Menus, September 3, 2013

You don't need a silver fork to eat good food.

 Paul Prudhomme

You don't have to eat expensively to eat well; your table needn't be upper class to be classy; food works if it fuels the worker.  Such have been the kitchen credos of hard-working working class cooks throughout history and around the world. It's true, working class food has received double helpings of sneering contempt for the last 60 years or so-

it's often scorned for being either

too stodgy,                                           or (my personal favorite) too starchy.

While the posh fare of food smuggins is just as often derided for being either

too stuffy,                                              or just plain silly.

 
The thing is, according to this  very interesting article, until the modern phenomenon of factory produced food, working class food was raised, purchased and prepared quite close to home. It was fresh, it was local, and it was meant to nourish and satisfy hard working appetites.  Using only what what your own farm or the nearby village could provide was a necessity, and that necessity sparked some fantastic forgotten inventions which I, your faithful research hound, have rediscovered:
  

These guys were sent to work with thermosfuls
 of special magnetizing stew. That's why they can perch
up there with such casual security. 

These ladies are enjoying special amphetamine-laced sandwiches.
That's why they look so happy about the mountain of housework
they'll be climbing after lunch.

And these ladies are smiling because Heinz just invented
ketchup soup. Hmmm... the fixed intensity of  some of those
smiles....maybe they too had some special sandwiches.

Seriously. Take a quick look at this list of National dishes around the world, and you'll see that no matter where you (or your parents, or your grandparents) come from, the most famous food of your country is the food that feeds the workers of your country.

This whole mind spin began late Sunday night, as my daughter Liz and I talked about Labor day plans and Labor day food. 

"Labor day food ought to be the food of laborers." She said.

"Hey...." I answered, "what an awesome idea!" 

and then she started a sentence in one of the very best ways possible:

"I wonder...." she began, "what is the food of workers?"

and the resulting mind spin, after a short detour into Middle Earth,

(Here it is Liz, an absolutely authentic
 recipe for Lembas, The waybread of the Elves.
 Easy to carry, with nutrients enough to keep you toiling
all the way to Mordor.) 

took me, as most mind spins do, toward dinner.

Let's see what we wound up with, shall we?

Wednesday: Oven roasted brisket and Caesar salad 

The hardest part of cooking this brisket is remembering to start it 5 hours before dinnertime. If you can't make it home to throw it in the oven at lunch, consider starting it in the morning and lowering the oven temperature and cooking it all day. The dressing for the salad is easy with a tube of anchovy paste.

Thursday: Meat pie and salad

Last night's leftover brisket will get chopped up into the filling of these wonderful pies. Or maybe just one pie.  If you want a more authentic Aussie working meal, make some mashed potatoes, and top the pies with ketchup. 

Friday: Slow cooker pulled pork and kale and apple slaw

The pork will go into the slow cooker in the morning, and by the time I arrive home, the house will smell amazing. Chances are strong that we'll serve the pork as is, rather than turning into sandwiches.

Saturday: Brazilian black beans with tomato vinaigrette and farofa

This meal, black beans with all the trimmings, is the classic fuel of the home audience's boyhood. In Brazil, where he grew up, beans and rice are a staple and appear at both lunch and dinner several times a week. There's a whole lotta pork in this recipe- we'll be using last night's leftover pork instead of the loin, and maybe the sausage and bacon too. (Maybe? what am I saying!?! Of course I'll use sausage and bacon!) I've used cornmeal instead of the manioc flour in the farofa pretty successfully. Looking for an inexpensive and authentic dessert? Try these yummy fudgy brigadieros or this flan. 

Sunday: Tacos

Okay. Take a look at the leftovers in the fridge. Do you  have remnants of brisket, pork and/or black beans?  You don't have leftovers, you have the start of a taco buffet.  Throw down any assortment of grated cheese, shredded lettuce, tomatoes, onions, sour cream or Greek yogurt, cilantro or avocados, add some salsa, tortillas and chips, and you've got a feast.  Call your hard working friends over and party together before work starts all over again tomorrow.

And for the rest of this week, I hope you know that it matters.

