Simple is Good

Grilled Lamb Loin Chops with Yogurt & Mint Potato Salad

"The art of simplicity is a puzzle of complexity." -- Doug Horton

There's a lot to be said for complexity: the intricacies of form, function and meanings - whether in artistic endeavors or technological production - serve to create a tangle of elements that most of us are quite happy to spend hours unraveling, identifying and mastering. Just as we are fascinated with people who have enigmatic characters, we celebrate foods that have a depth of flavor; in both cases, the allure lies in the complicated, from myriad facets of personality in the former to multifarious ingredients and techniques in the latter. 

Complexity is great but sometimes, simplicity is good.

I actually enjoy meeting people whose worldviews may not be profound but whose sincerity and generosity of spirit are genuine. I love tasting food whose flavor can be described with a single word or making a recipe with ingredients I can count on one hand. Many of you know I can run on and on about how the act of eating is imbued with deeply personal and symbolic meanings, but even I realize that we often eat just because we're hungry. 

There are times when I don't want to work the puzzle or figure out the mystery, when I'd rather leave it to others to scrutinize Mona Lisa's smile while I content myself with a Happy Face sticker.

This is such a time. In an effort to accelerate my progress toward graduation, I enrolled in a summer class that condenses 3 months worth of coursework into 3 weeks. So, for several hours a day, I am immersed in the complex issues of cultural transitions and its psychological impact on members of insider/outsider groups. By the time I get home, I don't want to think anymore.

Mr. Noodle's gift of alstroemeria, also known as Peruvian Lily and Lily of the Incas

- quite fitting, given my fascination with this culture!

Last Wednesday (my birthday), I returned from class to find on the kitchen counter a thoughtful gift from Mr. Noodle - a beautiful mixed bouquet of flowers, including alstroemeria. Neither as fragrant as roses nor as showy as lilies, these common blossoms have always been a personal favorite and were even in my wedding bouquet. Later that evening, Mr. Noodle made a refreshing cocktail with a hint of sweetness and a tinge of pink that brought to mind the lovely hues of alstroemerias. The simplicity of both blossom and beverage was the perfect antidote to a day of complex study and I wanted to share it here.

Mr. Noodle is fundamentally opposed to claiming ownership of a recipe with only 3 ingredients; it's very likely that many variations of this already exist in the bartender's canon. However, since it brought to mind the flowers in my bridal bouquet and the fact that tomorrow is the first day of June, the traditional month of weddings, I've christened it with a nuptial theme.

The Bride's Blossom

I originally called this "The Blushing Bride", then discovered that there is already a cocktail by this name. Oops.

Just a hint of pink

For one drink:

1 part Shaker's Raspberry Honey Vodka **

1 part tonic water

Juice from 1/2 lime

Fill a highball glass with ice. Add lime juice and top with equal parts vodka and tonic water. Stir well and garnish with a slice of lime. Alstroemeria blossom optional.

**This particular brand may no longer be in production so please feel free to use another raspberry-infused vodka. However, you may wish to add a bit of simple syrup to boost sweetness.

For even more pretty-hued drinks, check out the delicious concoctions from Greg at SippitySup, who invokes coolly glamorous sophistication with the Aviation Cocktail, and Diva on a Diet at Beach Eats whose sleight of hand turns a Spiked Blueberry Lemonade into a magnificent magenta refresher.

These two bloggers also deserve credit for my next offering: shortly after Greg posted his Minty Mashed Potatoes as part of Mint Week, the Diva confirmed that it's officially potato salad season (per Papa Diva). Between them, I was inspired to make a favorite summer stand-by that is definitely in keeping with my need for simplicity. 

While dinners in the Noodle household have recently been of the very quick and easy variety, it doesn't mean that we've given up on great flavor. One of Mr. Noodle's favorites is the rich, gamey taste of lamb loin chops, which he grills unmarinated, unseasoned and barely on the safe side of rare. Instead of a traditional mint sauce to go directly over the meat, I paired it with a delicious potato salad in a fresh yogurt and mint dressing.

Mint and Yogurt Potato Salad

This recipe comes from Cooking Light** magazine; unfortunately, I did not record the publication date and it does not appear on their website. This is the recipe in its entirety and original form.

