Category Archives: food history

Modified Cobb salad platter
american cuisine, food history, recipes

Cobb Salad: A Cold Main Course for Hot Weather

1000 Foods (pg. 547) for information, recipe is my own creation

            This upcoming weekend is supposed to be hot. At times like these, most people don’t want to heat up the kitchen by turning the oven on. Grilling, quick-cooking pasta, and stir-fry are all popular options for home cooks, as are a variety of cold salads.

            Supposedly, cobb salad was invented in California in the 1930s as a way to use up leftovers. Turning leftovers into salads was just as common then as now, though inexplicably this often involved mayonnaise and/or gelatin. Thankfully, cobb salad avoided this in favor of a vinaigrette flavored with lemon juice, Worcestershire sauce, and garlic. Original ingredients included hard-boiled eggs, blue cheese, chicken, bacon, avocado, and tomatoes, presented in rows for a striped effect.

            Inevitably, cobb salad’s popularity in Hollywood spread the recipe nationwide, with some variations. Since avocados were harder to find outside California, they were frequently omitted, and sometimes other diced ingredients like ham were added. Shredded cheese might replace the blue cheese, and some cooks might use the mayonnaise-based dressings popular at the time.

            For my own recipe, I made three adjustments. Since I don’t like boiled eggs or blue cheese, I replaced them with feta and lentils. The French-style green lentils I found at Woodman’s were particularly good, with an almost meaty flavor. And I omitted the tomatoes because they are not yet in season fresh.

            The final result was a mix of chicken, avocados, bacon, feta cheese, lentils, and romaine lettuce with a flavorful vinaigrette. All the different textures and flavors contrasted well with each other, and the platter was just so pretty.

            Ingredients:

  • 1 head romaine lettuce, washed and torn into bite-sized pieces
  • About 1 pound boneless skinless chicken breasts or thighs, cooked, cooled, and cut into cubes
  • About 8 oz feta or blue cheese
  • About 8 oz bacon, sliced across the grain into roughly 1-inch pieces, cooked, drained, and cooled
  • 1 cup French-style green lentils (I used Bob’s Red Mill brand) cooked and cooled, or a few chopped hard-boiled eggs
  • 2 ripe avocados, halved, seeded, and cut into cubes
  • Sliced ripe tomatoes, if in season
  • Juice of ½ lemon
  • 1 tbsp red or white wine vinegar
  • 4 tbsp olive oil
  • 1 or 2 cloves garlic, peeled and crushed with the side of a knife
  • A few dashes Worcestershire sauce
  • Salt and pepper to taste

            Directions:

  1. For the dressing: combine the lemon juice, vinegar, olive oil, garlic, Worcestershire sauce, salt, and pepper in a bowl and beat together with a fork. Let rest for at least an hour to infuse the garlic flavor.
  2. Arrange the remaining ingredients either on a platter or individual plates. Rows are the most traditional, but feel free to let your creativity run wild.
  3. Remove the garlic cloves from the dressing. Whisk the dressing and pour over the salad before the liquids separate. Serve.

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food history, french cuisine, recipes

Using Up the Wine: Oeufs en Meurette (eggs poached in red wine)

1000 Foods (pg. 106) for information, recipe is my own creation

            After making the beef burgundy, I had about a third of a bottle of the wine left over. Not wanting to waste it but not really wanting to drink it either (too dry), I chose to make another dish from the French region of Burgundy: oeufs en meurette. These are basically eggs poached in a mix of wine, beef broth, and aromatics, which is then reduced to form a sauce. The eggs are served with toast to soak up the sauce and runny yolks, and are often garnished with sauteed onions or mushrooms.

            Even though I don’t usually like poached eggs, this was really good. The egg yolks blended into the sauce once the eggs were cut, making their runniness less apparent. All the butter, to toast the bread, sauté the mushrooms, and make roux to thicken the sauce probably helped too. The leftover sauce was even better with scrambled eggs. As an extra garnish, I added some kale, which holds up next to the hot ingredients much better than lettuce.

