What's in a name? That which we call a rose
by any other name would smell as sweet.
by any other name would smell as sweet.
W.Shakespeare
It's important to remember two things about this famous line:
1. Shakespeare put these words into the mouth of a lovesick teenager who was trying to coerce her new boyfriend into staying just a little while longer, and
2. Lovesick teenagers are a species set apart, even in Shakespeare's day, for the fluency with which they spout emotional nonsense.
Because the truth is that names matter. Names matter quite a lot. The truth is, had that which we call a rose been called instead, say, "lesser swampwort", it might never have become a symbol of love and passion.
It would perhaps have only ever been "that funny flower that smells really nice anyway".
The power of a name to persuade or intrigue was on my mind last week, as I assembled the exuberantly named "Life-altering Kale salad", and pondered how a salad could possibly alter one's life (other that the time it sucks away from one's life clock during preparation).
What if, during an important lunch with an important someone at a sidewalk bistro in Paris, you lean in for a bite of salad, and by leaning, you narrowly miss being hit by one of these:
Or what if you took a bite of said salad, exclaimed "Wow! this is better that ice cream or fries or pizza or tobacco or alcohol!", and forswore all such treats in favor of this salad, thus adding 30 years to your life. Thirty years in which you become one of these:
Well, we assembled and ingested that salad last Friday, and there are no signifigant life alterations to report as of yet. Although, pondering the power a name has to influence the way we approach a food we've never cooked or eaten has has shaped this week's menu choices, and who can tell where that may lead?
Here, I'll show you:
Wednesday: Sausages and Marinated Kale salad
Touted by The Chalkboard as "the best kale salad ever" this recipe takes advantage of the way that the acids in dressings (in this case lemon juice) soften up the otherwise tough and chewy texture of kale. Most kaley salads are substantial enough to stand on their own , but I'll be picking up some nice sausages from somewhere as a co-main. Any leftover cooked sausages will speed up Saturday's dinner too.
Thursday: Lemongrass chicken and Thai cashew salad
Here's my own chance to recreate the thai-coconut ribs we loved so much last week- and to those who
recreate the old, goes the privilege of renaming the new, right? The plan is to spin up a blenderful of the marinade from the thai-coconut ribs and use part of it as a marinade for a few flattened chicken breasts. (I'll be using one of these substitutes for lemongrass if I can't find any affordable stuff nearby). The marinade not actually used as a marinade will be heated up and used as a sauce, and I'll be cooking up a few extra pieces of chicken for Sunday night.
Friday: Hatch chili cheeseburgers and Avocado potato salad with hatch chili dressing
In the Southwest, this time of year is scented with the smoke of roasting chilies the way that December is scented by cinnamon and artificial Christmas trees. The smell and the taste of these versatile chilies are spectacular, but until this Wikipedia article, I thought that a chili by any other name would taste the same. As it turns out, the soil and growing conditions of the Hatch valley make a chili that's more of everything a chili oughtta be. I love em, and have a container of them waiting for me in the freezer. Around here, they can be purchased fresh or roasted for the next week or two, or you can buy them canned all year round.
Saturday: Sausage Clafoutis and Pan roasted cherry tomatoes and kale
Clafoutis is a sort of oven pancake that's usually sweetish (not Swedish) and served for dessert or breakfast (check out this recipe for a fig version). Here's a savory (and gluten-free!) version that will include the leftover sausage from Wednesday night. Pan Roasted tomatoes are a Sunday morning fave around here and since we like ours deeply caramelized, I'll reverse the cooking order in the recipe. The tomatoes will go into the pan and cook there till they're nice and brown, and at the last minute, the kale will wilt its way alongside them. And the department of amusing aliases would like you to know that in British climes, the French clafoutis goes by the more prosaic sobriquet "Toad in a hole", a name which is somehow both repellent and hilarious.
Sunday: Chicken/Hatch lettuce wraps
You'll note that the actual recipe reads "Hatch chili mole lettuce wraps", but since there's no mole (mo-lay sauce, not mole, the little ground rodent sauce.) in the ingredient list, I changed the name. Besides, the idea of Hatching up a plate of chicken struck me as funny. Thursday's cooked chicken gets diced up along with the rest of the frozen chilies in this one dish meal, but rice, plain or made mexican, would be a great side if you've got a larger than one dish appetite.
