Girl Detective

My friend Queenie and I finally managed to plan a night out for dinner, leaving the kids at home with our respective husbands. Eating out without Drake was a huge relief. I could relax, sit back, and focus on my friend and the meal without having to worry, wrangle, and admonish. Also, we could pick a restaurant for grownups, so we did. We went to Vincent in downtown Minneapolis. Vincent has a good staff, is not pretentious, and has wonderful food at non-outlandish prices. The best meal I’ve had there was the chef’s tasting menu, which G. Grod and I tried for our anniversary one year. This time, though, I wanted something a little less fancy–the Vincent burger. It’s been awarded the “Best Gourmet Burger” in the twin cities, and it is quite something. It has beef short ribs surrounded by chopped sirloin, topped with smoked gouda and a mayonnaise sauce studded with bits of cornichon. Officially, this burger is only available for lunch and at the bar, but when I asked the hostess, she said we could order it for dinner in the main dining room if we liked. I suspect the question has been asked before. This is a burger to dream about, accompanied, of course, by a generous pile of salty, crunchy frites.

We did not, though, go to a nice French restaurant and only get the burger. To start, Queenie ordered her favorite appetizer, the beet carpaccio. The thin-sliced ruby beets are garnished with nuggets of goat cheese and a tangle of lightly dressed frisee greens. I was torn between getting a former favorite, the pan-seared scallops with leeks and fingerling potatoes in orange sauce, or trying something new. Feeling brave, I ordered the seared prawns with seaweed salad in a tamari vinaigrette. I was not disappointed, though I was glad to be feeling brave, since I had to shimmy the heads off the prawns. The seared fish combined with the cool salad and the salty dressing was a balanced ensemble.

We could not finish our burgers; our server assured us that this was the norm. Nonetheless we contemplated the dessert menu, and debated between ordering one or two. After deciding on one, the server misunderstood and brought both, which was hardly a tragedy. Queenie got the Three Creams: creme caramel, creme brulee and pot de creme. The extra accidental dessert was the mixed berries with old-fashioned ricotta. It was too sweet for my taste with its strawberry sauce, but we both enjoyed sharing all three creams in what we both agreed was the superior dessert. Full and happy, we returned to our homes, glad to be reminded that dining out need not end with the advent of a child, though it does entail more planning challenges.

I am currently obsessing about the Entertainment Weekly TV preview issue and why the heck I haven’t been able to get a copy yet. I’ve considered getting a subscription so I can stop this annual haunting of the newstands, but the Minneapolis post office can be slow, and it IS only this one issue that I crave.

I am currently paranoid about listeria. It is the one food poisoning that can cross the placenta, and in the past few weeks I’ve been laughing in the face of danger, consuming lunch meat, blue cheese, unpasteurized honey. I figured, hey, it’s rare and I’ll know if I get it within 48 hours. Apparently it can take WEEKS to manifest, and while rare it is usually deadly to the fetus. So I’m regretting my blithe, “this is my second pregnancy; no need to be paranoid like the first” attitude, and will be paranoid for the next month, at least.

I am currently fretting about pants. My regular pants and skirts don’t fit in the waist. Maternity wear looks as if I’m playing dress up. I’m in that awkward stage, which I hope I grow out of soon.

I am currently looking forward to watching TV tonight. My husband G. Grod and I call it “Sci-Fi Friday.” After Drake goes to bed we watch the Tivo’d Firefly then Battlestar Galactica, which has gotten crazy good.

I am currently between books, having just finished two whoppingly good ones, Francine Prose’s A Changed Man and Muriel Sparks’s The Driver’s Seat. Haven’t committed to the next book yet. Candidates include Other Electricities by Ander Monson, Tricked graphic novel by Alex Robinson, and The Skin Chairs by Barbara Comyns.

I am currently feeling a bit better from the cold, and a strange but not uncommon-for-me home-economy resolve has surfaced, which is to clear out the fridge, the freezer and the pantry of the stuff that’s been sitting around for weeks or longer and use it up. I have a LOT of rhubarb, though. And I don’t even like rhubarb.