Ingredients:

  • 4 pieces thick-cut bacon, cut into matchsticks across the grain
  • 1 shallot, peeled, crushed with a chef’s knife, and minced
  • 2 cloves garlic, peeled, crushed with a chef’s knife, and minced
  • 1 cup red burgundy or other pinot noir (you don’t need an expensive bottle, mid or even medium-low priced is fine)
  • 2 bay leaves, broken in half
  • ½ teaspoon dried thyme or 1 ½ teaspoons fresh
  • Minced fresh parsley, if desired
  • 1 cup beef broth
  • 4 eggs
  • 1 tbsp softened butter, plus enough to coat skillet
  • 1 tbsp flour
  • 8 oz sliced mushrooms
  • 2 pieces thickly sliced white bread, such as Texas toast

            Directions:

  1. Brown the bacon over medium-low heat in a medium saucepan until enough fat has been rendered to coat the bottom. Add the shallots and cook until soft. Then add the garlic and cook until it takes on some color.
  2. Add the wine, bay leaves, and thyme to the saucepan and scrape the bottom with a rubber spatula. Add the broth and parsley, salt and pepper to taste, and bring to a simmer.
  3. Meanwhile, make a paste with a tablespoon each of butter and flour.
  4. Melt enough butter in the skillet to coat it, and brown the toast to the desired color over medium heat. Place each piece in a wide individual serving bowl.
  5. Add more butter to the skillet if needed along with the mushrooms. Salt and pepper to taste. Cook over medium-low heat, stirring occasionally, while you poach the eggs and reduce the sauce.
  6. Break the eggs into a bowl, and if strands of egg white in the sauce bother you, hold each in a fine-mesh strainer for a few seconds to let the loose part of the white drain.
  7. Carefully add the eggs to the wine and broth mixture, stirring gently. Poach just until the whites are firm, then remove them with a slotted spoon and place two over each piece of toast.
  8. Turn the heat up to medium, and add the butter and flour paste to the poaching liquid. Cook, stirring frequently, until the sauce is slightly thickened.
  9. Ladle sauce over each serving, adding mushrooms for garnish. If desired, you can also add some greens or parsley.

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food history, french cuisine, stew

Classic Julia Child: Boeuf Bourguignon

1000 Foods (pgs. 60 – 62), recipe found in text

            For centuries, from the 17th to the mid-20th and even beyond, French cuisine has had a stuffy, high-class reputation outside of France. The fanciest restaurants were almost all French, and they served elaborate, haute-cuisine creations that most home cooks would never attempt. Julia Child did more than any other English-language author to popularize French middle-class and provincial dishes. Even high-class French restaurants jumped on the bandwagon, often with a bit of fancying up.

            Perhaps the most famous Julia Child dish of all is boeuf bourguignon, a beef stew starring the Burgundy region’s famous red wine. Low, slow cooking tenderizes economical beef cuts like chuck while creating a rich gravy. Even more flavor comes from onions, shallots, garlic, mushrooms, parsley, thyme, and dried orange peel. The recipe does take a bit more prep work and finessing than the typical American or British beef stew, separately cooking the onions, mushrooms, and bacon before adding them to the pot, but none of it is very difficult. Just set aside enough time, particularly for marinating the meat.

            Along with Bordeaux in the southwest, the area of Burgundy in the east has been one of France’s most prestigious wine regions since the Middle Ages. Vineyards there produce some of the most expensive pinot noir in the world, along with more affordable wine. The recipe calls for a good but not extravagant red burgundy. Since the local grocery store didn’t have French burgundy, I got a bottle of California pinot noir. Supposedly the vines were started with cuttings from Burgundy, and it was under $20 but not the absolute cheapest option. In other words, mid-priced by flyover country standards, and there was some leftover to serve with the stew.

