Weekend Update March 25,2013

“When there is noise and crowds, there is trouble" 

Dejan Stojanovic

Ever find yourself in a crowded someplace, wondering at what point a crowd becomes a crush?  

Whatever that point is, it's before this

and after this

probably before this....

and definitely after this...

There are people who finds crowds energizing, people who find them exhausting, those who find crowds merry, those who find them maddening, and even those who find some sorts of crowds downright creepy.

It's true! I know people who get an unpleasant shiver from the very idea of, say....

a harmless flock of birds. 

But where's the balance? I know! Let's try a little math experiment! Let's find out when too crowded turns into uncrowded by seeing how many we have to subtract from that fiendish flock before it becomes benign.  

If innumerable birds are the the stuff from which your more unpleasant dreams are spun, what if there were only....six? 

What if you could tell yourself they weren't even real birds?

I have no idea what's going on here.
But I'll admit, it's really quite disturbing.

Ok. So, six mutant birds are a half dozen too many. What if perhaps if there were only two of the feathered beasties.....

nope, still creepy.
(well..... maybe fun)
Except I'm not entirely sure whether all 3 of them are alive.
So.....mostly creepy.

okay then- I'll grant that a large, noisy crowd of birds flocking near one may be a little alarming.

 Even six can seem menacing; maybe even two could make some people shudder. 

How about just one then? If a huge flock is too many, then maybe just one is just right......

Really? Still terrifying?
Sigh.
so, sometimes even one is a crowd.

 

I was thinking about when crowding becomes overcrowding this week as I prepped little lamby tidbits for Lamb Ragu and Tuscan lamb on polenta. My uber efficient plan was to cut a lamb roast into bite sized bits, sear them all and use half of them one night in the ragu, and the rest in the Tuscan lamb. 

A good plan in theory, that actually proved itself to be a good plan in execution. But not before it had stirred up some curiosity of the kitchen persuasion. Mostly about searing.

I grew up, and maybe you did too, thinking that even if meat's to be cooked in liquid, it ought to be seared to seal in all those meaty juices. Which seemed a little weird.  I mean, if one is cooking a pot roast in a liquid, does it really matter if the meat juice escapes? Don't we just call the runaway meat juice, you know,

gravy?

Science to the rescue! Here's a great and geeky article on why we sear meat- not to keep it juicy, because (surprise!) it doesn't. But beautifully browned meat tastes better, and more importantly looks like it tastes better. Which starts your mouth going all drooly. Which makes the meat seem juicy. I am not making this up.

And here's a thing I have personally learned about searing.

And this is true whether you're stirring up a pan of veggies for a stir fry, a pan of steak strips for fajitas, or a pan of lambbits for ragu.

Unless your dinner prep schedule is pressed more tightly than a shirt from the A-number-one-super-starch laundry,

 avoid over crowding.

Want to know why? Well, since I am adept at both making and mending this sort of kitchen mistake, I shall fearlessly demonstrate:

example one. In which I heedlessly and impatiently overcrowd.

Here I go in my usual headlong rush toward dinner, throwing as many pieces of meat as will fit into the pan. The oil that I carefully preheated cools off rapidly with the addition of all that chilled protein.....

and after, well, it seemed like a long time, there's this rather unattractive mess bubbling away on the stove, and I'm beginning to be grateful that before serving it'll be covered in an opaque sauce:

 

Example two. In which I approach things with patience and common sense.

 The way it's supposed to be done. The pieces of meat (or veg) are placed in the pan with room all around them. This way the heated oil stays hot....

And in just a little while....oh, my. Golden umameaty deliciousness. Even to a semi-vegetarian like me. 

And here's a funny thing- although avoiding a crowd in the pan may necessitate cooking things in multiple batches, it strangely doesn't take much more time. Of course, there are days when the idea of spending even a little more patience and a little more time on dinner is crazier than a pair of parakeet earrings. Don't worry about it. 

Cover it with the right sauce, and who can tell what you did or did not sear before dinner?

look:

here's the ragu, looking all garish and weird in the flash
that I forgot to turn off.
Did I sear or not sear? Who knows? Who cares?
Because it tasted great.

And here's the tuscan lamb. I saved the seary browned bits
for this, since I knew they'd be a little less covered up.
oh. and I added some olives and spinach.
Tasty, cheap, fast and easy. It's a keeper.

You know what?

I can only imagine what's ahead for you this week. 

And I imagine that there's a chance that sometime this week you may  feel the hemmed-in, pressed-down frantic feeling that comes from being in an unfriendly crowd.

Maybe a crowd of people (little or big), all clamoring for something from you.

Maybe a crowd of chores and tasks and expectations that threatens to squeeze the air from your lungs.

Or maybe (and this is the worst crowd of all), a vicious crowd of your own merciless thoughts.

I hope that in the middle of the frenzy, in the midst of the maddening crowd, you can close your eyes.

And breathe. 

And gather all the determined love and quiet courage that you can find.

Because that place? The place where love and courage meet?

It's very rarely crowded.