**Update 6/8/09 - I found this same recipe posted in NYTimes.com Recipes section, dated 7/99! 

Ingredients:

2 lbs fingerling or other small potatoes, halved

1 cup whole milk yogurt

2 Tbsp olive oil

1 tsp kosher salt

1/2 tsp freshly ground black pepper

1 clove minced garlic

2 scallions, thinly sliced

1/2 cup mint leaves, thinly sliced

To make:

1. Place the potatoes in a large pot and add cold salted water to cover. Bring to a boil, lower the heat and simmer until potatoes are tender, about 15 minutes;

2. Drain potatoes and place in a large bowl;

3. In a small bowl, whisk together the yogurt, olive oil, salt, pepper and garlic. 

4. Pour mixture over the hot potatoes, toss and allow to cool to room temperature (although the sauce may appear runny at first, it will thicken upon cooling);

5. Toss again with scallions, garnish with mint and serve.

Wishing you a simply delightful summer meal!

A birthday bouquet from my sweet sisters in California!

Happy Birthday to Meme

Split personality: Coco-Mocha Flan Cake

"How old would you be if you didn't know how old you were?"

-- Satchel Paige

Next week, I will celebrate my 40th birthday. I thought about dissembling my age and offering coy evasions if asked to enumerate the years. After all, I am entering a new personal era which I like to call the Age of Euphemism - the period in many a woman's life when any direct references to age suddenly become verboten. Instead, figurative phrases are deployed to delicately sidestep the irrevocable and unyielding truth: I am getting older.

So at the University, I am officially classified as a non-traditional student [translation: older than some of my professors]; in polite circles, acquaintances may refer to me as a woman of a certain age [translation: too old to hang with the impolite circles]; and to the bright young things at the café, the classroom and pretty much everywhere I turn, I am simply M'am [translation: old enough to be their mother].

Admittedly, I sometimes wish that time could be suspended. Peering at myself in the mirror, I wistfully expect to see the smooth face of yesteryear instead of the more crinkled visage of today. When I notice the slight jiggle in my upper arms, where taut skin and well-defined triceps used to be, it seems to me less like untoned muscle in need of a good workout and more like a fleshy flag of surrender in the battle to stay fit when my body just wants to throw in the gym towel. 

 May Birth Flower:Lily of the Valley

And yet, I am in a good, enviable place - I have a husband whom no superlative can adequately describe, a sweetly goofy dog who gives me unconditional adoration, a lovely home that deserves a better housekeeper than me, and countless other blessings. If I am happy with the person I am today, then I must acknowledge that this person is the aggregate of forty years worth of living. Wishing for a do-over is like asking that the Leaning Tower of Pisa be rebuilt straight - it would be more symmetrical but it would also be just another old building. 

So, as I look forward to my birthday next Wednesday, I promise to look back on the past, not with regret at what I might have done differently, but with appreciation for what I have actually done to reach this happy point in my life. So far, so good . . . 

It's All About Meme

When it comes to birthdays, I subscribe to the idea of 'Queen for the Day': I get to choose the cake, the dinner and the day's activities. In short, it's all about me! As such, there's no better time to finally fulfill the two memes for which I was tagged several weeks ago. 

The first came from Christine at Maman and Gourmand, whose blog not only features tantalizing recipes and mouthwatering food photos but also offers product reviews and, more recently, amazing prizes for giveaways and contests - check out her latest prize of artisan chocolates. 

Her meme tag was followed by the 'Premio Meme' from two bloggers on opposite ends of the north-south axis: my fellow Minnesotan Scate Bakes who, when she's not blogging about food with a retro twist, knits  the cutest items and runs in half-marathons; and Bytes from Texas, a self-described 'Hornsfan' who "bleeds burnt orange"  while creating everything delicious from home-baked hamburger buns and English muffins to chicken tacos and Singapore noodles. If these blogs are new to you, please visit - you'll be in for some wonderful treats!

These two memes ask recipients to answer questions or list personal traits that would give readers an opportunity to learn a little bit more about them. I'm all for participating but rather than subject everyone to a double list of my life's minutiae, I've decided to tangle these two strands into one. It doesn't follow the rules, but hey - it's my party and I'll meme as I want to.