I’m not sure the State Fair visit number 2 was a good idea. I left with a stomachache, probably having sampled one food too many (honey/sunflower-seed ice cream, I’m lookin’ at you.)

Unsurprisingly, the fair is much easier to manage with 2 parents to each child, rather than on mom-to-man defense. Drake had his first pronto pup, the Minnesotan version of a hot dog on a stick, dipped in batter and deep fried. Apparently, corn dogs are an Iowa thing, according to our friends. We also had fried cheese curds (I miss them already), Puff Daddy on a Stick–thai sausage wrapped in puff pastry on a stick drizzled with a peanut sauce (Sausage Sister & Me does badly named but delicious fair food. We also enjoyed their Little Sistazz, finger-food sausage slices in puff pastry), then root beer, a breakfast burrito with guac from Tejas (free coffee!), roasted sweet corn, mini-donuts, Cinnie Smith’s mini cinnamon rolls, and finished with a cider freezie for Drake and the regrettable ice cream for me, which has lost its place on the list. G. Grod got to see a butter sculpture of one of the princess candidates being carved, so he felt his mission to the fair had not been in vain. I see the butter sculptures like most regional oddities–once is perhaps more than enough. Then again, G. Grod only feels the need to go to the fair once a year, as opposed to me, who wants to go as many times as it takes to try all the food that I fancy.

My must-have fair treats list is now honed to cheese curds, Sister & Me sausage, World’s Best french fries, roast corn, Sweet Martha’s chocolate chip cookies, mini donuts, 1919 root beer, and Cinnie Smith’s mini cinnamon rolls.

The food critic for the Star Tribune, Rick Nelson, listed these at the not-to-miss foods that debuted this year. Of them, I only tried the cinnamon rolls and Puff Daddy, but both were so excellent that I will add the other items to next year’s list to try. Of course, next year’s fair visit will be more challenging, since it’s likely I’ll be herding both Drake and his little sibling. Perhaps I’ll need to make three trips to try it all.

- Frozen Mocha on a Stick (Minnesota Farmers Union Coffee Shop, Dan Patch Avenue at Cosgrove Street).
- Mini cinnamon rolls (Cinni Smiths, Murphy Avenue at Cooper Street).
- Sorbet in hollowed-out fruit (Key Lime Pie Bar, Cooper Street at the Skyride).
- Spiral Chips (Sonny’s Spiral Chips & Sandwiches, Food Building).
- Puff Daddy on a Stick (Sausage Sister & Me, Food Building).
- Smoked salmon wrap (Giggles’ Campfire Grill, Cooper Street at Lee Avenue).

I took two-year-old Drake to the Minnesota State Fair this morning with another mom and her son, and I’m happy to say he had a better time than he did last year. The State Fair is one of my favorite events of the summer. I don’t care about rides, or attractions, or displays. I go for the food. Last year, Drake hardly ate a thing. This year, he was much more engaged.

We started with breakfast burritos at Tejas in the food building, then ran out to get a cup of 1919 root beer and a small basket of World’s Best french fries to watch local television personalities Chef Andrew and M.A. Roscoe do a guacomole-making demonstration. Drake didn’t want either the burrito or the excellent guacamole, but he tackled both the root beer and french fries with enthusiasm. Our next stop was my friend’s priority, the roasted corn stand by the grandstand. The boys ran up and down, always coming back for a bite of the roasted, buttered corn. Next was Sweet Martha’s for a cone of chocolate-chip cookies and a cup of milk. Drake and his toddler friend started dancing to the music coming out of the arcade next door. We continued on to the baby animal barn, which has the somewhat concerning name “Miracle of Birth” building. I’ve given birth, and miraculous wouldn’t be the first adjective I’d choose. Messy fits better, I think. We saw a baby horse, baby turkeys, baby sheep and a new calf, but I had to leave before we went further. The crowds were too much for a small building, and Drake was screaming and kicking in my arms. He was soon appeased, though, by a cider freezie from the agriculture building. As we made out way back to the parking lot, I tried a new treat with an unfortunate name, the Fudge Puppy, which is a piece of Belgian waffle on a stick covered in chocolate and topped with whipped cream. My friend and I agreed that it was good, but no different than a chocolate covered fried doughnut. Much more impressive were the mini cinnamon buns at Cinnie Smith’s, new this year to the fair. The little buns were airy and not greasy, hot but not scalding, and had just the right amount of cinnamon-spiced goo. The frosting was a good complement, but only in moderation. I regretted a too-enthusiastic dunk of one of my last minis.

