Saturday, February 17, 2007

Flavors From My Childhood: Part 2

I now continue with Flavors from my Childhood, focusing on dishes from the mother. The mother has never been that interested in the culinary arts. She’ll tell you she hates cooking; however, she probably hated my attitude when my blood sugar would fall even more. The mother has a more traditional approach to cooking.

1. Tuna Casserole: This dish is a family favorite. Apparently my father hated this dish when he and my mother were together, but all the children loved it. This used to be my favorite mother-dish, but my preferences have gone the way of my father’s. This concoction consists of egg noodles, Velveeta, milk, canned tuna, and peas. When I ate this, I also liked to add hot pepper juice and lots of black pepper. May be the reason I liked it so much was that I never actually tasted it; I just liked the taste of pepper juice and black pepper. May be it is my disdain for milk and Velveeta, but I lost my taste for tuna casserole. It remains a favorite of my brothers.

2. Chicken and Dumplings: During the height of my tuna casserole craze, my older brother’s favorite dish was chicken and dumplings. This would probably rank among my current favorites, not just for the taste, but because I now have some idea of the labor that goes into it. Pressure cook one chicken (personally, I’d roast it), strip the meat off the bones, add meat, chicken stock, some other stuff, and uncooked biscuit dough, and voila. Dinnertime became tense when this dish was prepared. We were like ravenous soviet youths spying on each other, making sure that none of us was fishing for dumplings as we filled our bowls. Fishing was a huge faux pas in my mother’s house. Both she and my stepfather tended to prepare dishes that begged for fishing. Perhaps they were trying to teach us some lesson by putting the children in these awkward positions. We’d all sit down to the table and eye each other’s bowls, counting the number of dumplings to ourselves. About the labor: I roast chickens from time to time to make my own soup or chicken stock. I can tell you that a chicken retains its heat for a long time after cooking. You can let it sit a half hour and the thighs and breast will still threaten to burn off your fingerprints. Now, there is no way that my mother, an enemy of the kitchen, was going to spend any unnecessary time cooking, so I know that she did not let that bird cool before stripping it. I can’t help but think that she must harbor some resentment toward us for always wanting such a painful dish.

3. Breakfast: A favorite dinnertime mother-dish was breakfast. Who says that you can’t have the fattiest, tastiest meal at night? Biscuits and sausage gravy (the best part of which was being allowed to pop open the tube containing the biscuits), fried potatoes, chicken fried steak, eggs, etc., were common dinner fare. Oats and cream of wheat were personal favorites (see blog on oats below). It sounds so wrong, but it tasted so right. To this day I will still eat oats for dinner with a slice of slice of toast to scoop up the first few bites from the bowl.

4. Pot Roast: Again, here is a dish that remains a family favorite. I admit, there was a time when I did enjoy this dish, but it was not so much for the piece of meat that had been pressure cooked to hell as it was for the accoutrements: carrots and onions boiled in the beef water. I savored those grayish orange carrot spears and slurped up the translucent onion slivers as though they were from the kitchen of a 3-star Michelin restaurant. Gravy of a brown variety usually was used to drown this dish and reconstitute the beef.

5. Blueberry Cheesecake: A graham cracker crust, canned blueberries, and some Philadelphia cream cheese somehow conspired with my mother to create this dessert. Yet another crowd-pleaser.

6. Brownies and Blueberry Muffins: These are the best things my mother didn’t cook for me. She would leave a fraction of the batter uncooked for me because I preferred my brownies and muffins extra rare. I’d get the mixing bowl and beaters generously caked with tasty, gooey, doughiness. Who says the middle child is the most neglected?!

Meals at the mother-table were typically served with water or iced tea so sweet, you gulped it down as quickly as possible for fear that it might dissolve your teeth.

Friday, February 16, 2007

Flavors From My Childhood: Part 1

My recent entry on oats has made me want to recount other memorable comestibles from my early years. Being a child of divorce, I was exposed to a diverse array of dishes. I will not include in my selection dishes that I got at restaurants. There are many of those, seeing as I was raised mostly by a single father. I’ll divide things up into two categories: dishes from the father and dishes from the mother. In a later entry, I will cover dishes from the mother. The reader will note the astonishing difference in character between the two cooking styles.

Dishes from the Father (in no particular order):

1. Super _____: Prefixing the title of any dish with the adjective ‘super’ meant that whatever food was denoted by the term filling the blank was probably covered in Wolf Brand Chili and shredded cheese. The most often served “super” dishes were Super Chili and Super Hot Dogs. I grew up in Oklahoma where it is customary to cover everything with chili. How I miss the chili cheese burgers at Goldie’s in Tulsa.

Super Chili was a bowl of Wolf Brand Chili (no beans) covered with melted, shredded, yellow cheese. Adding to the super character of this dish was the layer of crushed crackers at the bottom of the bowl. Seeing as it was the crackers that got the chili and cheese, This dish would be more aptly titled “Super Crackers”. Sometimes slices of cheese were embedded in the chili, which was nice. You’d get a spoonful of chili and find a huge, thick glob of melted cheese. Super Chili, while filling, is not a particularly exciting dish.

