.  Add garlic and ginger pastes; sauté for 1-2 minutes.

3.  Add lamb and cook until well-browned.

4.  Add diced tomatoes and black-eyed peas, followed by red pepper flakes, cumin, curry powder and salt to taste.

5.  Bring to a gentle simmer, cover and allow to continue light simmer for 5-8 minutes or until tomatoes have broken down. 

6.  Add garam masala and mix in well, a few minutes before turning off heat. Let stand for about 5 minutes before serving.

7.  Serve over Basmati rice with yoghurt if you've opted for an even spicier flavor.

Kudos to Jamie Oliver

Chef Jamie Oliver
(Photo credit: Scandic Hotels/Flickr)**

Chef Jamie Oliver, who used his celebrity status to focus attention on the nutritional quality (or lack thereof) in British school meals, has now expanded the scope of his campaign to encourage healthier eating on all levels. Addressing a parliamentary health committee yesterday, Oliver warned that the rate of obesity in the UK will continue to rise, due in large part to the lack of simple cookery skills for making nutritious meals at home. As a result, people increasingly are turning to fast food for their dietary needs.

"[T]his is the first time in British history where you haven't got most of the population able to cook and you can statistically see where people are spending their money now and fast food options are up," he said.

Among his proposed solutions, Oliver wants to see cooking classes added to the regular primary school curriculum and the appointment of a 'Food Minister' to oversee public policy. (Read the full articles at Reuters UKand the Scotsman.)

I say, "Bravo, Jamie!" Developing cooking skills is like making soup - starting with a basic stock and adding ingredients as you like, you may end up with a simple noodle broth or a more complex bouillabaisse. Likewise, a young child who learns how to cook at an early age may grow up to become the next celebrity chef or, at least, will know how to prepare spaghetti alia e olio instead of ordering takeout. The important thing is that he or she will have the fundamentals of cookery on which to build more skills and knowledge throughout their lives.

Elementary school children have classes in art, physical education and music but home economics (do they still call it that?) are sadly lacking. I didn't have a home econ class until junior high and that was bundled with sewing, woodworking and auto mechanics. Fortunately, a lot of what I now know, I learned at home from my mother and our housekeeper, Teresita. This kind of learning is all but disappearing in Britain, according to Oliver, because more women are working outside of the home and are not passing down the culinary skill they may have learned from their own mothers. 

If I have a critique of Oliver's words, this is it. Aside from his constant use of 'girls' to refer to adult women, his testimony assumes that the transfer of cooking knowledge is solely a matrilineal process, passed down from mother to daughter. By extension, his assessment that the widespread lack of these skills in young people is an underlying factor of unhealthy eating inadvertently indicts women who choose to enter the workforce. In justifying his call for publicly-funded cooking programs, Oliver basically says the government must step in where many women are no longer found - in the kitchen. As traditional gender roles continue to be re-written and re-interpreted, this view has become archaic and unfair. The popularity of cooking shows, books and blogs among men shows that a love of culinary arts is gender neutral (Oliver himself was introduced to cookery in his father's pub-restaurant). Hopefully, the notion that handing down such skills and interests is a woman's thing will be relegated to history.

The increasing rates of obesity around the globe can be attributed to myriad causes, not the least of which is the ubiquity of fast food, but I think Oliver has hit on one aspect that is overlooked among the calls to ban trans-fats or to restrict the opening of fast food restaurants in inner-city neighborhoods. Ultimately, our health depends on our choices so the more knowledge we have, the more informed - and hopefully, the more healthy - those decisions will be. Notwithstanding my nitpicking over his choice of words, I agree with the Naked Chef that our children should be taught the fundamentals of nutrition just as they are taught writing and mathematics, whether it is at school or at home. So to all classically-trained chefs, humble home cooks, and every manner of fervent foodies, I implore, "Cook, eat, and teach!"

**Updated 3/15/2012: In the original post published on 11/6/08, I used a photograph of Chef Jamie Oliver which I credited to the source but did not actually have permission from the photographer to use. The new photo that replaces it above is used under a Creative Commons license.

Identity Bites, Part I: Lumpia

This is the first in a series about food and ethnic identity, from a Filipina-American's perspective. Read Part II and Part III, too!

I think of identity as an egg roll - a savory mix of ingredients held together by a delicate wrapper to form a unique entity. In my case, that wrapper is my Filipina heritage (which would make me a lumpia roll) and it envelopes a lifetime of experiences straddling two cultures. But when it's stretched thin, my identity is in danger of falling apart.