There were a few of my favorite foods that time and toddlers did not permit me to sample: fried cheese curds, mini-donuts, sausage, honey-sunflower-seed ice cream and a lemon shake. Luckily, we have another fair trip planned for the weekend, so I will have one more opportunity to indulge my annual craving for delicious and spectaculary unhealthy foods.

2002 State Fair entry

There are two problems, and they’re simple.

First, takeout is usually not very good. There is something about pre-prepared food other than pizza that seems to disintegrate by the time it gets home. Since I avoid fast food and most packaged foods, my choices are somewhat limited. Again and again I’ve tried prepared foods from our grocery coop, or takeout from restaurants that I normally like. Too often, it is merely mediocre. As regular readers may have divined, I’m not a big fan of mediocre. Mediocre, as far as I’m concerned, is bad. Food is either good or it’s not.

Second, takeout is usually expensive. There is a premium for convenience. This second point often accompanies and exacerbates the first–the takeout is bad AND it’s expensive. For our family of limited means, this is a cruel double whammy.

A further wrinkle is location. There may be good, reasonably priced takeout places here and there, but unless they’re close to me, they’re largely useless.

I rant because we tried a place last night for the second time. As before, the food was so-so, and the price was high. There was little prep and cleanup, which G. Grod and I were grateful for, since we both have dreadful, lingering viruses. But the cost, both in money and in middling food, is just too high. It is with dread that I contemplate tonight’s dinner.

Why is good takeout so hard to find? Why?

Drake turned two over the weekend, and we invited a few of his friends and their parents to our house to celebrate. The parents had a good time, the kids played well together, and Drake was still wound up the next day from all the fun. We ordered pizza and I made three kinds of cupcakes: yellow with chocolate ganache frosting, dark chocolate with cream-cheese frosting, and carrot with vanilla-bean cream-cheese frosting. For party favors, we went shopping at our favorite used bookstore and got a selection of Drake’s favorite picture books, by Kevin Henkes, Russell Hoban, and James Marshall, mostly. I was very stressed getting the house in order beforehand, but I love the aftermath of a party–everything is tidy and presentable.

I learned to cook when I found myself living alone for the first time in a tiny sublet that had a food processor. My mom sent me a copy of The Moosewood Cookbook, not because I was vegetarian but because it was easier to learn to cook on vegetables. I was so ignorant that I had to ask a foodie friend whether a clove of garlic was one segment or the whole head. (She never forgot that. Never mind that I’d been pretty sure of the answer, and was just checking to be certain. Years later she still laughed.)

It was a few years later that another foodie got me a subscription to Cook’s Illustrated. I’d read other cooking magagazines before–Food and Wine, Gourmet, and Bon Appetit. I liked them fine, though I found them largely the same. Cook’s Illustrated, though, was something else. It had no ads, just a few recipes per issue, plus a tasting and an equipment testing. Best of all, they were obsessed with food, so that when they published a recipe, they let you know just how many times and what variations were tried before arriving at the final recipe. It was like the Consumer Reports of cooking. I have been a subscriber now for about ten years.

