Identity Bites, Part III: Sinigang na Isda

This is the third and final part in a series about food and ethnic identity, from a Filipina-American's perspective. Read Part I and Part II here.


My sisters and cousins didn't feel, as I did, that a part of their identity was missing because their Filipino sensibilities were constantly reinforced by close access to the trappings of our native culture, such as food. I felt quite alone in my identity crisis until I received an e-mail from my younger cousin, Mike.

"Basically, I went from having rice and Filipino foods at home on a daily basis to none at all," he wrote about his move to Raleigh, NC nearly two years ago. "The more that I was away from the dishes, the more I wanted them, even the ones I never really liked but ate because I had to."

Finally, someone who shared my feelings of deprivation! I described our mutual condition to Dr. Jeffrey Pilcher, professor of history at the University of Minnesota and author of Food in World History. "You're Filipino in some ways, in some circumstances, just like [Mike] who's been taken away from that community and in a sense is in exile from his family and food," he offered. "It suddenly becomes an obsession . . ."

Added Dr. Donna Gabaccia (We Are What We Eat: Ethnic Food and the Making of Americans), "When you take a person from their social network and put them in a different set of not just social networks but also market relationships that aren't delivering familiar ingredients, then the meaning of food will change under those circumstances."

Which is why Mike says he'd now gladly eat the dishes he once rejected: "The next time you see me and ask why I am eating sisig, it's because I definitely have a new appreciation for what I am eating."

Sizzlin' Sisig
(From Jo at Taking Over the World One Bite at a Time)

I learned this lesson myself a few years ago when I had a miraculous change of appetite regarding dinuguan, a pork stew made with (brace yourself) pig's blood. This was the one dish that I vowed I would never touch with a ten-foot spoon; my older sister Mayella is still traumatized by childhood memories of being served this meal. But a desperate craving for any Filipino food spurred me to drag my husband 90 miles from our then-home in Charlotte, NC to Columbia, SC and the only Pinoy restaurant I could find in the Carolinas. The restaurant, eponymously named Mang (Mister) Tomas, was a non-descript, dingy little diner in an equally non-descript, dingy little strip mall; it wasn't open that day but the owner spotted me peering hungrily through the windows and invited us in.

After listening to my woeful tale of hunger, Mang Tomas insisted that we take home a container of his special-recipe dinuguan - the absolute last dish I would have ordered off the menu. But after all my boo-hooing about how much I missed Filipino food , how could I turn him down? To my eternal gratitude, I accepted and it proved to be one of the most delicious meals I have ever eaten.

What was it that transformed Mang Tomas' dinuguan from a "Fear Factor" dish to an all-time favorite food? Perhaps the stories he told about his own family as he prepared our take-home bag added a flavor of shared nostalgia. Maybe it was the relief at satisfying the clamorous craving for Filipino food. Or perhaps I had the same epiphany as cousin Mike - that my days of dispossession strengthened my appreciation for all aspects of Pinoy culture, even the ones I thought I disliked.

When all is said and done, and I've dissected what Filipino food means to me and others - identity, memory, festivity or family - the most basic fact remains: napaka-sarap ang pagkain Pilipino! "The fact of the matter is that the food tastes good," said Dr. Gabaccia with a laugh. "It adds something to that social experience that you wouldn't have otherwise, which is 'pleasure of the mouth'."

This sensation even soothes concerns about the highly-caloric nature of some Filipino fare. "The taste is distinct - fatty but the best oily, heart-clogging food you could ever have," Mayella said, to which Liza added, "It awakens the tastebuds that I normally don't use from my day-to-day diet. I actually find it exciting to re-taste odd flavors like sinigang (sour soup), bagoong (fermented shrimp paste) or the fatty parts of pork."

The savoring of these flavors isn't limited to those of us who grew up with them - my solidly-Midwestern husband has developed a keen taste for Pinoy cuisine, especially dinuguan and sinigang. His enjoyment of these foods hasn't turned him into a Filipino but it does help him feel closer to my family by allowing him to participate in our cultural heritage. Seeing this, I realized that the act of eating Filipino food isn't an "on/off" switch for my identity - I don't become more or less of a Filipina depending on what I eat. It's simply one light that helps illuminate the whole of me.