I was born in the Philippines but grew up in Canada and the US, and during my childhood, the only faces which reflected my own ethnicity were those of my family and a few friends. My parents were determined to instill in me and my sisters a deep pride in our culture, so they spoke to us in Tagalog, served Filipino dishes and celebrated holidays with a Pinoy touch. I remember the electric parol Papa special-ordered from the Philippines, which he proudly displayed every Christmas in the front window of our house in Virginia. I also recall that at the time, I was a snotty, self-absorbed teen and what today is a cherished memory of a beautiful Filipino craft was back then a gargantuanly garish beacon that blared "Strange Asian People Live Here!"

What I wouldn't give for that lantern now. For the past 15 years, I've lived in places where Asians of any ethnicity are so scarce that in some areas, we're still referred to as 'Orientals'. Far from my family and the customs and traditions that reinforced my connection to a distant birthplace, I sometimes feel as if the 'Filipina' in this Filipina-American is fading. I can't even speak Tagalog anymore, except for a few random words related to food and eating. But that's exactly where I've found the answer to my melancholy state: when I eat Filipino food, I feel more like a Filipina.

Now, my husband and I make annual visits to my sisters in Southern California where the large Filipino-American population offers countless opportunity for consuming à la Pinay. And what glorious food - adobos, ginataans, sinigangs, oh my! Pancit here and puto there before finishing with flan-topped halo-halo. I eat my fill and then I eat some more, stuffing myself with memories to keep me sated until the next visit. When we return home to Minnesota, I feel different (okay, 10 lbs heavier is different but it's not what I mean). It's as if the equilibrium between the two cultures that I love has been restored and I am again comfortable with myself as a Filipina and an American.

How did this connection between food and identity develop? Why is it so powerful, at least for me? I wanted to know if others feel the same affinity so I decided to conduct a thoroughly unscientific, not-so-random survey of a very small sample of Fil-Ams (relatives who are obligated by family honor to humor me) and ask them about their thoughts on food and identity. I then shared their responses with two eminent scholars of food and immigration history at the University of Minnesota for their assessment. Survey said . . . 

. . . to be continued.

Mama's Lumpia

This recipe is courtesy of my mother, the formidable Mrs. Myrna V., whose exacting standards in the kitchen are infamous in our family. Yes, Mama, I'm using enough shrimps. No, Mama, I won't overdo the garlic . . .

Makes 6-9 rolls

Never wrapped a lumpia before? Check out my slideshow tutorial below for tips!

Filling:

1-2 cloves garlic, minced

1/3 cup onion, finely chopped

8 raw shrimp, peeled and finely chopped

1/3 cup carrots, shredded or julienned 

1/3 cup bean sprouts (mongo), washed and roots pinched off

1 cup cabbage, chopped thinly as for cole slaw 

salt and pepper to taste

optional: 1/2 tsp patis (fish sauce)

To wrap:

4 fresh green beans, thinly sliced on the diagonal

fresh cilantro

lumpia crepe wrappers (for best results, look for 'lumpia' on the package; Simex brand also offers pre-separated wrappers - great time-savers!)

Water

Dipping sauce:

1/4 cup white vinegar 

1 - 1 1/2 tsps crushed garlic

1/4 tsp crushed red pepper (or to taste)

salt to taste

To prepare filling:

1. Heat 1-2 Tbps of oil in a wok or sauté pan and add garlic and onions. Cook just until soft, taking care not to overly brown the garlic.

2. Add finely chopped shrimp and stir fry until opaque.

3. Add carrots, bean sprouts, and cabbage and stir fry until vegetables are just cooked but still firm.

4. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Use patis for a slightly more pungent flavor. Soy sauce may be used but is not recommended as it turns the filling a brownish color.

5. Using a slotted spoon, transfer cooked filling to a shallow plate to cool. Drain the juices from the filling as much as possible - excess moisture is a lumpia wrapper's worst enemy!

To wrap lumpia:

1. Lay out wrapper/crepe and place 1 - 1 1/2 Tbsps of filling on the bottom third, leaving about 1" on either side.

2. Top with sliced green beans and cilantro, then fold the bottom edge over the filling, tucking under firmly.

3. Fold over the side edges, making sure they are straight all the way up.

4. Gently but firmly, roll the lumpia all the way to the top. Moisten the top edge with water to seal the lumpia completely. It's important that the wrapper has no tears, holes or other openings as the lumpia could break apart during frying.

5. Repeat with remaining fillings. 

To fry:

1. In a large sauté or fry pan, heat enough oil to cover the lumpia halfway - about 1/2"; to test for readiness, dip a corner of the lumpia - if it sizzles, it's ready!

2. Arrange lumpia in the pan so that they are not crowded and fry until golden brown; turn over once until other side is also golden brown.

3. Remove from pan and place in a colander or plate lined with paper towels to absorb excess oil.

4. Serve with dipping sauce.

Best way to eat lumpia: bite off one end and spoon dipping sauce into opening. Enjoy!

Slideshow Tutorial: How to Wrap and Fry Lumpia!