A few years ago they began a show on PBS, America’s Test Kitchen. I was surprised to find that the show was a good complement to the magazine. It highlighted just a few recipes, plus one tasting and one testing. It featured staff from the magazine, and they were fun to watch. The style of the show was like the magazine–straightforward, not fancy, and above all, informational.

Last summer I spent a lot of time away when we sold our condo and bought a house. I decided to sign up for Cook’s Online, which includes all the recipes, as well as searchable databases. It has been a useful subscription even when I’m home and have access to all my back issues of Cook’s.

Finally, last year Cook’s sent out a solicitation for their new sister magazine, Cook’s Country, which a friend has jokingly called “Red-State Cook’s”. I was going to pass, since I felt one subscription plus online was enough, but was swayed by the “try it for free” offer. When it arrived, I prepared to write cancel on the invoice. That is, until my husband waved the magazine in my face and said excitedly, “Have you seen this? There are about seven recipes I want to make in here!” And so we became subscribers to Cook’s Country, as well.

We were converts to the Cook’s empire, then, but I’d managed to shed other cooking magazines and shows. Then a friend recommended Everyday Food, a digest-sized mag from the Martha Stewart empire. I checked it out, and found it had good photography and simple recipes that were true to the title. I also found they had a cooking show. The show, though, like the magazine, features a lot of recipes. It goes through them very quickly. There are some tidbits of information, but they are mostly very basic cooking tips, like generously salt water for pasta, and save some pasta water to thin the sauce if necessary. It isn’t a bad show, but I found it redundant to the magazine for me. Perhaps it would be more useful to someone newer to the cooking learning curve, however. I am going to give the magazine a try, though I’ve had a hard time tracking it down in stores. It features simple, straightforward recipes that would be ideal for weeknight cooking. I think it could be a good balance for Cook’s, which favors quality above all, sometimes resulting in longer cooking times.

My first “dinner party” was a disaster a la Bridget Jones. I had invited a few good friends over, and planned an overambitious menu. I had no sense of timing or the recipes. I was making a risotto for the very first time with roasted garlic. I burned the garlic, and one of the guests had to coach me through the risotto, which seemed to take hours. I forget what there was besides the risotto, but I’d planned some sort of ice cream concoction at the end that I didn’t have time to put together. We ended up just eating plain ice cream from the carton.

Some of the lessons I learned right away: Do not cook a recipe for guests that I haven’t made already. One time-consuming recipe a night (if that). Always have a dessert back up in case time runs out.

But one risotto lesson has taken me many more years to learn. I’d buy a bag of arborio rice, make risotto, be reminded of how time consuming it is (even when I use the dump-and-stir method recommended by Cook’s Illustrated, of dumping in the first 3 cups of liquid, letting it boil down, then adding the rest in 1/2 c. increments) and how it doesn’t always make a meal itself, and often doesn’t leave leftovers, or at least tasty ones. So the bag of arborio would sit in my pantry until I was sufficiently removed from the experience to try risotto again. That bag would usually provide 2 to 3 risottos. I was always frustrated that no matter how long I cooked the rice, it still had a chalky texture. Then I bought a new bag, and noticed that the risotto wasn’t chalky. I realized the months-old, pantry-sitting arborio was probably to blame. So my new lesson on risotto is to buy arborio rice from the bulk section, in just the amount I need. I do the same thing with lentils. Just because something is dried doesn’t mean that it can’t be too dry. So now I only buy fresh dried lentils and arborio. It definitely makes a difference.

Since when is blue raspberry a “classic” Jolly Rancher flavor? I’m pleased that they stopped including the yucky lemon flavor, and the other flavors make sense: cherry, watermelon, apple, grape. I used to really like the raspberry flavor, but its new, blue color is off-putting. Perhaps they thought that two red flavors in one bag were two many, so they turned raspberries blue and left out the quite nice strawberry, which I’d much prefer to grape.

I wrote recently about nostalgic food. I always think of Jolly Ranchers as pool food. When we were little, my mom would take me and my sisters to the public pool and give us a little money to spend at the snack bar. The big Jolly Rancher bars were a favorite treat. Not as good as the chocolate scooter crunch ice cream bars, but cheaper and really good.