Well, whatever you call the food you have this week
for dinner, or supper, or whatever you call it,
And whoever you share it with.
I hope that the people you love
know themselves to be safe in your company;
their names to be safe in your mouth
and their souls safe at your table.
Even (especially) if the only actual human soul at the table
1. Shakespeare put these words into the mouth of a lovesick teenager who was trying to coerce her new boyfriend into staying just a little while longer, and
2. Lovesick teenagers are a species set apart, even in Shakespeare's day, for the fluency with which they spout emotional nonsense.
Because the truth is that names matter. Names matter quite a lot. The truth is, had that which we call a rose been called instead, say, "lesser swampwort", it might never have become a symbol of love and passion.
It would perhaps have only ever been "that funny flower that smells really nice anyway".
The power of a name to persuade or intrigue was on my mind last week, as I assembled the exuberantly named "Life-altering Kale salad", and pondered how a salad could possibly alter one's life (other that the time it sucks away from one's life clock during preparation).
What if, during an important lunch with an important someone at a sidewalk bistro in Paris, you lean in for a bite of salad, and by leaning, you narrowly miss being hit by one of these:
 |
| the legendary Parisian pigeon bombardier. His mission: to wreak havoc on important outdoor lunches worldwide. |
 |
| Grandma Moses, who began painting in her seventies, and spent her next three decades being a famous artist. |
Here, I'll show you:
Wednesday: Sausages and Marinated Kale salad
Touted by The Chalkboard as "the best kale salad ever" this recipe takes advantage of the way that the acids in dressings (in this case lemon juice) soften up the otherwise tough and chewy texture of kale. Most kaley salads are substantial enough to stand on their own , but I'll be picking up some nice sausages from somewhere as a co-main. Any leftover cooked sausages will speed up Saturday's dinner too.
Thursday: Lemongrass chicken and Thai cashew salad
Here's my own chance to recreate the thai-coconut ribs we loved so much last week- and to those who recreate the old, goes the privilege of renaming the new, right? The plan is to spin up a blenderful of the marinade from the thai-coconut ribs and use part of it as a marinade for a few flattened chicken breasts. (I'll be using one of these substitutes for lemongrass if I can't find any affordable stuff nearby). The marinade not actually used as a marinade will be heated up and used as a sauce, and I'll be cooking up a few extra pieces of chicken for Sunday night.
Friday: Hatch chili cheeseburgers and Avocado potato salad with hatch chili dressing
In the Southwest, this time of year is scented with the smoke of roasting chilies the way that December is scented by cinnamon and artificial Christmas trees. The smell and the taste of these versatile chilies are spectacular, but until this Wikipedia article, I thought that a chili by any other name would taste the same. As it turns out, the soil and growing conditions of the Hatch valley make a chili that's more of everything a chili oughtta be. I love em, and have a container of them waiting for me in the freezer. Around here, they can be purchased fresh or roasted for the next week or two, or you can buy them canned all year round.Saturday: Sausage Clafoutis and Pan roasted cherry tomatoes and kale
Clafoutis is a sort of oven pancake that's usually sweetish (not Swedish) and served for dessert or breakfast (check out this recipe for a fig version). Here's a savory (and gluten-free!) version that will include the leftover sausage from Wednesday night. Pan Roasted tomatoes are a Sunday morning fave around here and since we like ours deeply caramelized, I'll reverse the cooking order in the recipe. The tomatoes will go into the pan and cook there till they're nice and brown, and at the last minute, the kale will wilt its way alongside them. And the department of amusing aliases would like you to know that in British climes, the French clafoutis goes by the more prosaic sobriquet "Toad in a hole", a name which is somehow both repellent and hilarious.Sunday: Chicken/Hatch lettuce wraps
Well, whatever you call the food you have this week
for dinner, or supper, or whatever you call it,
And whoever you share it with.
I hope that the people you love
know themselves to be safe in your company;
their names to be safe in your mouth
and their souls safe at your table.
Even (especially) if the only actual human soul at the table
 |
| is your own. |
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