Mustard

Chris just came back from his work trip to Cannes today, and unfortunately, it looks like the security at Heathrow en route back to New York caught him with the Dijon mustard he got for me that was over 100 ml. I was so bummed when I woke up this morning to see that text from him. No French mustard will be coming back to our apartment today.

I’ve been reading about brands like Maille and Amora mustard and how superior they are to the mustards here in the U.S. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve really started developing a taste for mustard, especially the really spicy, complex ones, and the whole-grain, seedy ones (these require flossing after enjoying). These brands are just everyday brands in France, yet they make our everyday mustard brands look sad, pathetic and lacking real mustard flavor. They are supposed to be extremely strong to the point of clearing your blocked nose and also far spicier than the average mustards here.

It’s on my list of things to buy when we travel to France this October for Chris’s cousin’s wedding. When other people travel to Paris, they get excited for the fashion and make lists of clothing pieces or handbags they wish to purchase that would be cheaper in France than back home in the U.S. When I go to Paris, I start salivating over all things edible. Mmmmm, French mustard and butter and croissants and baguettes and macarons.

Mom’s complaints are love

My mom is always touched when I make her food even though she tends to complain about it. She tells me that she didn’t raise me to cook food and “do manual labor.” To her, it’s like a low class job or activity even though she grew up extremely poor in a rural part of central Vietnam. She says cooking is hard work and that I should just “lie down and relax” when I’m not at work. This is slightly comical to me, though. If I work a 40-hour work week, she’s essentially telling me that she wants me to “lie down” 128 hours. That would get really boring, wouldn’t it?

Before I left home, I humored her and made her beloved and requested boxed brownie mixes. She doesn’t like baking since she really hates measuring anything when making food, so when it comes to even boxed mixes, she’d prefer someone else do it despite how simple it is. She knows how much I can’t stand mixes (I prefer to bake from scratch, which to this day, still befuddles her to no end), so she’s fully aware that I do this only because I love her and nothing else.

I talked to her on the phone today, and she thanks me profusely for making “such delicious brownies – so chewy!” Mom, I said, it was from a box! “I don’t care — it still tastes good, and you know I love it!” She exclaims in response. That’s what moms do. They complain about the things you do even though they absolutely love it at the same time and then go and tell all their friends about it.

 

Fish

This weekend, we went to Whole Foods so that I could pick out some wild fish to prepare for dinner tonight. We ended up picking out some bluefish fillets that were priced at $9.99/lb. At Whole Foods, this sounds fairly affordable, but after paying almost $19 for four fillets, it seemed like quite a lot of money to spend on just a handful of meals. And considering that bluefish was once considered the fish that fisherman tossed back into the sea and fed to other fish, it’s quite a markup. Once upon a time at a local grocery store in Cambridge, MA, you could get great and fresh bluefish fillets for less than $4/lb.

It’s a decent amount of money to spend, but I rather spend money on a fish that’s rich and fatty like this than a boring, bland white fish. I don’t understand people who want to eat fish but don’t like the actual taste or smell of a real fish. Fish like halibut and tilapia have no real, distinct flavor. There’s little way to tell one white fish from another in terms of flavor because they have none. Like articles I’ve read about bluefish have said, bluefish is for people who want to know they are eating fish, not people who want to eat fish but don’t want to taste fish.

Recipe for love

Yesterday, I was reading one of my favorite food blogs, Smitten Kitchen, and Deb, the blogger, says in one of her posts that the sour cream coffee cake she makes could be the dish that made her now husband realize she was The One. She said that after she made this cake for him, shortly after, he asked her to marry him. And so began their journey cooking and photographing together in their tiny Manhattan kitchen. The coffee cake became the reason he married her, or so she wants to believe.

I thought about this in the context of me and Chris. Since we have moved in together about three years ago now, I’ve made so many different things that I can’t really keep track of what has been his favorite. I’ve made more use of this teeny tiny kitchen than probably anyone else in the history of this building even existing. This kitchen has seen some crazy three-day process dishes, as well as complex pastries like croissant. I asked him if he could name a dish I’ve made for him that he’d say was the one he’d name as the The Dish, and he said that I rarely make the same thing twice, so it was hard to name. Now that I think about it, the only real repeats this apartment has seen are banh xeo, appam, Kerala chicken stew, banana bread, pumpkin bread, pad thai, and different versions of oatmeal and chocolate chip cookies and fried rice. Nothing else has ever been a repeat.

It’s hard to repeat a dish when there are infinite recipes out there on the internet that I’ve bookmarked, as well as too many cookbooks here in the apartment that I neglect as a result. I guess Chris can’t name a favorite dish because they’re all his favorite dishes since I made them. 🙂

Appam and yeast

The first time I made appam, otherwise known as a South Indian coconut and rice based pancake that is fermented, I did it the very un-traditional way and used baking soda instead of yeast or hot toddy. It came out almost perfectly; it probably would have been better if I had thinned out the batter a bit and also had a real appam chetty pan to get the correct shape. Today, for a small dinner party at home, I attempted to use a supposedly more “authentic” recipe that uses yeast, and the texture was all wrong — spongy instead of light, airy, and fluffy. The taste also seemed to have more of that fermented taste that I wasn’t so sure about. That’s not how I remember it tasting when Chris’s mum made it or the last time I made it a year and a half ago.