            The French region of Burgundy has a long and complicated political history. Sandwiched between France and the Holy Roman Empire, wealthy and powerful Burgundy was often either fully or partially independent. Throughout the Middle Ages, the dukes there had a love-hate relationship with the kings of France and caused them all sorts of headaches. During the Hundred Years’ War, King Jean II granted the duchy to his youngest son Philippe the Bold. Through his own and his son’s marriages, the duke of Burgundy gained control of the Flanders, Holland, Brabant, and Hainaut in the Low Countries.

            For much of the 15th Century, the dukes of Burgundy were almost as powerful as the French kings themselves. Due to a conflict over who got to act as regent whenever Charles VI experienced an episode of psychosis, which happened almost annually, for months at a time, over a 30-year period, Burgundy ended up siding with the English for part of the Hundred Years’ War. Without their help, Henry V of England would probably not have had such spectacular success, and Burgundy’s later return to French allegiance helped turn the tide back toward France once and for all. Meanwhile, the dukes of Burgundy had one of the most dazzling courts in Europe.

            Burgundy’s rise was stopped abruptly when Duke Charles the Bold was killed in battle without a male heir in 1477. Louis XI of France seized his French territories, but his attempt to take Flanders and force Charles’ daughter Marie to marry his own son, the future Charles VIII, backfired. Burgundy and the Holy Roman Emperor Frederick III had previously worked together to counter Louis XI, to the point of negotiating a marriage between his Marie and Frederick’s son Maximilian. For political reasons, and since the future Charles VIII was only 8 years old while Maximilian was 18, the 20-year-old Marie chose the latter. Their son later married the daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella, bringing the Habsburgs to Spain and leading to three more centuries of conflict with France.

            This dish is a good project for a day off work, when you can take your time and enjoy the process. Boeuf bourguignon, or beef burgundy, is also a great dish for entertaining, and not just because it can be made ahead. It makes you seem classy without breaking the bank. And the taste is a revelation. Beef burgundy is probably one of the best dishes I’ve made so far. The flavors of beef, wine, onions, and mushrooms all blend together in perfect harmony.

            Mimi Sheraton recommends serving it with little potatoes, tossed with butter and parsley after cooking. Since this was already a special meal, I added two more items. A simple green salad is a nice fresh contrast, and with the amount of flavorful gravy, you definitely want bread to soak it up. Naturally, since this is a French dish, a crusty baguette is the way to go.

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food history, italian cuisine

Cook’s Tour of Italy Menu 15 (Pgs. 62 – 66): Menu for 8, La Foce

Region: Tuscany

Menu: Cantaloupe with Prosciutto, Lasagnette with Meat Sauce, Fennel and Watercress Salad, Orange Ring Cake

Recommended Wine: Vino Nobile de Montepulciano (like Chianti, but with some white grapes mixed in with the red)

            Believe it or not, at one time, doctors thought melons were unhealthy and even dangerous. During the Middle Ages and Renaissance, raw produce in general was mistrusted. In the 15th and 16th Centuries, when salads and beautifully-arranged platters of fresh fruit became fashionable, doctors freaked out, thinking the trend would make their patients sick. People did sometimes get sick after eating fresh, raw fruit, but the problem wasn’t the fruit itself. Most likely, the water used to wash it was contaminated, or cooks didn’t adequately clean their work surfaces.

            Melons were even implicated in the death of a 15th Century pope. The story goes that in July 1471, Pope Paul II ate two large melons, and died shortly thereafter. Sources don’t say what kind of melons they were, what was meant by large (most fruits and vegetables were smaller at the time), or the timeframe they were eaten over. Since Rome gets really hot in July and this was before air conditioning, His Holiness probably found them refreshing, and may not have had much appetite for other food. If that was the case, eating two melons the size of small modern cantaloupes over the course of a hot day sort of makes sense.

Delicious treat, or heartless killer?

            Supposedly, cantaloupes originated in either Persia (modern Iran) or Armenia before being brought to the Mediterranean. Regardless of what doctors thought, people living there, especially Italians, went crazy for them. During the hot summer months, when melons were at their peak, people found them irresistible. Supposedly, eating them with a bit of salty ham or some wine reduced the risk, which is where melon and prosciutto came from. Personally, I think prosciutto is stringy and overpriced, so had the melon plain. It was good as always, but was definitely different as an appetizer.