Two Memes, One Me

Taking a cue from my astrological sign Gemini, my meme theme is duality. For those of us born under the Sign of the Twins, each personal characteristic is a two-sided coin, a yin for every yang; it's a fine line between having a moody temperament and full-blown multiple personalities. According to Mr. Noodle, life with a Gemini is like a can of chocolate bridge mix: you never know which nut you're going to get. 

So, without further ado, I present my Gemini Meme: 

Sweet and Sour Noodle: a Tangled List

or 

7 Traits That Best Describe Me . . . and What They Really Mean 

I am deliberate. I like to take my time and consider all possibilities before acting . . . in fact, I take so much time that I usually run out of it. Then, I tell myself that the panicky feeling is really adrenaline.

I am open-minded. I give careful thought to all possibilities to ensure the best decision . . . which leads to torturous indecision. After giving careful thought to all possibilities, they all sound good!

I am focused. When I'm working on a project, it has my full concentration and energy . . . unless I'm distracted. When I find a topic [snack time!] that really interests me, I do put my head [Judge Judy!] down and get to business but [squirrel!] not always.

I am energetic. I approach each endeavor with enthusiasm and high spirits . . . which can sometimes cross the line into spastic behavior. Even the dog is sometimes embarrassed to be seen with me in public.

I am sensitive. I am empathetic and deeply attuned to the nuances of emotion . . . so much so that if Mr. Noodle forgets to give me my morning kiss, I'm convinced he loves the dog more than me.

I am health-conscious. A fit body is the vessel for a long life so I eat nutritiously, exercise often, and visit the doctor's office regularly . . . because I am a hypochondriac. If I actually develop just half of the tumors that I've self-diagnosed, I'd look like the Elephant Man.

I am modest. Notwithstanding this 'me' post, I prefer to remain in the background and let others take the spotlight . . . that way, if someone wants to steal an identity, chances are they will overlook me. A bit paranoid, you say? How do you know? Are you spying on me? 

Although most memes ask that new recipients be named, I would like to invite everyone to pick up the Premio Meme; see details at Scate Bakes or Bytes from Texas. Or, feel free to take up this Gemini Meme - simply list as many traits as you'd like that best describe you, followed by their flip-side meaning.

Finally, to complete this birthday/duality post, I offer a treat that can't quite make up it's mind - is it a flan or is it a cake? It's a Flan Cake!

Coco-Mocha Flan Cake

The best of both worlds - airy chiffon cake topped with a creamy leche flan, together in one dessert! I had a slice of this during our Philippine trip and I finally found the perfect occasion to make it. I decided to incorporate the three C's of favorite flavors - coconut, coffee and cocoa - while keeping it as light as possible. I also opted to prepare it in individual ramekins although it is usually baked as a whole cake; in hindsight, the traditional form may turn out to be a more visually pleasing presentation than the ones offered here.

Ingredients and Instructions

For the Leche Flan:

(Adapted from one recipe found in both Signature Dishes of the Philippines (1st ed.) by Sony Robles-Florendo, and The Complete Asian Cookbook by Charmaine Solomon)

This flan is lighter than most Filipino leche flans; if you'd like a richer, creamier texture try the luscious recipes recently highlighted by Jenn at Bread + Butter and Heather at Girlichef.

1/2 cup granulated sugar

1/4 cup water

3 large eggs

2 egg yolks

1/2 cup caster (a.k.a superfine) sugar

1 1/2 cups 1% milk

1 cup coconut milk (For a much more pronounced coconut flavor, increase coconut milk to 1 1/2 cups and reduce 1% milk to 1 cup.) 

2 tsps vanilla extract

1. Put sugar and water in small saucepan and heat without stirring until it turns a deep, golden brown color. Remove from heat and immediately pour into a large glass baking dish or casserole. Tilt the dish so that the caramel coats the entire bottom surface before it hardens;

2. In a large bowl, beat the whole eggs and egg yolks until foamy. Gradually add caster sugar and beat until thick and light;

3. Heat 1% and coconut milk, then add gradually to the egg and sugar mixture, beating constantly. Stir in vanilla;

4. Set aside while preparing the chiffon batter;

For the Chiffon Cake:

(Recipe from Baker's Manual (p. 105) by Joseph Amendola and Nicole Rees)

Due to the use of vegetable oil, chiffon cakes tend to remain moist when refrigerated, which makes it the ideal cake base for this chilled dessert. Feel free to use any chiffon cake recipe you prefer.