So instead of pining and whining that there are no Filipino restaurants nearby, I'm learning to cook these dishes myself, with plenty of long-distance help from my mother in Manila (my phone calls and e-mails often begin with "Mama, how do you make . . .?"). Now, if I find my sense of self dimming a bit, I can simply step into my kitchen and make myself an identity bite to eat.

Sinigang na Isda (Sour Fish Soup)
My husband loves this soup's sourness, which comes from the use of tamarind. Although there are powdered soup mixes available at Asian groceries, they usually contain MSG and other preservatives, and are rather high in sodium. Instead, use tamarind paste which is often found in the Thai or Indian sections. This recipe is adapted from Mridula Baljekar's Best-Ever Curry Cookbook. For a similar soup that uses chicken, check out this recipe for Sinampalukang Manok (Chicken and Tamarind Soup) from josephqt and his blog Recados Filipinos!

Serves 4-6

Ingredients

1 - 2 Tbsps tamarind paste
2 tomatoes, seeded and chopped
4 oz spinach, bok choy or kangkong leaves, stems stripped and leaves torn or sliced into strips
5 cups prepared fish stock (I use Penzey's Seafood Soup Base)
1/2 daikon radish (about 1/2 -2/3 cup), peeled and finely diced
3/4 cup green beans, cut into 1/2" lengths
1 lb cod or haddock fillet, skinned and cut into strips (or mix 1/2 lb of fish and 1/2 lb of shrimp, peeled and deveined)
salt and black pepper
fish sauce/patis (optional)
steamed rice

To prepare:

1) Pour prepared fish stock into a large pan and add finely diced daikon radish. Cook for 5 minutes then add chopped green beans. Bring to a gentle simmer and continue to stew for 3-5 minutes;
2) Add fish strips, tomatoes and leafy greens. Add tamarind paste and stir until dissolved. Cook for about 2 minutes. If using shrimps, add last.
3) Season the stew with salt and black pepper, and add fish sauce if desired.
4) Serve with steamed rice or enjoy on its own

Crunch Time: Sweetly Spiced Chipotle Almonds

Cooling down the spice

I have approximately 32 hours to finish my final research paper of the semester, for which I've written just two pages (for the curious, it's entitled "Taste and Class: Food and the Marking of Social Status"). At the same time, I'm studying for a final exam that I get to take a week earlier than the rest of my classmates. If I can just make it to noontime this Friday without losing my sanity, alienating my husband, and scaring the dog, the reward is two weeks of Christmas bliss in the Philippines. 

So much to write, so little time . . . 

Mr. Noodle and I have been planning this trip since March; it's my first trip back to the ancestral home in nearly 20 years and his first ever. We're both looking forward to leaving school, work and other worries behind in wintry Minnesota to enjoy a tropical, Filipino-style Christmas.

Until then, there's a lot left to do. During past Christmases, I've put up decorations, mailed dozens of greeting cards and gift packages, and made some goodies well in advance. This year, I find myself so short on time that I've managed to write just one card (to my 100 year old foster grandmother) and not a single garland or ornament adorns our home. But I am determined to accomplish at least one of my traditional Christmas tasks: making treats!

The adage "It's better to give than to receive" is so very true: I probably derive more enjoyment from making homemade gifts than the recipient may get from the end result. A column in last Sunday's Minneapolis Star-Tribune made a rather disparaging equation between stealing and crafting as last resorts for gift-giving, underscoring the fact that for some, homemade presents are not always the most desired and inferring a correlation between the monetary value of an item and the level of regard one has for the recipient. When I decide to create a gift, I try to keep in mind what would please the other person first and allow me to express my skills second. To that end, and given the limited time I have right now, I chose to make the following recipe as gifts for our neighbors. It's easy to make, incredibly versatile and, judging from past giftees' responses, irresistible!

Sweetly Spiced Chipotle Almonds

This recipe is adapted from one created by Chef Robin Schmitz of Johnson & Wales University in Charlotte, NC. The original recipe called for pecans and cayenne pepper but the beauty of this treat is its versatility: in addition to cayenne and chipotle, I've also used Cajun seasoning and would like to try ground Ancho chile pepper. Try your own combo of spicy and sweet!

Ingredients:

3 cups sugar

1/2 cup water

1.5 - 2 tsps** ground chipotle pepper 

pinch of salt

2.5 lbs whole almonds (preferably unsalted)

**This gives a nice bite to the almonds, appropriate for children or heat-sensitive palates; increase as desired for added kick!