I was so irritated about how I had failed that I mentioned it a few times to my friends when they came over. They couldn’t tell the difference since this was their first time having it, and they insisted I was being overly critical. It’s true. I was being overly critical, but I tend to be this way about things that I am passionate about, and cooking is clearly in this area. I hate messing up and disappointing myself. We are all perfectionists about some aspects of our lives; that’s how we encourage ourselves to become better versions of ourselves and constantly improve. At least, that’s what I believe.

Strawberry rhubarb syrup

This year, I’ve made a goal to make use of seasonal produce that I’m not familiar with to challenge myself to be more creative in my cooking. A few fruit and vegetables that are on this list include rhubarb, figs, beets, summer squash, and artichokes. Some of these are clearly higher maintenance, like artichokes, while others, like rhubarb, are just foreign to me. The only way I’ve ever had rhubarb was in a strawberry rhubarb pie a friend’s dad made when I came over to her house. So I figured the easiest way for me to use it for my very first time would be by making a strawberry rhubarb syrup I’d then use for homemade soda.

I don’t drink soda at all unless it’s made from a small or local company that doesn’t use high fructose corn syrup. I stopped drinking soda after the second time I had braces when I was in 7th grade, and it was a great thing that I did it then. Because of this, it’s even more gratifying when I made a syrup for soda myself because I know exactly what I put into it, and I know that there’s nothing artificial about what I’ve made. And it’s pure sugar, for better or for worse. It’s a lot of effort, but it makes me really happy at the end, and it makes me even happier to share it with other people who can appreciate pure ingredients and the taste of real fruit flavors.

Dry meat

I hate roasting turkey. It’s one of those things I think I never really get quite right. The one time I did it and the dark meat came out incredibly moist and tender, the breast still ended up a bit dry. It’s saved quite easily with some good gravy, but it still drives me crazy. And that was when I had the turkey cut into parts because I can’t roast a whole turkey in our tiny oven.

I tried roasting just drumsticks and thighs yesterday afternoon, and the meat was every kind of “bad” there is: some pieces were rubbery, others were tough, and some were just so hard that I had to throw them out. There were a few small morsels of moist pieces, but I felt like my entire afternoon was wasted on this meat. I eventually salvaged most of it and made a curry for it, but I still felt like a failure. I’m determined to try a brine to get this right the next time… which will probably be for early Thanksgiving in November.

Some people think cooking comes naturally to people. I think those some people are lazy asses who have no idea how much concentration and work and effort and tweaking goes into these things. Yes, some people have more of a natural interest in cooking, but that doesn’t necessarily make them good. This is one of my cooking fails, along with my attempts at Korean pajeon, Cuban rice and beans, and Portuguese bread (that was so bad that my mom banned me from using her kitchen to re-attempt making it ever again).

Home cooking

Tonight at my friend’s birthday event, I met a young married couple who cooks meals from scratch almost every single night except when they go out to eat. In New York, this is a complete rarity. Even I don’t cook every night — Sunday is my night to cook for the week. Occasionally I will cook things on other days, but for the most part, it’s once or twice a week, and that’s it. Their main concerns are over sanitation, and just the fact that so many things that people find so daunting and complex, like a whole roasted chicken, are actually really simple if you are just willing to give it a little time to perfect your method and just do it and stop just talking about it. I couldn’t have agreed with them more, and as they were hating on companies like Blue Apron and Plated, which are like the lazy man’s way to cook, someone came by to defend it by saying that he actually didn’t have time to measure out simple things like salt.

I hate it when people say they don’t have time. We all have time. Most of us are busy with one thing or another. But we all make time for what’s important to us. Perhaps cooking and health are not important to him, but I personally think that everyone should know how to cook basic foods just as a method to survive and not get ripped off by restaurants… and to not always eat food that you don’t even know the ingredients of.

Anti-grain flours

A friend gave me butternut squash, sweet potato, and apple flours (non-GMO-certified, of course) as a birthday gift. It was certainly a unique present, as I had no idea that fruit and vegetable “flours” were even being made. I’ve made my own almond flour, but fruit flour is so novel to me. Then again, I guess I shouldn’t be that surprised with all the crazy food movements for gluten-free, soy-free, nut-free, paleo, etc.

I spent some time on anti-grain.com looking at recipes for my new flours. I found an interesting cheese bread, and even pastas. i can make my own sweet potato pasta noodles! It’s a new culinary area for me to explore. I love my regular wheat flour, but this will just add variety to my pantry and perhaps make me realize that a gluten-free diet really could be feasible (and tasty) in today’s world.

I’m still not giving up my wheat, though.

Cookbooks

Today, a friend gifted me an Indian cookbook. It’s a bit different this time because he actually got it through a Kickstarter project that he funded, which I really appreciate.

I think that as someone who cooks, I am seen as someone who would appreciate cookbooks, and so as a result, I have received an endless number of cookbooks from everyone from my own relatives to even colleagues. A number of them are cookbooks that are better as coffee table cookbooks (i.e. you wouldn’t ever really cook using their recipes, but damn, the photos are great), and some of them are kind of dumbed down versions of the authentic cuisine that I am after when I am preparing food at home.

I’m hoping this cookbook is better than my other Indian cookbook, which was also a gift and written by a reputable Indian chef. In this cookbook, every time I used any of the recipes, I always had to either double or triple the amount of spices she recommended or add additional spices to make the dish taste “more Indian.” When this happens, you know that your source isn’t reliable… when you feel more Indian than the Indian chef you are trying to imitate.