The term comfort food can cover a lot of bases. It can be what one seeks out when depressed, ill, or fatigued. For me it can also encompass nostalgia–this food from that favorite restaurant, or this food because I used to eat it with that person.

Last month, I visited the east coast. A friend picked me up at the train station, and I said I needed something to eat. She mentioned a restaurant I’d never much liked, but that was close. To my surprise and delight, she had mixed up what was where, and we walked instead into a new location of a bakery that I loved when I lived there. I did not see either of the two favorite treats I used to get, but I asked with tentative hope for a berry roll or a grape focaccia. Imagine my further delight: they had both. They heated the focaccia and toasted the berry roll, then gave me goat cheese to spread on it. My friend shared the details of her new academic fellowship while I munched on two favorite foods that I’d often eaten in her company years ago. It was a lovely reunion, however brief, with my friend. It was all the more lovely for the serendipitous addition of favored food.

I am very much enjoying Frito Lay’s Natural Doritos and Lay’s potato chips. I know that Doritos and Natural seem like an oxymoron. Perhaps they are, but I have a hard time closing the bag.

As for the Lay’s, I showed it to Drake and said, “Look, it’s the yellow bag of happiness.” I didn’t plan on saying that. It just popped out.

I think I might have a snack food problem.

Years behind everyone else, I recently finished reading Fast Food Nation. Overall, I found the book discouraging, but not surprising. It details many disgusting, inhumane practices of the fast food and meat industries. One of the most disturbing facts is that there is little or no regulation or testing on meat that is sold to public schools. Kids are most likely to get the worst meat.

My most lasting impression from the book is that I am very fortunate. I do not risk life or limb at my job. I can afford food that is grown and created conscientiously. I am, indeed, lucky.

Most happy and fortunate were the days when the bold knight Don Quixote of La Mancha sallied forth into the world, since, because of his honorable resolve to resuscitate and return to the world the lost and dying order of knight errantry, we can now enjoy in our own time, which is so in need of joyful entertainment, not only the sweetness of his true history, but also the stories and episodes that appear in it and are, in some ways, no less agreeable and artful and true than the history itself… (p. 227)

I am reading Don Quixote. Charmed by the editor’s preface and undaunted by the needlessly pendantic introduction by Harold Bloom, I read a little bit each day. I am about a quarter of the way through. Don Quixote is easier for me to read early in the day. Like Shakespeare’s, the prose requires a bit more attention than that of modern authors, but just a bit. Grossman’s translation is quite accessible.

My mind works by analogy. Also, I am rather obsessed with food. I was pleased to see that the featured cheese for May of the Twin Cities food co-ops is Manchego.

Originally made from the milk of sheep on the plains of La Mancha, it is a rich, golden, semi-firm cheese with a full, mellow flavor. It is excellent as a table cheese and melts well.

Try it:

*Melted on an open-faced sandwich of rare beef, a slice of hearty, toasted sourdough bread, au jus and a little garlic aioli.

*Serve with smoky Idiazabol, Cabrales, Mahon, fresh figs and Marcona almonds as a Spanish party tray.

*Wrap small chunks of Manchego with thinly sliced prosciutto or serrano ham as an appetizer.

–from Mix, a Twin Cities Natural Good Co-ops Publication (www.mwnaturalfoods.coop)

Most of these items are available at Twin Cities Co-ops. If you don’t feel up to making them yourself, Twin Citians can also visit Solera in downtown Minneapolis, for a stunning selection of lovely, delicious tapas.

A few years ago, I periodically felt like I couldn’t adequately fill my lungs with air. I had allergy tests and pulmonary function tests, all of which came back normal. On the recommendation of a co-worker, I went to see a holistic chiropractor. After a series of tests, he told me to stop eating wheat. I took the advice a step further and stopped eating gluten. This meant no pizza, pasta or cereal. It also meant learning what things contain hidden gluten, like soy sauce, which is brewed with wheat.