            The name “lasagnette” suggests a miniature lasagna, but this recipe filled a full pan. Like the Bologna-style lasagna, this one used a ragu with a high proportion of meat to tomato, bechamel sauce, and parmesan cheese. I think there must have been a typo in the bechamel recipe. It calls for one cup flour to three of milk. At that ratio, a sticky dough-like substance forms, not a sauce. It was salvageable with extra milk, whisking, and straining the lumps out, but it probably would have been easier to restart with a different bechamel recipe. Everything else with the lasagna went smoothly, and it was quite tasty, but I still prefer the mozzarella and ricotta version. Maybe if I made my own pasta dough instead of purchasing it, I would feel differently.

Instrument of fraud

            The fennel and watercress made for a fascinating combination. Supposedly, Medieval Florentine wine merchants would give potential buyers fennel to snack on, hoping it would overwhelm their taste buds and make wine faults less noticeable. Here the sweet, licorice-like flavor served no such nefarious purpose. The watercress was distinctly peppery, much like arugula, which was a nice contrast with the fennel.

As the author says, the secret is the syrup. And the whipped cream.

            Everything was good, but the orange ring cake was incredible. The cake itself is flavored with grated orange peel, which seems to be popular in Italian recipes. The juice, meanwhile, goes into a syrup with lemon juice, which gets drizzled on the hot cake after baking. It was delicious, and would probably be even better if holes were poked in the cake first to let the syrup soak in more. Whipped cream was a delightful contrast to the sweet and tart flavor, in a fascinating change of pace from regular chocolate and yellow cakes. Not that there’s anything wrong with those, especially with fluffy homemade chocolate frosting, but the orange cake was delicious and pretty.

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american cuisine, food history, recipes

Kentucky Derby Treat: Benedictine Dip/Spread

Benedictine sandwiches to enjoy during the Kentucky Derby

            The Saturday before last, a lot of people who don’t normally follow horse racing tuned into the Kentucky Derby. Personally, I like to see all the brightly-colored suits and over-the-top hats that aren’t worn anywhere else. And of course, the segments on the food, both at Churchill Downs and elsewhere. Hot brown sandwiches, strawberries and cream, chocolate walnut pie, and most of all mint juleps are associated with the first leg of the Triple Crown.

            So is benedictine, which has evolved a bit over the decades. At first, it was cream cheese flavored with onion and cucumber juice, maybe colored with green food coloring, served between white bread triangles as tea sandwiches. Supposedly, the name comes from the green color, which was similar to an herbal liqueur made by Benedictine monks in France. Modern recipes tend to skip the food coloring and use grated cucumbers and onions, not just the juice, and serve the benedictine as a dip.

            My recipe uses the modern approach. The grated cucumber and minced scallions give it a bit of texture, and parsley adds extra freshness and color. Spread it over bread, eat it with crackers, and/or vegetables, or, if you’re feeling fancy, put it in a sandwich with some cucumber slices and channel your inner Downton Abbey character. It’s also a great alternative to mayonnaise or miracle whip on more substantial sandwiches. This recipe is loaded with cucumber and herbs, but if you want a higher proportion of cream cheese, feel free to use two packages, or cut the other ingredients in half.

Note: The easiest way to seed cucumbers is to cut them in half lengthwise after peeling. Then it’s easy to remove the seeds with a spoon. The fresh aroma released in the process is nice too.

Ingredients:

  • 1 8oz package cream cheese, softened
  • 1 medium cucumber, peeled, seeded, grated, and squeezed to remove extra moisture
  • 1 bunch green onions/scallions, minced
  • 1 bunch parsley (I use curly for this recipe, but flat leaf is fine too), minced
  • Pinch salt

Directions:

  1. Beat cream cheese until smooth. Mix in the grated cucumber until evenly combined.
  2. Stir in the minced scallions and parsley, mixing until evenly distributed. Add salt to taste.
  3. Refrigerate for at least an hour, preferably longer, to give flavors time to meld.