2/3 cup cake flour

1/3 cup Dutch-processed cocoa

2/3 cup granulated sugar

1 tsp baking powder

1/4 tsp salt

4 large eggs, separated

1/4 cup vegetable oil

1/4 cup strong black coffee

1/2 tsp vanilla extract

1. In one bowl, whisk cake flour, cocoa, sugar, baking powder and salt until well combined;

2. Whisk in egg yolks, oil, coffee and vanilla until batter is smooth;

3. In a separate bowl, beat egg whites almost to stiff peak stage. Fold egg whites into the egg yolk mixture in two additions;

To prepare Flan Cake:

1. Preheat oven to 325ºF;

2. Strain flan custard into the caramel-coated dish. 

3. Carefully pour or spoon out the chiffon batter over the custard;  don't worry - batter will float on top! Use only enough so that the cake will not overflow the pan as it rises during baking;

4. Place dish into a larger baking or roasting pan then place onto oven rack. Pour boiling water around and half-way up the dish;

5. Bake for 25-30 minutes, testing for doneness by inserting a knife through cake and custard. When knife comes out clean, remove cake from oven and let cool.

6. When cooled down, cover with foil or plastic wrap and chill in the refrigerator, preferably overnight;

To serve Flan Cake:

1. Place dish in a larger baking or roasting pan and pour hot water around and half-way up the dish. Let sit for a few minutes;

2. Run a knife around the inside edges then place a large plate over the dish and invert. Cake should slip on to the plate; if not, carefully turn the dish over again and put back into the water-filled pan, replacing hot water if necessary. Repeat.

3. Slice into square portions, spooning caramel sauce from the dish. Serve and enjoy!

Not quite as cake-y but still delicious!

A Causa for Celebration

Causa de cangrejo

Peruvian potato, crab and avocado dish

The Spring 2009 semester is now history!

For a few weeks at least, there will be no syllabi telling me which chapters I must read; no writing assignments on pre-determined topics; and no quizzes, exams or other manner of testing. I will read, write and challenge myself however I see fit, thank you very much.

That's not to say that I didn't enjoy my studies; in fact, my just-completed anthropology course, Rise of Civilizations, proved to be an exciting revelation about the central role of food in our social evolution. As a broad survey encompassing 12,000 years of human history and 10 different regions of the world, it wasn't possible to delve with great detail into the food practices of each culture but it was more than enough to whet my appetite to learn more. 

The Cooking Ape?

The ability to make and use tools, and to control fire first set early hominids apart from other great apes but it was how these innovations were used that hastened (relatively speaking) our journey down the evolutionary path. Stone tools dating as far back as 2.5 million years ago facilitated the consumption of meat, providing "useful cutting edges for a species that lacks both sharp teeth and claws for slicing meat, shredding, plants or digging" (Price, 63). The general scientific consensus is that meat provided the extra calories necessary to develop the larger, Homo sapien brain.

Not so fast, says biological anthropologist and author Richard Wrangham, who argues that raw meat alone was insufficient to support the pace of human evolution. In his new book Catching Fire: How Cooking Made Us Human, Wrangham theorizes that cooking was the crucial extra step necessary to shape the modern human form and lifestyle. Cooking by fire softened animal and plant matter, he says, rendering them easier to digest and more nutritious, thereby providing significantly more calories for physiological development (Evans, 79). Furthermore, he suggests that the control of fire may have also been an important catalyst in forming social relations:

[Photo from WikiMedia.org]

"Once individuals were drawn to a specific attractive location that had a fire, they spent a lot of time around it together . . . We had to be able to look each other in the eye [and not] react with impulsivity. Once you are sitting around the fire, you need to suppress reactive emotions that would otherwise lead to social chaos. Around that fire, we became tamer."

(Wrangham, quoted in Dreifus, n.p.)

From Civility to Civilization

While Wrangham's theory is under debate, there is no doubt that with increased sociability and cooperation, humans began the slow transition from hunter-gatherers to settled agriculturalists and eventually, residents of towns and cities. But just as eating raw meat can not be solely credited for human evolution, cooking by itself did not give rise to the ancient civilizations that were precursors of today's complex societies. 

