Gentry
"Perspectives"
November 2005 |
Foodie vs. Food Lover
Fresh ingredients. Gentry's Christine VanDeVelde discusses the nuances of
being a connoisseur of haute cuisine and simply enjoying good food
Over the years, I've resisted the prevailing taste for dining as a
competitive sport. I'm not a fan of tasting menus or organic olive bars. I
don't have to have the "kitchen table" in order to enjoy a meal at the
hottest new restaurant. My kitchen at home has neither a 6-burner Vulcan
range nor a Traulsen refrigerator. I prefer a Zuni burger to Thomas
Keller's roasted rabbit surrounded by a hot bath of rosemary
"aromatherapy." In my own cooking, I have never used purslane, Beluga
lentils, or cardoon. And when the subject of food arises in conversation,
I do not talk about foraging and mouthfeel, two terms that make me think
of truffle pigs.
The term “foodie” was coined in 1984 by the authors of The Official
Foodie Handbook to describe "those who consider food to be an art, on
a level with painting and drama." I don't know about you, but as a parent
charged with serving breakfast, lunch and dinner, I'm not up to creating
art in my kitchen three times a day. I don't own a single Leifheit canning
jar or a mandoline -- the latter frighten me. Also, I have never watched
the Food Network.
On the other hand, I do covet Global knives, have a great Wolf cooktop,
and love quince paste and fig preserves from Provence. I want to know the
origins of the mozzarella I am buying and be assured that the tomatoes are
organic. I am an avid reader of culinary writing of every stripe -- from
the literary works of M.F.K. Fisher and the essays of Laurie Colwin to
Robert Wolke's What Einstein Told His Cook: Further Adventures in
Kitchen Science and Holley Bishop's Robbing the Bees: A Biography
of Honey. And I am a devoted fan of Marcella Hazan's baked fish and
potatoes with rosemary and garlic, as well as her roast chicken with two
lemons.
Like Laurie Colwin, I am also endlessly interested in people's domestic
lives. If I am talking to a friend on the phone in the late afternoon, I
cannot prevent myself from asking her what she's making for dinner. A
roast pork loin? With a glaze? And an apple pie for dessert? Did you buy
that or make it from scratch? If I run into someone I know in the aisles
of Whole Foods, I shamelessly check out the contents of their basket. If
you invite me to lunch, I will want to know where you found the delicious
flax seed crackers and bought the strawberries. And so it is that I verge
into "foodie territory."
While food does not need to be a tour de force for me, I demand that it
look and taste fresh and pure. I also care where it came from and how it
was produced. And I am always on a quest for simple, flavorful meals
created with a minimum of fuss. All of which lands me squarely in the
middle of one of the dominant foodie movements of the last twenty years --
Slow Food. Founded by Carlo Petrini in 1986 in Italy in response to the
opening of the first McDonald's in Rome, Slow Food is dedicated to
cultivating and preserving regional, seasonal and artisanal foods and
celebrates cooking distinguished by its ease and simplicity. For those of
us who are tired of our over-scheduled and over-extended lives, but lucky
enough to be living at the epicenter of the artisanal movement, this is a
message tailor-made to be embraced.
And so I have. At this time in my life, nothing makes me happier than to
cook a simple meal for friends. For appetizers, I serve roasted almonds
with sea salt from the Palo Alto Farmers Market and a wedge of Red Hawk, a
triple cream organic cheese from the Cowgirl Creamery in Point Reyes.
Dinner is grilled tuna with a sauce made from heirloom tomatoes and green
beans picked up at San Francisco's Ferry Plaza Market. Dessert is a rustic
tart made right in its pan with peaches from the Sacramento Delta's Frog
Hollow Farm.
My friend Terri Tiffany received this recipe for "company chicken" from
Phoebe Mitchell, the mother of two of her best girl friends when she was
growing up in Woodside. She has made it for me many times. I have "slowed"
it with organic and regional ingredients. Serve it with an arugula salad
with shaved parmesan, invite a few friends and dine slowly.
Napa Valley Chicken
Brown 3 lbs of lightly floured skinless and boneless Rosie organic chicken
breasts in olive oil in a large skillet.
While chicken is browning, combine the following in a sauce pan:
1 Cup Muir Glen organic ketchup
1/2 Cup Sherry (There is now an organic Fino sherry from Spain available
from Bodegas Robles.)
1/3 Cup water
2 Tablespoons of fresh lemon juice
1 Medium chopped onion
1 Tablespoon of Annie's organic Worcestershire sauce
1 Tablespoon of Strauss Family Creamery European Style Sweet butter
1 Tablespoon of Hain organic brown sugar
1 Cup of fresh mushrooms
Heat over low/medium heat until sauce bubbles.
Place browned chicken breasts in casserole dish and pour sauce over them.
Cover with aluminum foil.
Bake covered in 325 degree oven for 1 1/4 hours. Serve over rice.
For 4-6 people.
(For good measure, Terri always doubles the sherry.) |