Over a few days in the fridge, a bit of extra liquid will probably form in pockets on the dip. This is just liquid from the cucumbers and is nothing to worry about. I prefer to pour it off, but if you want a thinner texture, feel free to mix it back in.

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food history

Foods Not Eaten: Personal Taste Part 2 (Aspics and Miscellaneous)

Meat/Fish Aspics: Boeuf a la Mode en Gelee (beef and vegetables in aspic), Compote de Caille en Gelee (quail in aspic), Oeufs en Gelee (eggs in aspic), Sulze (pork in aspic), Carpe a la Juive/Jedisch Fisch (jellied carp), Gefilte Fish (freshwater fish dumplings in aspic), P’tcha (jellied calf’s foot)

Miscellaneous: Pasta Pagliata (with chopped calf or lamb intestines), Okroshka, Kholodynk, and Botvinia (Russian and Ukrainian cold soups), Tuna Salad Sandwich, Snoek (oily fish), Natto (fermented soybeans)

1000 Foods (pgs. 60, 68, 105 – 106, 314, 430 – 431, 436 – 437, 459 – 460, 219, 416 – 417, 633 – 634, 744, 811)

            For centuries, people have made gelatin by simmering meat and fish scraps. The time and effort necessary to strain and chill it made jellies and aspics high-status foods in the past, but times have changed. Perhaps people are still scarred by midcentury monstrosities full of hot dogs, canned fish, and mayonnaise. There are seven aspic dishes in the book, three French, one German, and three Ashkenazi Jewish. None of them sound appealing. In my mind, aspic seems like a broth or gravy that no one bothered to reheat. Cold soups have the same problem, even if they’re supposed to be cold.

            There are some dishes that, no matter how good they taste, I have trouble eating if they contain certain ingredients. This makes sense for the calf/lamb intestines in pasta pagliata (that’s where it gets its cheesy flavor), but I don’t understand why I have such a problem with ketchup, mayonnaise, and most bottled salad dressings. A dislike of mayonnaise means no tuna salad sandwiches (and the canned fish looks too much like cat food). For ketchup, the issue is so bad that I have trouble eating a dish if I think it might possibly contain ketchup (ex. sweet and sour pork at a buffet). Even watching someone else eating ketchup is difficult. I won’t say anything, but mentally I’m gagging. When I was little, I actually tried to train myself to eat it, but that went about as well as training myself to write with my left hand. That is to say, not well at all.

            Finally, I don’t like most strong-smelling, fermented ingredients. Mimi Sheraton compares the smell of natto, Japanese fermented soybeans, with the notoriously stinky Swedish herring surstromming. That alone is reason enough not to try it. Supposedly, a man in Germany got evicted after spilling a can of surstromming in his apartment hallway. When he took the landlord to court, the landlord won the case by opening a can in the courtroom. Whether the story is true or not, I would rather not risk eviction over fermented soybeans.

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egyptian cuisine, food history, recipes, stew, vegetarian

Egyptian “Tacos”: Ful Medames (fava bean stew)

1000 Foods (pgs. 708 – 709) for information, recipe is my own creation

            There’s no liver or chianti with these fava beans. To be honest, neither sounds appealing. The purpose of the liver is to filter toxins from the body, and supposedly chianti is a fairly dry wine. But fava beans on their own sound much better. Historically, most people across the Mediterranean and Middle East ate a largely vegetarian diet by necessity. Beans of all sorts provided essential protein and vitamins, which brings to mind an interesting story. Supposedly, the Ancient Greek mathematician Pythagoras hated beans but advocated a vegetarian diet. Balanced nutrition would still be possible if eggs and dairy were allowed, but Pythagoras definitely made things more difficult for himself.

