February 2004

My Food, My Life

Take 1
Passover Comes to My Local Grocery Store

We live in a VERY Jewish neighborhood. On Friday afternoons, the sidewalks are crowded with Orthodox families walking to Sabbath services together, and the Kosher restaurants are closed (until 2 hours after sundown on Saturday.) The Dunkin Doughnuts is kosher, even. It's pretty cool, really.

The best advantage to living in a Orthodox Jewish neighborhood is the grocery store. We have kosher cheese, kosher juice, kosher jello - all food-items not found in your average store. But it does not stop there. Soup, ice cream, crackers, cereal, and candy. If you are a vegetarian, like my wife, there is a meatless selection better than Traders Joe's, and at more reasonable rates than food at a Whole Foods.

Our grocery store is Stop and Shop. I'm not kidding, it really is a Stop and Shop.

With Passover just around the corner, I expected to see some kosher foods around the store. Last weekend, they made the switch, but not how I expected. On Saturday morning, the two aisles you see upon entering the store were completely cleared, and every type of kosher food was moved onto the big, empty shelves. Zionist in their approach, the store moved all of the disparate kosher items together. There is no question which late-winter, early-spring holiday reigns supreme in our neighborhood.

The other late-winter, early-spring holiday of which I speak is Easter. Easter, if you remember your Bible, celebrates the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. He sacrificed his life, according to the story, in exchange for the eternal salvation of every human being. His sacrifice is celebrated in many houses with the annual visit of the Easter Bunny. The Easter Bunny, much like his more popular brother, Santa, visits the homes of good little Christian boys and girls to hide candy hidden in plastic eggs. It's a major holiday, but it's mascot is pretty crappy.

Our Stop and Shop's meager collection of Easter candy and plastic eggs is not well advertised. In fact, it's about as far from the Passover food as one can get - on the opposite side of the store, with the bread and ice cream. I don't even know why they bother with the dang display.

Of course, the Christians do get their revenge. In the freezer next to the Passover food is the store's huge selection of pork sausage.

Take 2
The Morning I Eat Three Bananas

I like to buy bananas. I eat one banana every morning with breakfast. Bananas are an awesome fruit, all pre-packaged and tasty. Monkeys go ape-shit for bananas. What else can I say?

Well, there is a dark-side to the banana. First of all, they cannot be stored in a fridge. They ripen way better if they are kept in the open air of the kitchen. Second, once they are ripe, they can go bad wicked quick. More often than not, I buy bananas on Sunday that last me until Friday. Sometimes, they play tricks on me.

The other morning, I grabbed for one banana, and although I was being gentle, the tops of the other two bananas came off with it. Crap. What was I to do? I had to leave soon to catch my train, so I did not have time to chop them and but them in the fridge. My only option was to eat all three bananas. Jeez, who would have thought wolfing down three bananas would be so hard?

Take 3
I Don't Cook Fancy and Leaned Like Duckfat, But I Eat Real Good

Every month, Evil Robots, Inc. publishes a terrific Food Article by our friend Duckfat. He's a guy like us who learned to cook like a chef, but at home. He need to write a book, his food stories are so tight. I like his style. Someday, I need to watch that guy cook something. I bet it's hella cool.

Of course, I also cook, but not as eloquently. My wife and I like to cook with good, fresh ingredients, in a way that allows the food to speak for itself. Unlike Duckfat, we have no training, so we cannot tell you why or how the meal tastes good, or why it didn't turn out so good. We have some things that we make real awesome: soufflé, mac-n-chee, hummus. Bigfoot makes a killer hollandaise sauce, and has a dry-rub for tofu that rocks my world. We have fun in the kitchen.

As much fun as we have, tho', I cannot help to think that some lessons are in order, if only to make us more accurate cooks. From what I've read, Duckfat learned much from his cooking lessons. Unfortunately, his lessons were costly, and I'm cheap. So I am stick with being hap-hazard.

The morning I saw the Passover food being shelved, I bought a bag of day-old croissants. I did not know what I would do with them, but, if we only toasted and eat them with some hot tea, I'd've been pleased. Later that afternoon, it came to me that our four croissants would make eight totally awesome slices of French Toast. Good thinkin'.

French Toast is an odd subject in our house. Growing up, my wife was subjected to some of the worlds worst French Toast at the hands of her mother. Her mom liked to serve the FT half-cooked, with the batter still runny and gross. Bigfoot did not know that this was wrong, at least not until she eat some FT at my Mom's house. My mother cooks her FT to completion, where the egg batter has become a firm, warm pudding (or custard) underneath the crispy crust. Her life-long, confused, hatred of French Toast ended that morning.

Since then, I've made her some pretty good French Toast at home a couple of times. I've used pre-sliced bread, day-old baguette, and cubed sourdough. I do a good job. Top those suckers with some Canadian maple syrup, and you're good to go. Dr. Atkins, eat your heart out!

Had I suggested turning our buttery, flaky and wonderful bag or pastry into French Toast two years ago, Bigfoot would have smacked me upside the head. Being that she's learned of another way, I had her complete trust.

I, on the other hand, did not think it could be done. The wife eat French Toasted croissants before, but at a real restaurant. Those were cooked on a large griddle, or grille, but I'm cooking with an average non-stick fry-pan. My. Bigmouth (that's me) didn't have a choice. The French Toast had to be cooked!

To take my mind offa the cooking, I concentrated on the batter. This process soothed this anxious beast. I whipped three eggs with milk for a minute, then I added cinnamon and fresh ground nutmeg. We have a big bag of whole nutmegs in our fridge. I figure that the bag will last us ten years, and we'll never again eat crappy pre-ground nutmeg again. The batter smelled awesome.

Just as in cooking pancakes, the temperature of the grill is critical. I expected the first two slices to be ruined. The first pancakes or French toasts are always either burned on the outside, or scrambled eggs on the inside. This morning, I lucked out. They were light and toasty on the outside, smooth and custardy on the inside. Thank human ingenuity for the gas oven!

We eat the French Toast with sliced berries and melon. We were all fat and happy. Everyone should eat this well. Or, to be more precise, everyone should be this thoughtful about what they put in their mouths.