After several weeks on the new diet, I felt much better. My breathing troubles were gone. Additionally, so were the severe abdominal cramps I’d been having on such a regular basis that I’d come to accept them as part of the natural digestive process. I was eating more fruits and veggies to compensate for the lack of wheat products, so I was eating more mindfully and healthfully. As a result, I lost weight, though I didn’t restrict my diet beyond eliminating gluten. Eating out was more difficult, but I learned both to read menus and to work with servers. In general, gluten-free items were not as good as those made with wheat, but I found a very good mail-order bakery whose muffins, biscotti, and brownies disproved this. (Gluten-free bread, though, was always a compromise.) Every so often I would eat something with gluten in it when the temptation became too much. I told myself that occasional consumption might not be good for me physically, but it would stave off feelings of bitter deprivation and self-pity. Each time I indulged, I felt ill the next day. Never so ill that I couldn’t function, but nonetheless bad enough that I would return to my restricted diet.

I did not get the medical test to determine if I had gluten intolerance for two reasons. One, it involved resuming gluten intake fully until the test. Two, the test, if positive, is followed by an intestinal biopsy. I did not welcome the idea of getting a piece of my intestine cut out.

A few months ago, though, I had digestive troubles while traveling, even though I adhered to my gluten-free diet. Perhaps it was time, I thought, to seek out the medical diagnosis. Confirming it would mean that I could embrace my restricted diet without the little voice of doubt in the back of my head. If it wasn’t confirmed, then I could go back to eating gluten, and wouldn’t that be swell?

My first days back on gluten were mixed. I was thrilled to be eating things that I had avoided for three years, but not feeling well as a result. I had to consume gluten for two weeks for the test to be effective, though, so I had to persevere. I could hardly wait to try all the things I’d denied myself for so long–pizza, pasta, bread, donuts, cupcakes, and more. What I began to suspect, though, was that my feeling unwell could be caused, or at least complicated by, overindulgence in sugary carbs. As the novelty of eating gluten again wore off, my diet became less sugarful, and I gradually felt better. Perhaps, as my husband G. Grod had long surmised, my body needed more than one or two times of gluten for it to become re-accustomed to digesting it. I went in for the test, and several weeks later got the result, which was negative. There was no indication that I should have a biopsy.

This is good news, but I have mixed feelings. I appreciate not having to restrict my diet, which is hard not only on me but also on those around me. But I continue to have a hard time eating as consciously and healthfully as I did when I was gluten free, and I’ve gained some weight very quickly with the change. I also am plagued by the worry that I followed a gluten-free diet for three years when I didn’t need to. Yet my breathing problems vanished and have not re-appeared with the resumption of gluten, plus I learned how to eat and manage my weight better. Overall, I am very fortunate to have my previous diagnosis overturned. I just need to learn how to find balance again in my diet.

Here is a list of good gluten-free resources and foodstuffs that I found, both through trial and error and through recommendation.

Tinkyada rice pasta
Glutano Ritz-style crackers
Gluten Solutions market
Celiac.com
Living Without magazine
Ener-G or Glutino pretzels
Kinnikinnick pizza crusts and donuts
The Silly Yak bakery

Tender at the Bone by Ruth Reichl was Book 22 in my 50 book challenge for 2005. I’ve had this sitting on my TBR pile for years, having picked it up along with her second memoir, Comfort Me with Apples, which is a quote from the bible’s “Song of Solomon.” Reichl’s third memoir, Garlic and Sapphires, was just released, reminding me that the first two memoirs languished on my shelves. Reichl is a strong writer, and intersperses her personal history of her relationship with food with recipes that relate to the tale. Like her writing, the recipes are clear and inviting. In the end, though, I felt something was lacking. I consciously admired the book, but it did not move me to affection. Must all memoirists have crazy mothers, I wondered as I read, in this case a manic-depressive whom Reichl dubbed “The Queen of Mold” for her tendency to use outdated food. Reichl found what humor she could in their relationship over the years, but eventually it becomes too painful, and the quick redemption she finds at the end seems like a small bandage on a gaping wound. Another reason for my perceived lack of closure might be the two other memoirs that carry on the narrative. I’ll read Comfort Me with Apples, certainly, since I already own it, and use that as the litmus to decide whether to read Garlic and Sapphires. My hope is that the reading of Reichl’s second memoir will stand on its own, as well as retroactively enhance my reading of the first.