            Supposedly, he even thought that beans were evil. Crazy as that probably sounds, there might have been a logical (okay, semi-logical) explanation. A small percentage of people don’t produce a particular enzyme that breaks down a chemical naturally occurring in fava beans. If someone with this gene does eat them, they become ill. Since this gene is most common in people living near the Mediterranean, Pythagoras likely knew a few people who suffered from it. It’s unclear why he decided that other types of beans were also evil, but maybe it was just a phobia. At a time and place where legumes were an essential source of protein, it would have been an unfortunate one.

            Fava beans, also called broad beans, have a long history in Egypt as a staple food, especially for the poor. Sometimes, when prices were high, the government would even subsidize them to ensure they remained affordable. Ful medames, a basic fava bean “porridge,” is often eaten for breakfast with a variety of toppings. The beans can be enhanced with butter, oil, onions, boiled eggs, and/or herbs, depending on what’s available and affordable. It seems like a strange choice for breakfast, but the protein helps keep you full until lunchtime. Some bread provides carbs for balance, as well as a vehicle for soaking up the juice. Pitas are the traditional choice.

            The beans, flavored with garlic and cumin and cooked until partially broken down, come to resemble refried beans. Combined with pita bread and assorted toppings, they bear a distinct resemblance to vegetarian tacos in a way, hence the description. While it’s a bit messy and time-consuming for breakfast, ful medames make a great vegetarian lunch or dinner, filling but fresh. And it’s customizable. Each person can add the toppings they wish.

            Ingredients:

  • 1 large can (about 30 ounces) fava beans, drained and rinsed
  • Water or broth
  • 2 cloves garlic, crushed and minced
  • ½ teaspoon cumin
  • Pinch hot pepper flakes, to taste
  • Salt and pepper to taste
  • Bread for serving (especially pitas, lightly warmed in oven with olive oil and salt)

Toppings (optional):

  • Flaxseed, olive, or untoasted sesame oil, or butter
  • Chopped parsley and/or cilantro
  • Minced onions, raw or sauteed, or scallions
  • Lemon juice
  • Plain yogurt
  • Vegetables (I used radishes and cucumbers), chopped, with vinegar and lemon juice to cover and a pinch of salt, and marinated in refrigerator for a few hours
  • Chopped hard-boiled eggs (I do not like them, but they are a common accompaniment, so enjoy (?) if desired)

            Directions:

  1. Place drained beans, garlic, cumin, and hot pepper flakes in a small to medium saucepan. Add enough water or broth to cover, about 1 ½ cups.
  2. Bring to a soft boil over medium heat, then reduce heat to low and simmer, uncovered, for about 20 minutes, stirring occasionally and gently breaking up the beans.
  3. When the beans have the texture of refried beans, remove from heat and serve in bowls. Pass desired toppings and plenty of bread.
  4. This recipe makes two good-sized servings, but is easy to multiply for larger groups. Make sure to have at least one pita per person.

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food history

Foods Not Eaten: Personal Taste Part 1 (Blue Cheese, Boiled Eggs, and Raw Seafood)

Blue/Funky Cheeses: Stilton, Stinking Bishop, Epoisses de Bourgogne, Fourme d’Ambert, Roquefort, Gorgonzola, Cabrales, Picon Bejes-Tresviso, Kase mit Musik, Liederkranz Cheese

Boiled/Runny Eggs: Aselila (walnut egg salad), Deviled Eggs, Fried Eggs, Pidan (preserved duck egg)

Raw Seafood: The Oysters of Locmariaquer (farmed there or elsewhere in Brittany), Nieuwe Haring (new herring eaten raw), The Fine Art of Oysters (view but not eat), Sild (Scandinavian herring), Pickled Herring, North Atlantic Clams on the Half-Shell

1000 Foods (pgs. 27 – 28, 87, 91, 127 – 128, 195, 257, 298 – 299, 592 – 593, 381, 555 – 556, 571 – 572, 778 – 779, 108 – 109, 155 – 157, 342 – 344, 457 – 458, 604 – 605)

            Everyone has their own personal tastes, so we all have different opinions about what to eat at least once in our lifetimes. For the most part, I trust Mimi Sheraton’s advice on this, but there are a few things I just don’t like. Most notably, there’s strong cheese, hard-cooked egg yolks, runny eggs (usually), raw seafood (usually), meat or fish in gelatin, ketchup, mayonnaise, most bottled salad dressings, or anything with the “wrong” temperature or texture.

