Defining Your Terms
OR
Good Food
I love good food. I love exquisite dishes perfectly complemented by cleverly chosen spices and herbs. I love simple offerings that are made excellent by dint of superior ingredients. But my admittedly broad definition of good food goes beyond herbs spices and ingredients, and the city where I live, in some ways, shares my democratic culinary standards. Here in NYC good food can be outrageously expensive, but long, long lines at street meat trucks and the semi-regular “best hot dog” and “killer knish” contests in various newspapers and blogs prove that good food comes at every price point. However, there are meals I unabashedly put in the “good food” category that still raise a few eyebrows among foodie friends. I’m talking about meals I ate growing up that I can’t find in any restaurant in the city. Meals like Cheeseburger Pie that inspired my husband to refer to me as his favorite square-stater. (I’m from Ohio; he’s not so lucky.)
I’ve never been a cook, but like I said, some of my comfort food cravings can only be satisfied if I take to the kitchen myself and that’s how I first ended up over a simmering pot of Mom’s Spaghetti. It has chili powder. Most recipes passed down from her West Virginian mother do. I have an uncle who calls it Hillbilly spaghetti, but that guy married into the family and has a very narrow definition of meat sauce. Anyway. I wanted Mom’s Spaghetti. I made it, and the next time I lost a bet with my brother, I had to pay in sauce because once he found out I could pull it off, that was more valuable than even cold, hard cash.
Years later, I’ve learned to make other stuff that fits neatly into even the most narrow definition of good food. Take Chicken with Caramelized Onions, Glazed Figs and Pomegranate from the Oldways Table cookbook, for instance. Sometimes, though, a childhood basic like Mom’s Spaghetti, or Cheeseburger Pie tastes better than any so-called good food. It tastes like dinner with my family at 6:30 pm with the TV off, served as often as not with a salad consisting of iceberg lettuce, ripped up American cheese slices, a tomato wedge dressed with Seven Seas Viva Italian from Kraft. Kind of square and Square Stateish, but kind of awesome. Especially when I know I can go out for Tikka Masala tomorrow and amazing yellowfin king fish the night after that. Woman cannot live by Cheeseburger Pie and chili powder alone.
Reading these brought to mind what I consider to be my first “real” cooking experience and the beginning of my obsession with good food. It was my senior year of college, as I recall, and I was living in my sorority house. Sunday nights we had to fend for ourselves which usually meant eating leftovers from the fridge, making some ramen noodles, or ordering out. My roommate, Amy, and I decided that we wanted to actually have a real meal and opted to make capellini pomodoro (a la The Olive Garden).
First, we gathered the ingredients: dry pasta noodles, fresh tomatoes and garlic, dried oregano, plus bread to make garlic bread along with a bottle of red wine that we smuggled into the house (very much against the rules!). Then we set out to recreate my favorite dish from the Italian chain. We cut and boiled, simmered and stirred, tasted and seasoned until we had everything just right. It was exhilarating to be the masters of the kitchen, cooking to our personal tastes.
When the two of us sat down in the formal dining room with our plates and raised our glasses of wine to toast ourselves, there was a sense of accomplishment and truly being an adult for me. The pasta was delicious, as I recall, but what I remember most vividly was the camaraderie of cooking and how it brought us closer together as friends. Food tastes infinitely better when made and enjoyed with those you love.
Thus, my love affair with food began. I suppose I love making food as much as I do consuming it. I have stacks of recipes that I pulled from the pages of my beloved (and now gone) Gourmet magazine. Some I have cooked over and over, others I have yet to try. I love trying new recipes, adjusting them to accommodate local, fresh ingredients to maximize flavor and color. What I enjoy most is making up my own concoctions: pan seared kielbasa with peppers and onions (simple but delicious); grilled squash and goat cheese sandwiches with carmelized onions,; colorful, tasty salads with homemade dressing; salmon fillets grilled with red onion and orange slices. Nothing fancy – just basic ingredients paired for maximum taste.
Unfortunately, I don’t cook nearly as often as I’d like. Being a working mother of two girls under the age of four makes things a bit more complicated so the crock pot is a very dear friend, particularly in the colder months. Chilis, roasts, and soups are staples as are roasted meats and vegetables that take minimal prep time. Every now and then, though, I get ambitious and take on something big and time-consuming like roasted butternut squash and apple soup with bleu cheese drizzle.
I find it funny, in retrospect, that the first “real” meal I made was inspired by the Olive Garden. I now generally eschew national chain restaurants in favor of local or regional restaurants, mostly because I think the food tastes better. I guess I am a bit of a food snob that way, but taste matters. New York spoiled me, or more accurately, opened my eyes to what food can and should be.
Thanks so much for you contribution.