Instead, it was our ancestors' domestication of plants and animals nearly 10,000 years ago that made it possible to produce sufficient, even surplus, food which in turn allowed them to redirect their energies toward developing the hallmarks of civilization, such as occupational specialization (e.g. farming, manufacturing) and economic trade. Within a short evolutionary timespan, every continent in the world, excepting Australia and Antarctica, saw the rise of such complex societies, marked by the emergence of large urban centers like Rome, the creation of monumental architecture such as pyramids, and the development of distinct artistic styles in paintings, personal ornamentation and pottery.

(Photo from www.hp.uab.edu)

It is through such artistic expression and detailed craftwork that we may trace the transformation of food consumption from basic necessity to political and ritual form. In one of the earliest pictorial representations of ancient ruling systems, the Royal Standard of Ur (2600-2400 BC) from southern Mesopotamia depicts a feast during which food, both harvested and on the hoof, are presented in tribute to the king. During China's Shang Dynasty (1700-1100 BC), skilled artisans created food containers of exquisitely molded bronze which were meant strictly for ritual purposes, usually as grave goods to be buried with its owner as an offering to honored ancestors.

And in South America, elaborately decorated drinking cups called keros, made of ceramic, wood and even gold, were produced as early as the pre-Incan cultures of Tiwanaku and Huari (AD 400-1000) and continued well after the Spanish Conquest. These vessels were filled with chicha, a fermented drink made of maïze, and were used primarily for ceremonial activities. A peculiar characteristic of keros was that they were always made in pairs - one for use by a human ritual participant and the other as a symbolic offering to the gods. [Image on the right depicts an Inca king drinking from a kero while its pair is carried by a small figure up to the Sun God, Inti. From Guaman Poma website]

Of all the regions covered in the course, it was South America and its early cultures that captured my imagination. Whereas archaeological evidence points to long-distance trade between the civilizations in the Near East, Europe, Africa and Asia (all connected by land mass), allowing wide exchange of information and technologies, South American societies developed in relative isolation and yet managed achievements that rivalled those from across the oceans.

Inca Civilization - High Society

(Photo by Eric in SF) 

Stretching from what is today Ecuador and down to the southern part of modern Chile, the Inca empire (AD 1476-1534) - the largest civilization in pre-industrialized Americas - enjoyed a very bright, albeit very brief, reign. Based primarily in the Andes Mountains but with the rich waters of the Pacific to the west and the lush jungles of the Amazon to the east, the Inca enjoyed a broad-based food supply ranging from fresh fish and shellfish, meats from domesticated llamas, alpacas and guinea pig, and crops such as maïze, potatoes, squash, beans and peppers.

Food and other commodities were distributed across the region by way of an extensive paved highway system similar to the vast network of roads in the Roman empire and complete with waystations called tampus where travelers could rest and store their goods (Price, 422). But this was not the only feat of engineering that the Inca shared with distant cultures with which they had no contact.  

Terraced farming in the Andes - cutting level areas within a slope for agricultural use - may have developed as far back as 2400 BC (Crawford, 414), which would predate even the famous 2,000-year-old Banaue Rice Terraces in the Philippines! Could this be the reason for my fascination with South American civilizations among all the ones covered during this course? A primal affinity, a subconscious recognition of a kindred culture?

Terraces at Macchu Picchu (photo by CmdrGravy)

Cocina Peruana

Or is it, as always, about the food? Great minds may think alike but when it comes down to it, the stomach rules the head! Peru, as the central land of the Inca empire, has 28 of the 32 designated climate zones, resulting in an incredible biodiversity of animals and plants, particularly its seafood and potatoes. But dishes such as papa a la Huancaína, lomo saltado, anticuchos and, of course, ceviche (recipes from Wikimedia Cookbooks) reflect not only Peru's diverse ecosystem but its rich social history as well. 

". . . Peruvian cuisine is the quintessence of cultural fusion . . . blending between Inca and Spanish traditions [and] incorporating the flavours and techniques of the many immigrants that disembarked in the country's ports, in particular African, Chinese, and Japanese."

