Simple food
Lately, I've become enamored with simple foods.
I've spent all summer drooling over luscious recipes, and for years I've eagerly devoured Cooks Illustrated recipes, with their delicious detailing of recipe construction.
But after laboriously -- though, usually, successfully -- completing several such recipes, I realized that I have a lot more fun and end up with a lot less frustration when I prepare dishes that require little more than general guidelines, and which are simply cooked and seasoned.
Part of this change in perspective is due, I think, to my reliance on my family to eat what I cook, since most of what I like to cook are items...a bit beyond my diet (think: very rich, heavy, decadent). This leads to frustration on my part when leftovers aren't eaten, or when I get complaints about the food, or even when appreciation isn't expressed.
I've also discovered that if I prepare food for the family -- even if it's been specially requested -- I can't count on anyone to help me with cleanup. Sure, my dad will always help with dishes, but he always ends up cleaning up after everyone in the kitchen, and I don't think that's fair. My sister insists on only cleaning *her* dishes and the implements *she* uses for cooking. And it's difficult getting my mom to help with anything. Now I have a taste of what parents go through on an everyday basis - ha! Simple food just requires less effort all around, which prevents burnout and frustration.
But simple food has also grown on me as a culinary philosophy. I adore the idea of buying the best, freshest ingrediants possible and preparing them very simply so that each element of the dish shines through, and so that the essential flavor of each ingrediant is distinctive.
I had my first real revelation about this sort of food when I first ate breakfast grits at Zingerman's. Here's the description from their menu: "Anson Mills organic corn, sun-dried & stone-ground. Cooked in our kitchen and dressed with sea salt, black Tellicherry pepper & plenty of farm butter." It is an absolute *revelation.* Each ingredient is of impeccable quality, and each shines true in this simple, subtle dish. It's the kind of dish that best rewards the cook who uses the best ingredients possible.
Now, admittedly...I can't afford the best ingredients possible. It's a great idea, for those who can, but in this economy? Nope.
"Highest-quality ingredients simply prepared" has been the Big Thing with foodies in recent years, replacing complex recipes and fancy techniques as the Holy Grail of food enthusiasts ("snobs"?). The "highest-quality ingredients" part is pretty important; it fundamentally separates the intellectual foodies from the poor and from those who care little about food. The quality of the ingredients give foodies distinct and delightful tasting notes to revel over.
But I've found that I love simple food even without high-quality ingredients. I love supermarket vegetables sauteed in garlic, balsamic, and cheap wine. I love cauliflower and tomatoes and eggplant (again, all supermarket) roasted with a sprinkling of herbs, chili and pepper). I love fluffy brown rice with lentils cooked in chicken broth and mixed with dried herbs, mushrooms, and canned diced tomatoes. And the best snack ever is a big bowl of steamed cauliflower/broccoli/asparagus/carrots/green beans with mustard, lemon juice, and pepper, with a few crumbled walnuts or almonds.
It's a matter of training one's palatte, I think. Lowering the salt and sugar in one's diet makes one more tuned in to the inherent flavor of things (and, hopefully, more appreciative). I didn't set out with this goal in mind, and - I admit - I'm not sure I'd be able to do this deliberately. But it has been very convenient, because it makes my diet easier to stick to and allows me to eat less expensively (yes, I currently eat all the fresh fruits and vegetables I can get away with, but I'm also very happy with the cheaper, frozen variety).
I've spent all summer drooling over luscious recipes, and for years I've eagerly devoured Cooks Illustrated recipes, with their delicious detailing of recipe construction.
But after laboriously -- though, usually, successfully -- completing several such recipes, I realized that I have a lot more fun and end up with a lot less frustration when I prepare dishes that require little more than general guidelines, and which are simply cooked and seasoned.
Part of this change in perspective is due, I think, to my reliance on my family to eat what I cook, since most of what I like to cook are items...a bit beyond my diet (think: very rich, heavy, decadent). This leads to frustration on my part when leftovers aren't eaten, or when I get complaints about the food, or even when appreciation isn't expressed.
I've also discovered that if I prepare food for the family -- even if it's been specially requested -- I can't count on anyone to help me with cleanup. Sure, my dad will always help with dishes, but he always ends up cleaning up after everyone in the kitchen, and I don't think that's fair. My sister insists on only cleaning *her* dishes and the implements *she* uses for cooking. And it's difficult getting my mom to help with anything. Now I have a taste of what parents go through on an everyday basis - ha! Simple food just requires less effort all around, which prevents burnout and frustration.
But simple food has also grown on me as a culinary philosophy. I adore the idea of buying the best, freshest ingrediants possible and preparing them very simply so that each element of the dish shines through, and so that the essential flavor of each ingrediant is distinctive.
I had my first real revelation about this sort of food when I first ate breakfast grits at Zingerman's. Here's the description from their menu: "Anson Mills organic corn, sun-dried & stone-ground. Cooked in our kitchen and dressed with sea salt, black Tellicherry pepper & plenty of farm butter." It is an absolute *revelation.* Each ingredient is of impeccable quality, and each shines true in this simple, subtle dish. It's the kind of dish that best rewards the cook who uses the best ingredients possible.
Now, admittedly...I can't afford the best ingredients possible. It's a great idea, for those who can, but in this economy? Nope.
"Highest-quality ingredients simply prepared" has been the Big Thing with foodies in recent years, replacing complex recipes and fancy techniques as the Holy Grail of food enthusiasts ("snobs"?). The "highest-quality ingredients" part is pretty important; it fundamentally separates the intellectual foodies from the poor and from those who care little about food. The quality of the ingredients give foodies distinct and delightful tasting notes to revel over.
But I've found that I love simple food even without high-quality ingredients. I love supermarket vegetables sauteed in garlic, balsamic, and cheap wine. I love cauliflower and tomatoes and eggplant (again, all supermarket) roasted with a sprinkling of herbs, chili and pepper). I love fluffy brown rice with lentils cooked in chicken broth and mixed with dried herbs, mushrooms, and canned diced tomatoes. And the best snack ever is a big bowl of steamed cauliflower/broccoli/asparagus/carrots/green beans with mustard, lemon juice, and pepper, with a few crumbled walnuts or almonds.
It's a matter of training one's palatte, I think. Lowering the salt and sugar in one's diet makes one more tuned in to the inherent flavor of things (and, hopefully, more appreciative). I didn't set out with this goal in mind, and - I admit - I'm not sure I'd be able to do this deliberately. But it has been very convenient, because it makes my diet easier to stick to and allows me to eat less expensively (yes, I currently eat all the fresh fruits and vegetables I can get away with, but I'm also very happy with the cheaper, frozen variety).