The way you work hard 

to make sure that the people you love

have what they need

to do what they need to do.

That matters.

And I hope that this week, you feel nurtured too.

I hope that the food you eat

(both the real and the metaphorical)

hits the spots in mind, body and soul;

fills you, feeds you, and fuels you

for all the beautiful
and crazy tasks that lie ahead.

Weekend update

“Be infinitely flexible and constantly amazed.” 

Jason Kravitz

Just to get those back to school brain cells revving, here's a little riddle:

What do 

this week's menu plans

and 

this gigantic cephalopod

have in common?

Answer: They both got beached.

One of them got  the sad, stinking, ruined and rotting kind of beached, 

                                                  

And one of them got this kind of beached.

Hint: I didn't do much cooking this week.

It was a good plan, a plan full of meals and recipes that deserved another chance. Still, 80% of this week's menus floated happily out to sea about 14 hours after I arrived in Houston for a few days with my youngest son and his beautiful beloved. 

Second chances, and the delight that often accompanies them, abounded nonetheless.

From being smitten by Robert and Miranda's two second chance kitties,

Meet Angua.
From shelter to foster home to adoption.
Proof that second chances are especially sweet
 when they're given to things with big eyes and fur.

to a game I call Same Thing, Different Place.

This game involves ordering similar menu dishes from different restaurants for two nights in a row. And eating more than you ever thought you could while you watch movies and play video games. (We played it with beef and broccoli and house special lo mein from China Wok and Golden Wok in Houston, and the winner was absolutely Golden Wok. )

Golden wok has real fortune cookies!
Not  lame proverb cookies!
Winner!

In a funny turn of events, the one meal actually cooked in our Dallas home this week was such a winner that it got a second second chance in Houston.

That great chance to the second power side dish?

The Kale Caesar Salad.

I've been finding out so many interesting things about kale this week! From the edifying (this article on its amazing nutritional value) to the informative (this article on basic kale salad recipes) to the amusing (this article on how many superlatives one can fit in before the words "kale salad"). This stuff is packed so tightly with nutrients, it's like the family vacation station wagon of leafy greens. More good news: when one retries a kale salad on the same night as one retries Steak Milanesa and discovers it's stupendous tender yumminess,

the good for youness of the kale totally cancels out the
bad for youness of a Parmesan crusted, fried slice of beef.
YAY!
(actually, I am making that part up)

Major discoveries: 

1.Kale Massage. No, really.  Giving the greens an nice kneading really did make a huge difference in taste and texture. Both here and in Houston. Tried it twice, worked both times. You can take my word for it, or you can read this to learn why. 

2. Steak Milanesa! What a find! Like chicken fried steak, but lighter and tastier.

3. Anchovy paste! As some of you know, I am not ordinarily a squeamish woman. Bugs? Well, it's their planet too.  Blood? Well, in small quantities, it probably just means that you had a good time. But the fine hairlike bones that bristle from anchovy fillets can kill plans for a genuine Caesar salad as effectively as Brutus killed the salad's namesake. This is because they are grosser than spiders riding on really big cockroaches that are skittering up a kitchen wall. I'm afraid I'm rather unneutral about this.

There are rumors that sauteing the anchovy fillets in butter or oil can, in effect, melt the bones. Lots of people, including Oprah, say so, and that method deserves a chance. For now though, I'm celebrating the addition to the kitchen of this:

It was hiding among the tinned sardines and tuna
at Central Market.

This single addition lifted a simple salad dressing so far above ordinary, that I'm already combing the internet to see what else it can do! Monday and Tuesday will see me attempting a few of the things I hoped to try, then so happily slid off the schedule and into the sea, but anchovy paste, your turn is coming. 

Maybe your life, like my own, flexes day by day 

into shapes that surprise you.

I hope that this week amazes you

as it bends plans into forms more wonderful than you'd imagined.

I hope this week, that if (and almost certainly when) plans go awry,

leaving potential devastation in their wake,

 they will be balanced with moments that go exactly as planned.

Or even better than planned. 

I hope, in fact, that your week

is just beachy.