Yesterday I wrote on a salad I’d made with arugula, shallot dressing, strawberries, toasted almonds and honeyed goat cheese. (My spidey sense said that hazelnuts would have been better than almonds, but the latter were what I had on hand.) Balance of flavor, texture, and amount of dressing is key to a successful salad. I worked with a woman who shared her favorite combination one day as we waited in line at the salad bar: spinach, grape tomatoes, buffalo mozzarella, asparagus, kalamata olives, garlic croutons, and shaved parmesan in a Caesar dressing. Here are a few more combinations I recommend.

Granny Smith apples, gouda cheese, and almonds
Fuji or Braeburn apples, Roquefort or goat cheese and walnuts
D’anjou pears, Roquefort cheese and pecans
Pomegranate seeds, Roquefort cheese (no nuts necessary; the seeds have crunch)
Mandarin orange segments, slivered almonds and raspberry dressing over butter lettuce (no cheese with mandarin oranges)
Segmented oranges, buffalo mozzarella, almonds and balsamic dressing over spinach
Peaches or nectarines, pea-sized dabs of mascarpone, pecans or almonds

Roquefort is my favorite blue to use. I pop it in the freezer while I assemble the other ingredients, then use the vegetable peeler to shave thin slices over each salad.

One of the most common ways to ruin a good salad is to overdress it. It is best to dress the salad just before serving, pouring on a little at a time, then fluffing or tossing with your hands for the best distribution. Add more in small amounts only as necessary. Most of the items I mentioned–fruit, cheese and nuts–should be added to indidual servings once the greens are dressed.

And the vegetables, they are plentiful. I exclaimed aloud twice in the produce section while grocery shopping on Saturday. First in dismay at the astronomical price of organic asparagus. ($7.49 a pound! I went on to buy frozen.) Then in surprise and delight when I saw something I hadn’t come across in months, fresh arugula. (Only $1.99–take that, organic asparagus!) I went on to fill my basket with all sorts of lovely fruits and vegetables, and I breathed a sigh of happiness that spring is finally here, even in the produce aisle.

It took me a long time to come around to the peppery, distinctive flavor of arugula. Now it is one of my favorite greens, and a staple in one of our favorite easy recipes, grilled flank steak with shaved parmesan served over arugula salad with a lemon-y dressing.

Joy of joys, though, we had leftover arugula, which I was able to incorporate into a salad the following night. I made a shallot dressing and topped the greens with sliced fresh strawberries, toasted almonds and Capra goat cheese with honey. It has taken me some years of experimenting with salads to acquire a sense for them, since the potential ingredients of lettuce, dressing, fruit, cheese, nuts, etc. can clash so wildly. This combination, though, was a success.

He looked up at his clock, which had stopped at five minutes to eleven some weeks ago.

“Nearly eleven o’clock,” said Pooh happily. “You’re just in time for a little smackerel of something,” and he put his head in the cupboard.

In our house, we don’t see the need to alter the clocks. We have our smackerel between three and four in the afternoon. My husband G. Grod and I have tea; currently it’s English Breakfast for him and camomile (not technically a tea, since it’s not made from the tea plant) with Ames Farm honey for me. Our son Drake gets diluted juice, usually prune. For food, we munch on crackers, fruit and cheese. Most recently, Drake is eating (and saying the word) dates, and learning how to eat sandwich cookies.