Now, it was special time when it was Super Hot Dog night. Imagine two plump franks, usually microwaved, atop a buttered and toasted open-faced hot dog bun. Slather them in Wolf Brand Chili (no beans) and melted shredded yellow cheese and what you have is nothing short of a heart attack masquerading as perfection. People laugh when I tell them about this delicacy, but it is a culinary feat no Oklahoman can pass up.

2. Mexican Squash: I don’t know what this was, but it seemed that no matter how many times I told my father I hated squash, he continued to serve it.

3. Strange Macaroni Dish (SMD): I cannot recall the exact name for this dish, though it did have one. Now, mind you, this will sound a bit disgusting, but I ate it up like there was no tomorrow. This treat consisted of usually overcooked noodles (kids don’t like it al dente), melted Velveeta (note, Velveeta is NOT a cheese), and Hunt’s tomato paste. The acidity of the tomato nicely balanced with the Velveeta, often sending me back for seconds. SMD was typically a side dish.

4. Spaghetti: Now my father will tell you that his spaghetti is from some family recipe, but don’t believe it. Spaghetti nights were very frequent until the Hasty Bake smoker joined the family and steaks became regular fare. Here’s how you make the father’s spaghetti: go to the grocery store, get some ground round (preferably frozen, if not, then you have to freeze prior to preparation), one of those green boxes of Kraft spaghetti mix, take it home and follow the directions pretty much, except brown the meat (while it is still frozen). Follow the directions for making the sauce, but do it in the same pan as the browned beef. Serve with the noodles that come included in the green box (which I loved to eat raw), cover in melted shredded yellow cheese (not Velveeta), and enjoy. I never complained about spaghetti night, especially if there was a lot of cheese involved.

5. Steak night: As mentioned before, my father acquired a large Hasty Bake smoker/grill. Dinner was never the same, but it, strangely, never differed. Let me explain. I conjecture that at some point my father got a significant promotion, as the Hamburger Helper meals became less frequent and steak dinners became the typical weekend night fixins. And there was the Hasty Bake. Steak night, as I remember it, usually consisted of a giant filet mignon wrapped in bacon and smoked with apple wood or cherry. The dish was a tasty, albeit bloody, mess. A baked potato (which became stained pink with blood by the time you finished your meat) usually accompanied the steak and some steamed vegetable, most often asparagus, brussel sprouts, or broccoli. Through these dinners I learned to love veggies that most kids would slip to the dog under the table.


I’ll add, lastly, that all dishes were served with a cup of water, on green plates.

Thursday, February 15, 2007

Injustice

I'm not much on posting activism blogs, but a very timely dream last night about my friend Janet Danahey made me want to scribble down a little something. It has been 5 years since Janet was locked away.

Her sentence: life without parole.
Her conviction: 4 counts of first degree murder.

I will post a link, for those of you who are interested in reading about the story, so I'll not go into the details. The skinny of it is that she played a prank that got out of hand. She ignited a box of christmas decorations and a futon on the patio of an ex-bf's apartment early in the morning on Feb 15, 2002. The fire got out of hand and the entire apartment building burned. 4 young people died. Because of North Carolina's Felony Murder Rule, according to which if someone dies while you are in the act of committing a felony (in this case, arson), then you are automatically charged with 1st degree murder for the death of the person, Janet was convicted of 4 counts of first degree murder.

The Felony Murder Rule ties the hands of judges who might otherwise attend to particular facts about the case, e.g., that the deaths were *not* premeditated, that Janet was a university graduate who was active in the community, etc.

Recently there was a similar case at Seton Hall University where two undergraduates, also playing a stupid prank, set a fire that got out of hand. 3 people died. 1 was badly burned. I should also add that there is a Felony Murder Rule in New Jersey, where Seton Hall University is located.

Their sentence: 5 years a piece with possibility of parole in 16 months.
Their conviction: arson (murder charges were dropped)

Whose sentence is unjust? Whose conviction is the appropriate one? Are either just or appropriate? Should not comparable wrongdoings receive comparable punishment? Janet is no more of a murderer than these two men. Granted, 16 months seems a bit on the lean side of a sentence, but life without parole for someone who is a first-time offender and who did not intend to harm anyone seems especially egregious.

Janet's Case

Seton Hall Case

Tuesday, February 13, 2007

Dems-good-oats

I've always loved oats. In fact, I just finished a heaping bowl of oatmeal and I feel toasty, cozy, and good. Since I was a child my mother would cook oatmeal and cream of wheat for me. A bit of sugar, cream, and butter and before you is steamy goodness. I know many people who do not like oats, but I don't get it. But my most recent bowl (about 2 minutes ago) sent me on a quest to answer the following question: what is the difference between traditional and instant oats? My oaty friends tend to gravitate toward the instant variety, but I've always been a traditional kind of guy, nothing too fancy for me. It turns out that instant oats are better for cookies because they do not take as long to cook, but otherwise are inferior. They are cut up, thin, and not as chewy as the traditional oats. I don't believe they are any less nutritious (especially if prepared without the additives I mentioned above), but you are cheating yourself by gulping down a mushy mash. Non-instant, rolled oats are much more flavorful than instant oats and they have a delightful texture. Instant oats do take about 30 seconds to make (just add microwaved or boiling water) while traditional oats take about 5 minutes to prepare. But trust me, that additional 4 and a half minutes is worth every second when it comes time to chow down.

Up Oats!