To prepare:

1. Preheat oven to 325 degrees F. Line large baking sheet with parchment paper or Silpat.

2. In a large heavy sauté pan over medium heat, mix water, sugar, chipotle and salt together. Stir until mixture comes to a gentle simmer and sugar dissolves completely.

3. Add almonds and stir well so that all the nuts are covered with sugar mixture. Continue to stir constantly until water has completely evaporated and the nuts are well-coated.

4. Immediately transfer almonds to the baking sheet and toast in the oven for about 10 minutes. Watch carefully as the nuts can easily burn. Stir the almonds around to ensure that they cook evenly.

5. Remove from oven and cool completely before serving.

Crunch time at its best!

There's No Such Thing as "Free" . . .

(Photo credit: Roboppy/Flickr)**

Following the news that fundraising bake sales in California schools could soon be history due to well-meaning food legislation (read my post Save the Bake Sale!) comes this recent New York Times article proving that, once again, no good deed goes unpunished:

Health Halo Can Hide the Calories

(New York Times, 12/2/08)

"If you're a well-informed, health-conscious New Yorker who has put on some unwanted pounds in the past year, it might not be entirely your fault. Here's a possible alibi: The health halo made you do it . . . [Pierre Chandon] has been studying what researchers call the American obesity paradox. Why, as Americans have paid more and more attention to eating healthily, have we kept getting fatter and fatter?" (Read the full article here)

The Good . . . 

According to Dr. Chandon, a marketing professor at INSEAD in France, we've been fooled (or have fooled ourselves) into overeating because of a perception that certain foods and restaurants are 'healthy'. He and Dr. Brian Wansink, director of the Cornell University Food and Brand Lab, have conducted numerous studies showing how food marketing "imbues [food] with a health halo that magically subtracted calories" through such practices as fast food restaurants trumpeting 'healthier' french fries because they're not cooked in trans-fat oils. Believing that we are eating well, we feel free to chow down, as Dr. Wansink notes in his book, Mindless Eating: Why We Eat More Than We Think,

"The average Sub[way] diner thought he or she was eating 495 calories, but instead ate 677 - 34% more than he or she thought. [They] ate under the illusion that everything they touched was good for them . . . We want to say, 'Looks healthy to me,' so we can pile on the rest."

But it's not only advertisers and marketers who burnish this halo - our politicians also contribute to the effect when they pass well-intentioned legislation, such as banning the use of trans fats in New York city restaurants, that produce unanticipated results. 

. . . the Bad . . . 

The article calls it the 'health halo' but it is actually a perfect example of the "Peltzman Effect", named after Sam Peltzman, professor of economics at the University of Chicago Booth School of Business. His 1975 study on the effects of seatbelt laws on driver behavior argued that mandating safety features with the intention of protecting people unintentionally spurs them to engage in more risky behavior precisely because the regulations make them feel safer.

Just as we search for the one magic diet that works for everyone, we want to point the finger at a single cause for obesity and other dietary-related chronic illnesses. However, by focusing on a single culprit for America's ever-expanding waistline - whether it's saturated fat, carbohydrates, high fructose corn syrup or trans fats - and attempting to control its consumption through legislation, we ignore other factors such as portion control and physical activity. Lulled into thinking that the problem is solved, we blissfully take it as a license to eat at will. 

. . . and the Ugly Truth.

What it's really doing is pinning the tail on all the animals in the barn except the donkey: too many calories. High consumption of substances such as trans and saturated fats have been shown to increase the risks of coronary heart disease but even foods that are free of these ingredients can lead to weight gain if we don't watch the amount we eat. To this end, not all legislation and marketing have been completely off the mark - NYC's requirement that restaurants post nutritional information have made diners there more conscious (read the article "Calories Do Count" at nytimes.com) and those '100-calorie' packs of favorite treats such as Oreos cookies can help with portion control. 

Being aware of our balance of energy consumption and expenditure - how many calories we consume through food and how much we burn through regular body functions and physical exercise - is the primary key to maintaining a healthy weight. To find out what your daily calorie requirement is, check out the Mayo Clinic's Calorie Calculator. 