(The Peru Guide)

Led by the country's most renowned and successful chef Gaston Acurio, who recently opened an outpost of his popular Lima restaurant La Mar Cebicheria Peruana in San Francisco, Peruvian cuisine is quickly gaining a foothold among American gastronomes and has already been hailed by Epicurious.com and Bon Appétit as one of the hottest food trends of 2009. 

Not one to miss the bandwagon, especially if it's carrying such fabulous fare, and inspired by my favorite ancient civilization, I decided to celebrate my (hopefully) successful completion of the semester by preparing Causa, a layered potato dish of seafood and avocado served chilled.

Also known as Causa Limeña, it is a perfect representation of Peru's indigenous foods - potatoes (of which approximately 3000 varieties are grown), seafood and the chile pepper known as aji amarillo (yellow Peruvian hot pepper). The origins of this dish and the etymology of its name are as varied as the cuisine's many influences. 

The term 'causa' comes from the Quechua word 'kausay', meaning 'necessary sustenance', invoking the role of potato, its main ingredient, as the primary staple food in Peruvian history (Higgins, 207). But it is also the Spanish word for 'cause', which may refer to one story that the dish was created by patriotic housewives during the 19th century war with Chile. In fact, 'limeña' is the word for the women of Lima, Peru's capital. And yet, it is also another name of a variety of yellow potato, papa amarilla  ('Lost Crops', 95). Got all that?

No matter the meaning of its name, causa is a delicious example of Peruvian cuisine and a perfect summer dish.

Works Cited:

Crawford, R.M.M. Plants at the Margin. Cambridge U P: 2008.

Dreifus, Claudia. "From Studying Chimps, a Theory on Cooking." New York Times. April 20, 2009.

Evans, Mary. "What's Cooking?" The Economist. February 21, 2009: 79-80.

Higgins, James. Lima: a Cultural History. 2005

Lost Crops of the Incas. Office of International Affairs. 1989.

Price, T. Douglas and Gary Feinman. Images of the Past. McGraw-Hill: 2006.

Causa de cangrejo (Crab Causa)

The dish presented here is an adaptation from two recipes for Crab Causa - the first is from The Peru Guide and the other from Whole Foods Market. Traditionally, it is garnished with olives and slices of hardboiled eggs; however, I opted for WFM's idea of topping it with a fresh mango-tomato salsa. I also prepared it as a 'loaf' but for an even more pleasing presentation, it may be prepared as individual servings using ring molds or ramekins.

Serves 4-6

Ingredients and instructions

For the causa:

1 kg (about 2 lbs) Yukon Gold or other yellow potato

4 Tbsps aji amarillo paste**

1/4 cup canola oil 

1 lime, juiced

1/2 cup mayonnaise, divided

1 (6 oz) can crabmeat, drained well

2 scallions, finely chopped

1 avocado (+ 1-2 tsps lime juice)

Salt to taste

Panko (optional)

** Aji amarillo paste is an essential staple of the Peruvian pantry and an important ingredient in many recipes. Although it may be difficult to find, it is well worth the effort to have it on hand. Otherwise, try this recipe for making your own paste!

1. Boil the potatoes. Drain and cool until safe to handle, then peel and mash very well (no lumps!); 

2. Let cool then mix thoroughly with aji paste, canola oil, lime juice and 1/4 cup mayonnaise. Set aside;

3. In another bowl, mix crabmeat, 1/4 cup mayonnaise and scallions (if the mixture is too runny, add panko by tablespoons until thickened). Set aside;

4. In a separate bowl, mash avocado with lime juice and set aside;

5. Cover the inside of a bread loaf pan with enough plastic wrap so that it overhangs the edges;

6. Spread a smooth layer of mashed potato on the bottom of the pan, then add mashed avocado;

7. Add another layer of potato, then spread over with the crabmeat mix;

8. Spread remaining mashed potato; cover with plastic wrap, laying it directly on the potato;

9. Refrigerate for at least one hour before serving.

For the mango salsa

3 large plum tomatoes, diced small (about 3/4 - 1 cup)

1/4 cup sweet onion, diced small

1/2 mango, cut into small chunks

Cilantro, chopped fine

1 Tbsp lime juice

Salt to taste

Mix all ingredients together and refrigerate until ready to use.