Our afternoon smackerel is one of my favorite family traditions. It provides a useful (and tasty) push to see us through the torpor of late afternoon.

I wrote recently here about an episode of America’s Test Kitchen in which they killed then cooked a lobster. I was surprised when the director of the show, Herb Sevush, took the time to write a detailed and thoughtful response, which I will reprint so it appears on the main page, and not hidden in the comments.

I�m glad to hear you are enjoying ATK. But if you�re upset about the lobster I�m pretty much the guy to blame.

You�d be amazed at how much time we spent discussing and debating the different ways of killing the lobsters. The way we showed you is much faster and more �humane� than boiling or freezing a lobster to death. The other problem is that we were pan broiling it and both pre-boiling or pre-freezing would have ruined the dish. We discussed starting with the lobster already cut up, but as you�re probably aware the ATK style is to show, in detail, how a dish should be prepared at home. The cutting of the lobster was too important to skip.

We know that some people are offended by the way it looks when we cut them up, especially the twitching that occurs well after they are dead. The problem is an even larger number of people like to eat lobster, and this being the most delicious lobster recipe I�ve ever tried, we wanted to present it.

So, with me leading the way, we just went for it. It�s my own opinion that eating something you’re too disgusted to watch being prepared is the height of hypocrisy. For those who don�t eat lobster and were turned off, what can I say other than we won�t do it again any time soon. Although we will break an egg from time to time.

I�m glad you liked the new science segments. We�ve been trying to come up with the right way to do science for years and then our producer discovered Odd-Todd. I think he�s a major talent.

Again, thanks for watching, and I hope the rest of this season�s offerings don�t cause you such difficulty.

Herb Sevush
Director

I was glad to learn that the method they depicted was in fact more humane than boiling (the method decried by David Foster Wallace in the Gourmet article I linked to in the original post). I was not actually surprised to learn that the staff had spent a lot of time discussing and debating both whether to show the recipe and how to do so. I have been reading Cook’s Illustrated for over ten years. I’m a huge fan of their thorough approach to food in general and recipes in particular. I took the online name of Girl Detective because I’m naturally curious, but when someone else does such a thorough job of investigating something that interests me (in this case, food), then I can trust in their work and spend my time cooking and eating, not experimenting.

I agree with Sevush’s point that it’s hypocrisy to eat something I refuse to see killed. My modern, non-agrarian life keep me insulated from the means of producing food. Sevush’s letter was a good reminder that I should put my food ethics where my squeamishness is, or get over it. I haven’t eaten lobster since seeing the episode and am not sure if I will again. If I do, though, I will now be fully cognizant of what happened on the way to my plate. And for that heightened consciousness, I thank both America’s Test Kitchen and Herb Sevush.

I’ve seen a handful of cooking shows over the years but only America’s Test Kitchen has warranted my ongoing time. In the past, at least, the show has featured practical recipes that are reasonable to make at home. It also has good segments on product tastings and gadget testings.

A recent episode included pan-roasted lobster, though, and it left me rather disturbed. It was not a recipe I was interested in watching being made, or ever making myself, and I found the repeated twitching of the lobster, in spite of cook Julia Collin’s assertions that it was “perfectly normal,” perfectly awful.

I’m not a vegetarian, but I limit my consumption of fish and meat, and seek out organic and kosher meats and fish because the animals are raised and killed more humanely. Blogenheimer recently linked to David Foster Wallace’s article for Gourmet magazine, in which he queries �Is it all right to boil a sentient creature alive just for our gustatory pleasure?� After watching that episode of America’s Test Kitchen, I feel pretty certain the answer is no.

On a more positive note, I was surprised during the episode by an animated segment on flambe, and highly entertained by it. The old science segments from the show were quite dull. The new animated one was not only interesting, but clever and informative. The animation was by Odd Todd. I hope that the show moves away from obscure recipes and on-air lobster butchering, and includes more animated cooking techniques. Otherwise my tv roster may get just a little bit shorter.