Secrets in the Kitchen W7

Coca-Cola has a pretty good reason to keep their recipe secret; the international company has almost $50 billion dollars of assets all riding on their signature crisp soft drink.

But I don't believe you need to be a corporation to keep your recipes secret, and I completely understand the pride and sense of self that goes into crafting your own, perfect dish. If you took the time and effort to taste test, swap ingredients, fiddle with cooking times and ultimately perfect something, by all means, guard it like Fort Knox.

For me, it's hard enough to simply follow a recipe from a cookbook without burning something. Over the years, I've learned this is why there's such a tremendous pride that comes from cooking something delicious. I remember the first time I made scrambled eggs and hash browns as a kid, and even though they eggs were runny, it was a great meal because I was responsible for the process from start to finish.

I love to experiment in the kitchen, but my food research doesn't extend much farther than strange sandwich combinations. I feel at my current level of cooking comfort, I wouldn't know where to begin making something daring when there's so much pre-existing cuisine I have yet to try to make. One of my culinary goals is to cook through an Italian cookbook, and maybe the marathon ordeal will jar new combinations to try.

My family isn't big on secret recipes either, and the closest thing I can think of might be my Grandma's biscuits and gravy recipe. The homemade buttery biscuits are perfectly flaky on top with a warm, soft center, and the gravy is thick and creamy with a hint of some herb, I don't know which, that makes the whole breakfast pop. I'm sure she'd tell me if I asked, and maybe I should. Although hers was sausage gravy, I could experiment and adapt that same flavor into a vegetarian recipe. If it's any good, maybe I'll write it down and keep it a secret.

Food Injustice W6

"Food Inc." was a startling film. It was full of persuasive rhetoric and emotionally charged imagery, but for me, the most compelling aspect of the film was its ability to explain the difference between how we produced food a few decades ago compared to today. I consider this the most effective logos-driven technique used, as well as the most important thing to take away from the movie.

The first section of the movie criticizes the current cultivation techniques of farm animals that are only concerned with growing and stuffing them fatter and quicker. Anymore, animals are so far removed from their natural environment, the way thousands of cows are crowded on vast stretches of flat, lifeless land and chickens are packed into lightless hotboxes, they're treated more like meat machines than sentient beings. The fact that runaway capitalism has led us to this point, that animals are degraded to the basest level of commodity, is the reason I'm a vegetarian, and I found it to be an incredibly persuasive argument.

The second section of the movie examines how U.S. government subsidies to corn and soy have transformed the international food economy. Genetically modified corn derivatives are contained within the overwhelming majority of all processed food and animal feed, and they're not that healthy. Even worse, we've exported it to other countries and devastated local economies, forcing them into dependency on our dirt cheap corn. This argument was effective because it compares the natural way of agriculture of the past with the new, technocratic methods and explicitly demonstrates why they sacrifice environmental sustainability and nutrition for profit.

The third section of the movie deals with the legal and economic power of the country's biggest food industry corporations. They've been consolidating and building wealth, bullying local farmers into debt schemes and scaling back their rights in the name of intellectual property (Monsanto's terminator seeds). Americans are eating more and more of this unhealthy food because it's marketed to them, and the country is still trying to figure out why there is a a growing obesity problem.

All three of these main arguments within the movie are framed in such a way that we are able to see the disparity between ways of the past and ways of today, and big corporations are meticulously skirting the well being of humans and animals in exchange for bigger profits. This rhetorical technique leads me to believe that the information in this documentary is so current that not enough people have yet heard how the food industry has changed the way they eat.

Food Studies W5

As my own personal chef, I realized recently that my cooking has become a bit boring. I always cook eggs the same way (sunny side up), I use all the same tricks in my stir-fry (lots of garlic & Sriracha hot sauce) and my lunch sandwiches have become too predictable (grilled cheese, grilled everything). Most likely because I spend so much time thinking about food in this class, my personal standards are slowly shifting, and I'm putting my previous methodologies under review.

Last week, I decided to perfect my scrambled eggs. My old recipe called for cracking eggs in the pan, pouring in a bit of milk from the jug, forking it around and waiting for the eggs to solidify. I notoriously overcook things, and my old recipe's scrambled eggs were dense, sickly looking things.

I did a bit of research and found a much better recipe. Use one teaspoon milk for two eggs in a bowl, fork the mixture in a semi-circle for two minutes to fluff and aerate, pour in buttered pan on low heat, add seasoning, and, as the eggs cook, push the solidified eggs to the center to make room for the uncooked portions. The first morning, my heat was too high and I found myself with a flat disk of eggs. The second morning, while paying extreme close attention, the eggs were perfect: fluffy, soft, perfectly salted and peppered and fresh.

I've perfected one personal recipe, but my quest is just beginning. I decided to spice up my grilled cheese yesterday by frying a patty of tofu in oil and Sriracha (OK, I still have my stand-by ingredients) and layering it within the cheese. Delicious! My next project will be rosemary potatoes, perfectly seasoned, crispy and golden brown.

The Love and Lust of Fast Food W4

My fast food history is probably like many other middle-class suburban youth: if your parents weren't explicitly against fast food, chances are you ate a lot of it.

For my sister and I, the off-chance of Mom swinging into the McDonald's parking lot after getting picked up from day-care became the most exciting part of the day. This happened on especially long days when she was too tired and hungry to cook. The Golden Arches were a permanent fixture on the skyline since I can remember, and we were fascinated by the bright colors of the Happy Meal toys and the dining room, the strange beeping and commotion in the kitchen, and the delicious smell of salty french fries pulled out of hot oil. As a kid, visiting McDonald's was liberating. Their advertising catered directly to kids, our mother allowed us to make our own food choices, and if we had time, we'd scramble through the Play-place and ball pit after eating.