To serve the causa:

1. Remove causa from the refrigerator and place a large plate over the top of the pan;

2. Carefully invert the pan and plate, allowing the causa to slide out; carefully peel the plastic wrap and smooth out any 'wrinkles' with a knife or spatula;

3. Spoon mango salsa on top, gently spreading it so that it covers the surface;

4. You may wish to allow guests to spoon it on their plates themselves as 'slicing' it is somewhat messy (chilling for several hours helps set it more firmly). Given time and patience, you may wish to plate individual portions using ramekins or ring molds. Serve immediately!

After the first taste, I'm sure you'll be saying, "¡Sumaq mikhuna!" (Quechua, "That was delicious!")

Noshing on Nostalgia

A plain and simple dish, made from memory

I'm just a sentimental fool.

No matter how small, worn or downright useless an object may be, if it holds an iota of cherished memory, I will not easily part with it. In particular, I cling to remembrances preserved in words: letters, greeting cards, even tattered postcards written to persons who were gone generations before I was born. I find such written records as valuable as any heirloom because the memories evoked by words are more easily and broadly shared by those who were not present during the actual experience but for whom the sentiments are universal. 

Sentimental words, preserved

I was reminded of this as I read Laura Miller's piece "A Recipe for Escapism" in last Saturday's Wall Street Journal Weekend (5/2/09), about the popularity of cookbooks for recreational reading (as opposed to their ostensible purpose as recipe collections). She wrote, "A cookbook can have an ambience, a philosophy, even a plot . . . Many people confess to reading cookbooks 'like novels,' that is, cover-to-cover, usually in bed and often with no real intention of preparing the dishes the author describes."

According to Miller, the appeal of modern cookbooks often has little to do with food itself and instead reflects a reader's desire for a culinary fantasy, to imagine oneself as a global gastronome, an aficionado of luxury edibles, or a master of kitchen technique. Even the folks-like-us themes she facetiously identified, such as Southern Fried Schtick à la Paula Deen and the autoblographies by the likes of food blogger turned print star Molly Wizenberg (a.k.a. Orangette), are about living a life a tad less ordinary through food writing. But the category that really drew my attention was what Miller referred to as Toxic Nostalgia, explaining it thus:

"America is a nation of people who can't wait to leave home so that they can start mooning over their hopelessly idealized memories of it . . . so recipes you would expect to provoke shudders become magically beloved when handed down by Aunt May or - better yet - Grandma herself. Why else would anyone want to whip up Mile High Bologna Pie . . .?"

Miller's dismay over sentiment trumping sense (of taste) apparently missed her own point: that these books have little to do with food itself and a lot to do with the intangible benefit the reader takes away. In the case of nostalgia, that take-away is often a feeling of comfort.

In a previous post, I wrote that nostalgia is one of four motifs of comfort food to which people turn in times of stress. The food itself can be almost anything - the most important quality is the sense of sharing and being nurtured that is evoked when they are consumed. In a 2008 study, "Nostalgia: Past, Present and Future" (Current Directions in Psychological Science 17.5: 304-7), lead researcher Constantine Sedikides explained the psychological benefits of nostalgia across cultural and generational groups:

"It is part of the fabric of everyday life and serves at least four key psychological functions: it generates positive affect, elevates self-esteem, fosters social connectedness, and alleviates existential threat." 

(Sedikides et al., 307)

Sounds good, doesn't it? But Miller may have a point in her tepid opinion of nostalgia in food; after all, too much sugar can spoil even dessert. The rose-tinted glasses that we don when looking at the past soften the rough edges of memory by obscuring the unpleasant or inconvenient spots, leaving an utopian image of yore. In her essay "A Plea for Culinary  Modernism" (Gastronomica I Feb. 2001: 36-44), historian Rachel Laudan observed that calls for the return of modern food production and consumption to practices of the 'good old days' fail to account for historical facts - that food and foodways of the past were often unequally distributed, unhealthily produced and stored, and untenable for the realities of today. 

"Were we able to turn back the clock . . . many of us would be toiling all day in the fields or the kitchen; many of us would be starving. Nostalgia is not what we need."