Don't be seduced by the '[insert ingredient here]- free' labels splashed across food packages or the television ads that bestow a mantle of health on fast food restaurants. Remember, there's no such thing as a 'free' lunch.

**Updated 3/15/2012: In the original post published on 12/5/2008, I used a photograph 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.

Sweet Treat, Rediscovered: Banana Turons

Classic Turon

Hmmmm . . . need to work on my chocolate drizzling.

It's said that when something has been lost, it takes fresh eyes to find it again. In the case of banana turons, it took fresh tastebuds. Shortly after I launched my blog, I received a welcoming comment from fellow blogger Shaved Ice Sundays who expressed a fondness for this Filipino fried banana snack that a friend had introduced to her. 

As I read her comment, I instantly recalled the delight of biting into the delicately crisp wrapper, glazed with caramelized brown sugar that oozed out of the sweet, almost custard-y banana center. That's when it dawned on me: I love turons, too! How could I have possibly forgotten?

Well, it's also said that familiarity breeds contempt or, in this case, indifference. Turons were a common childhood treat for me and when a food is so common and familiar, our tastebuds somehow become inured to its flavor, no matter how delicious. Gone is the novelty, the thrill of newness. It's the gastronomic shrug-off, as if to say, "Been there, tasted that". One way to recapture that lost sense of pleasure is to experience it through the enthusiasm of an unjaded palate. 

That's how I felt about banana turons so when another person expressed such enjoyment from a snack long relegated to obscurity in the back pages of my mental menu, it spurred me to try it again. And with one bite, I found myself reunited with a forgotten deep-fried friend.

So reach back into your culinary memories for a favorite food that you haven't tasted in a while. For whatever reason it was set aside, perhaps it's time to give it another bite. If you've recently had a marvelous dish you've never tried before, tell someone! By sharing our enjoyment and enthusiasm for all manner of food whenever and with whomever we can, chances are we may rekindle someone's love of a long-neglected favorite. 

Accordingly, this recipe is dedicated to Shaved Ice Sundays - thank you for inspiring me to rediscover this sweet treat!

Banana Turons - Two Ways

Traditionally made with ripe saba, or plantain, I made these with regular bananas. Be sure to pick ones that still have a bit of green on the peel - too ripe and the bananas may become mushy after frying. And yes, they are basically banana lumpias!

Nutty-Rummy Turon

The white chocolate drizzling needs work, too.

Makes 12-16

The Basics

3-4 bananas, ripe but still a bit green

12-16 lumpia (spring roll) wrappers, found in the refrigerated section at many Asian stores

1/4 cup brown sugar, on a plate or shallow bowl

Slice bananas in half, lengthwise, and then slice each half across so that you have 4 pieces/banana;

For Classic Turon:

1 jar or can of langka (jackfruit), cut into strips

2 Tbs lemon juice

1. Slice bananas as directed above then dip pieces into lemon juice and dredge in brown sugar;

2. Place sugared banana on bottom third of a lumpia wrapper and top with 2 slices of langka;

3. Fold the bottom edge over the filling, tucking under firmly then fold over the side edges, making sure they are straight all the way up;

4. Gently but firmly, roll the turon all the way to the top. Moisten the top edge with water to seal the roll completely;

5. Repeat with remaining banana pieces.

For Nutty-Rummy Turon:

1/4 cup walnuts, chopped finely

1/4 cup dark rum

1. Slice bananas as above then soak in rum for 3-5 minutes;

2. Dredge one piece in brown sugar and place on bottom third of a lumpia wrapper. Sprinkle 1-2 tsps of walnuts on top;

3. Fold the bottom edge over the filling, tucking under firmly then fold over the side edges, making sure they are straight all the way up;

4. Gently but firmly, roll the turon all the way to the top. Moisten the top edge with water to seal the roll completely;

5. Repeat with remaining banana pieces.

For complete instructions on how to wrap and fry lumpia/turons, check out my slideshow tutorial How to Wrap Lumpia!

To fry:

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

2. Arrange turon 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.

Serve hot with chocolate sauce or a scoop of ice cream!

Chocolate Sauce:

 

1/4 - 1/2 cup milk, dark or white chocolate chips

1-2 Tbsps milk

Place chips and milk in small microwave-safe bowl; microwave on high for 20-30 seconds or until chips start melting. Stir to blend chips and milk.

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.