            If that sounds familiar, like it might be autism-related, that’s certainly possible. I am, in fact, on the autism spectrum, which might be how I’ve managed to stay obsessed with this project for so many years. It could be a sensory thing, and I do have sensory issues with loud noise and rough/itchy clothing. On the other hand, it could also be a learned behavior. My mom won’t eat most of those things either, except for bottled salad dressing.

            Let’s start with a common aversion: blue or stinky cheese. Even when it’s a type safe to eat, I find visible mold on or in cheese most unappetizing. It isn’t just the appearance. When ground into a burger, blue cheese messes up the taste. That means there’s no point trying Stilton (British), Fourme d’Ambert, Roquefort (both French), Gorgonzola (Italian), Cabrales, or Picon Bejes-Tresviso (both Spanish). Stinky cheeses are also out. No matter how good the flavor is, getting past a “mushroomy,” “barnyard,” or “putrid” (all descriptors used in the text) smell is a tall order. That eliminates four more cheeses: the British stinking bishop, French epoisses de Bourgogne, German kase mit musik, and American Liederkranz.

            For eggs, I don’t like hard-cooked yolks, which smell like sulfur and have a weird texture. Deviling the eggs doesn’t solve either issue, and even looking at egg salad grosses me out. A poached or fried egg is sometimes okay in soup or on a burger or rice bowl, as long as the yolk isn’t cooked hard (texture issue just like hard-boiled eggs), but I don’t usually like runny eggs either. Ideally, they should be scrambled and fully cooked, used in an omelet, quiche, or casserole, or mixed into baked goods. Two exceptions to this rule are Tollhouse chocolate chip cookie dough and my homemade brownie batter. Since I can’t taste the raw eggs, they are no longer gross. And no matter now good the Chinese preserved duck eggs, sometimes called century eggs, are, they look scary.

            The Dutch, Scandinavians, and New York Jewish population seem to like herring, either raw or pickled, but I do not. This might be a partially learned behavior, since my mom hates the smell of seafood (and is actually allergic). Regardless, the idea of eating whole raw herrings, bones, skin, and all, is not appealing. They have a fairly strong, “fishy” flavor, and the texture is off. Oily fish like (presumably) snoek are also too strong. Raw oysters have a slimy texture, and I can’t imagine raw clams being any better. They make a pretty still-life painting, but actually eating them is another story.

            Speaking of oysters in the French region of Brittany, here’s a story our tour director told us on the way back to Paris from Versailles. On a previous tour, most of the group decided to get (raw) oysters in the Breton former pirate city of Saint-Malo, since the area is famous for them. The tour director himself and a handful of people opted for crepes instead. You can probably guess where this is headed. The only people who didn’t get sick were the crepe group. Everyone else was miserable for the next few days. When we got to Saint-Malo a few days later, I went with the safe option. Brittany is also known for buckwheat crepes, with both sweet and savory fillings. The buckwheat crepe with ham, cheese, and egg was delicious and affordable, even in a touristy area. After eating some real food, I could enjoy a few buttery pastries and walk off the calories exploring. Bottom line: unless you really like oysters, stick with the crepes and pastries.

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food history, french cuisine, italian cuisine

Foods Not Eaten: Prohibitive Cost

Poularde en Demi-Deuil (chicken with black truffles), Insalata de Ovoli e Tartufi (oval mushroom and white truffle salad), Risotto Piedmontese (with white truffles)

1000 Foods (pgs. 118, 198, 233)

            You’ll probably notice a theme here. Truffles, particularly from the Perigord region of France and Piedmont region of Italy, are really expensive. There are two reasons for this. First, they are highly sought after. Second, these varieties have resisted all attempts to farm. Truffles generally only grow among the roots of oak and chestnut trees, but not with any predictability. They must be foraged by truffle hunters with trained dogs. Based on the laws of economics, a limited supply plus high demand equals high prices. Truffles’ reputation as an aphrodisiac, whether accurate or not, only increases their allure.