(Laudan, 43)

Pitchforks and petticoats: not as bucolic as it seems

(Photo from Library of Congress/Flickr)

As the basis for large-scale social change in modern foodways, nostalgia is like a lace dress on the 800-lb gorilla - pretty but not enough to cover all that hairiness. But as the basis for purchasing a cookbook, it's as good a reason as any. From Miller's brief paragraph on nostalgic food writing, it's easy to infer what she believes is the reason for why writers wax poetic over dubious recipes (they're sentimental saps) but the question of why people love to read them is left open for opinion.

My answer? Quite simply, we're sentimental saps, too. We can relate to the writer's experiences of family birthdays, romantic dinners and holiday meals even if all the details - the food, the event, the people - are completely different from our own. What remains the same is (all together now!) the shared feelings of comfort, love and nurturing. Pick any food blog and read a post in which the featured recipe is accompanied by a personal story; chances are that many readers have commented with some variation on the words, "Thanks for sharing a wonderful memory . . ."

"[N]ostalgia strengthens social bonds. Nostalgia is a social emotion; it has been said that, during nostalgic reverie, 'the mind is peopled'*. Symbolic ties with close others are confirmed, and close others come to be momentarily part of one's present."

(*Wildschut et al., quoted in Sedikides et al., 306)

The power of food to bring people together is most often viewed in the context of direct commensality in which all participants occupy the same place, space and time; nostalgic food writing demonstrates that physical proximity is not required to achieve social interaction. As we read an author's account of a special time filled with good food and loved ones, our minds are 'peopled' just as vividly but chosen from our own memory stores. In effect, their nostalgic reminiscences morph into our treasured memories. 

But is shared nostalgia enough, as Miller wonders, to inspire someone to actually make a Mile High Bologna Pie or any other dubious recipe? Who would make an otherwise unexceptional dish simply because they could relate to the sentiment attached to it? Well, there's me . . .

A Mush-y Memory

Mr. Noodle's favorite, drizzled with honey

The first time I visited my husband's paternal Grandmother P, I spotted on her kitchen wall a small wooden plaque etched with childish lettering, which I was told was a special gift handmade by a six-year-old Mr. Noodle. Now, some grandsons might offer their beloved grannies macaroni necklaces while others proudly present works of finger-paint art or a grubby fistful of dandelion bouquet. This young lad snuck into his father's workshop and used a wood burning kit to etch an earnest and heartfelt message for his grandmother: 'Please Make Me Some More Cornmeal Mush.'

Normally, the only way I'd consider the word 'mush' appealing as a food is if it ends with 'room'. But I had to discover for myself what made it so special that a rambunctious little boy would painstakingly spell out his culinary plea for more of it. The verdict? 

No dish could be more simple but when flavored with the memories of a boy and his grandmother, no dish ever tasted sweeter.

'Please Make Me Some More' Cornmeal Mush

This dish is so easy that I now feel silly for having asked my mother-in-law for the recipe! I really had no idea what cornmeal mush was until it was described to me as being similar to polenta. So, I prepared it first the way Grandmother P did, drizzled with honey, just as Mr. Noodle prefers. Then, I made a savory dish as one might use polenta, topped with Ginger Glazed Mahi-Mahi from Allrecipes.com.

Ingredients

1 cup yellow cornmeal

1 cup cold water + 3 cups water to boil

1 tsp salt

To make:

1. Bring 3 cups of water to a boil. Meanwhile, mix cornmeal, cold water and salt;

2. Slowly pour cornmeal mixture into boiling water, stirring constantly. If lumps begin to form, use a whisk to stir and break them up;

3. Continue to stir and cook until thickened then lower heat, cover and continue cooking for about 5 minutes more;

4. Butter a bread loaf pan and pour in cornmeal mixture.

(This is where Grandmother P's version slightly deviates from other mush recipes)

5. Preheat oven to 325°.  Bake mush for about 10-12 minutes;

6. Remove from oven and allow to cool, then cover loosely with foil and refrigerate overnight;

7. When ready to serve, flip pan over a plate or cutting board to remove cornmeal 'loaf'. Slice like bread to desired thickness;

8. Melt butter or other cooking fat in a skillet on medium heat. Fry slices until lightly golden brown on each side;

9. Serve sweet with maple syrup, honey, jams or preserves, or savory with sautéed vegetables, grilled meat, fish or poultry.

Ginger Glazed Mahi-Mahi over Fried Cornmeal Mush