Even as children, we had no illusions that fast food was healthy, but thinking back, these reasons are probably why fast food has become such a popular option in America.

First, advertising to children is a surefire way to make parents spend money. If a kid knows they have both Chicken McNuggets and Power Ranger toys at a restaurant, they'll ask for it all the time. It's no mystery that despite having no income, children have massive buying power. American parents love to make their kids happy, especially if it's as cheap as a value meal.

Second, Americans love novelty, and fast food chains operate like gum-ball machines. The inside of a McDonald's kitchen looks nothing like the one in your home. It's filled with blinking lights, beeping timers, strange cubbies and compartments and futuristic grills and deep fryers. Although we've been taught this is not the way food should be prepared, it can't be taken for granted that ordering fast food is a minor miracle: a minute after the clerk punches your meal choice into the digital cash register, it's sitting on a tray in front of you, steaming and ready to eat. This is saying nothing of the joy of the drive-through. Not only is fast food delicious, it's engineered to be fun.

Third, fast food is the embodiment of convenience. Americans are obsessed with busyness and packing the most they can into their schedules. Whereas many European societies value personal enjoyment and leisure time, the American mentality follows that the more rushed and hurried you are, the more you're pulling your weight. Unfortunately, this isn't a choice one can opt in and out of; we had a single mother working long hours to support a lean budget. For us and those like us, fast food was often the only available choice when the kids are starving, you haven't had time to grocery shop, and there's nothing substantial in the fridge.

I've never been much farther than Canada, so I can't comment on fast food overseas. Yet here in America, McDonalds is one of our national traditions. Despite fast food's health drawbacks, it is rooted deep in our culture, and I think it's unlikely we'll soon rid ourselves of it.

Let's go to that American place! W3

Opening an American restaurant in Germany would be tough. Because of the sheer size of the U.S., there is massive differentiation between recipes and styles of cooking. There are major flavor differences from food on the West and East, North and South, and regional differences in between. Yet, if a German were to talk into my American restaurant, I'd want to serve them only the tastiest, most unique American dishes. To do that, I'd need to get a bit of everything, from all different parts of the country.

Soul food is a high priority on my menu, because when I think of American food, my mind drifts to the South. I'd serve fried chicken, barbeque ribs, corn on the cob, corn bread, plenty of greens like okra and collards, and maybe fried green tomatoes. Of course, much of these foods are fried, but it wouldn't be American without a little artery clogging.

The East Coast has a delicious variety of seafood. To be geographically fair to the whole of the U.S., I'd certainly have a section of Maine lobster, New England clam chowder, baked clams, shrimp and fillets of salmon. I would also include Southern seafood recipes like shrimp and crawfish gumbo.

There is definitely room on the menu for Tex-Mex dishes like chicken and rice, nachos, bean dips, quesadillas and spicy, southwestern chili. Although it could be argued these dishes are from Mexican origin, America is a melting pot, and we've done a good deal to make them our own.

For dessert, my restaurant would serve hot apple pie a la mode, with a cup of black coffee. I feel a German would leave this restaurant feeling full, to say the least, and hopefully with a new impression of American food.

Friendly Food W2

I first met my chef friend Charlie when he and I shared a hallway in the dorms. I was a sophomore at the time and he a freshman. We crossed paths while both of us were blasting punk records in our tiny single rooms; Charlie popped his head in my door and we realized we had a lot in common.

Before that, I always noticed the strange smells of food coming from his room into the hallway. Charlie had the strangest diet: some days he'd go to the farmer's market and make delicious homemade salsa (which he generously shared) and some days he'd eat raw spaghetti. We became close friends and eventually played in a band together, but he moved back home after Spring Quarter and decided to stay in Cleveland. There he found work at a café and restaurant, and started to hone his cooking skills.

In a positive turn of events, Charlie moved back to Athens earlier this month. He's back playing bass in our band, and he started work at a restaurant uptown baking breads and pastries. I tried his focaccia bread and blueberry muffins, and both were delicious.

Last week, Charlie came over to cook us up some food. It was past midnight, but everyone in the house was starving. Charlie raided our cupboards, pulling out forgotten produce and spices. We chopped up heaps of potatoes, onions, and peppers, fried them in a skillet, then threw them in a casserole dish with chopped mushrooms and herbs. We joked and caught up with old times while our dish baked, and when it was done, we ate half and saved the rest for lunches. Charlie still eats raw spaghetti, but I have a feeling he's going to be a great chef.

A Thanksgiving Memory, W1

For my first post, I'd like to share with you a fond food memory of my first remembered Thanksgiving.

My great aunt and uncle in Cleveland had the honors that year of holding the feast. I was four years old and just another of the little cousins in their Sunday-best seated at the crowded kids' table. I was starved to death but waiting patiently with my hands folded in my lap, staring at the shelves of horse figurines that lined the walls of the dining room.

The house was buzzing: Uncle was roaming the house in a cowboy hat and bolo tie, shaking hands and kissing cheeks. I remember the high cackles of the women cooking in the kitchen and the guffaws of the men sitting in the living room around the wood-paneled black and white television. The kids table was all shouting and giggles, pigtails and awkward hair-parts. The kitchen door swung open and our babbling stopped.

My aunt's pungent perfume wafted around my eyes as she circled the table, dishing out an armload of heaping styrofoam plates. I got a slab of white turkey touching the mashed potatoes and covered in gravy, crispy brown stuffing, sweet red cranberry sauce and assorted fruit pieces suspended in green jello. All I remember is the taste of the jello; it was delicious.