            At one time, truffle hunters used pigs, which are great at sniffing out the elusive fungi, even under several inches of soil. Problem was, pigs also like to eat the truffles, so the industry switched to dogs, who are content with a treat and some petting. Since pigs also disturb the soil when rooting out the truffles, making it harder for the spores to grow new tubers, their use has since been banned in many areas.

            While actual truffles from Perigord and Piedmont are too expensive, especially for a fungus that grows in the dirt, the chocolate variety is another story. Made of chocolate and cream and rolled in cocoa powder, they only resemble the fungus in appearance. The great thing about chocolate truffles, aside from how easy they are to make, is how customizable they are. Dark chocolate orange, milk chocolate mint, white chocolate mocha, rolled in chopped almonds, the possibilities are endless.

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food history, german cuisine, stew

Pre-Potato Winter Stew: Frankischer Grunkern (with green spelt)

1000 Foods (pgs. 288 – 289)

            Imagine, for a moment, that you’re making stew on a cold day. It has beef, onions, carrots, celery, and parsnips, plus some butter and minced bacon to brown the meat and vegetables before adding liquid. Most people would think of adding potatoes at this point, and some cooks do, but they aren’t the key ingredient. That particular honor goes to grunkern, or green spelt. A specialty of Baden-Wurttemberg in the southwestern corner of Germany, the stew contains starch, protein, fat, vitamins, and flavor in one bowl.

            Spelt is an ancient variety of wheat that’s been grown for thousands of years. The German word grunkern sounds very similar to “green corn,” because the grain is harvested before it’s fully ripe. In Europe, corn can mean any type of grain, not just maize and sweet corn. Exactly how green spelt was discovered is unclear. Perhaps one summer grain supplies were running low and the harvest was still a few weeks or months away, so some farmers harvested a bit of their grain early. Interestingly, grunkern doesn’t seem to be widespread in European cuisines. Maybe it was more popular before potatoes, which are also ready before the main grain harvest, were introduced from the Americas, but that’s just speculation.

            The full recipe can be found in 1000 Foods to Eat Before You Die on pages 288 – 289, but here’s a summary. Butter is melted on the stove, then bacon, onion, carrots, and celery are added. You can add the beef or pork at this point to brown, which I did. Then soaked grunkern is added, with optional leek and parsnip, along with celery leaves and the meat, if it hasn’t been added already. This is followed by a bit of thyme, pepper, and either broth or water. I omitted the leek but added a minced parsnip, celery leaves, dried thyme, and beef broth. The recipe called for salt, but that can be added later to taste. Since I used salted butter and broth instead of water, adding extra at this point was unnecessary. Then everything simmers for a little over an hour.

            One thing that surprised me about this recipe was how little meat it uses. For 4 to 6 servings, it only called for 8 ounces beef or pork. That’s less than 2 ounces per serving, contrary to the stereotype of German food. Even though Germans have historically had more meat available per person that many other Europeans, large servings were an occasional treat, particularly during the Early Modern Era and into the 19th Century, after large-scale population growth and before industrial agriculture. So we have a stew with plenty of grain and root vegetables, with some beef and bacon as enhancements.

            Overall, this soup is highly enjoyable. My favorite from this project is still beef-mushroom-barley, but this was an interesting change of pace. Like barley, the grunkern swells up in storage and upon reheating, so a bit of extra broth or water might be necessary. If you have trouble finding green spelt or grunkern, which I couldn’t find even online, try looking in a Middle Eastern food store. There it’s called freekeh, but the product is the same. Ziyad brand is one of the most widely available.

            Next time there will be another soup recipe, so be sure to subscribe. Did I mention it’s free?

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