Diana Kennedy, the British-born author of several books on Mexican cuisines, died last month. Her New York Times obituary is here. Her death caused me to think about cultural appropriation in the food world: how newcomers or foreigners become authorities (authentic, such as Kennedy, or self-appointed) on a particular cuisine.
One of Diana Kennedy’s books from my collection.
Here are a few historic examples of food cultural appropriation. When Europeans settled in North America, they adopted Indigenous foods such as corn and potatoes without acknowledging the sources. White ladies would pass off recipes from their Black cooks as their own for Junior League cookbooks and other fundraising purposes. Then we have fusion cuisine, mash-ups of various foodways that can be excellent or abysmal. Wasabi mayonnaise, anyone?
Food cultural appropriation cuts both ways. Flour tortillas weren’t part of the Indigenous Mexican diet until Spanish colonization. Vietnamese banh mi sandwiches were an outgrowth of French colonization. Spam became part of Hawaiian diets when the military brought it over during World War II. Hawaii can claim the title of the most fusion cuisine in the United States.
After ruminating and writing, I’ve decided that it’s all cultural appropriation. There is no pure cuisine in this time of global travel and publications. Even Jacques Pépin doesn’t consider himself a French chef anymore.
We acquired a new family member earlier this month, Dudley. He’s a Russian Blue from the same cattery where we got Luka and Neli. As you can tell by the photo below, he meows a lot. He didn’t read the breed’s Code of Conduct that states that Russian Blues are quiet. And yes, his ears are really that big. He might grow into them eventually. Then again, he could always look like Baby Yoda.
Luka and Neli were both shipped to us by the breeder. This year airlines didn’t want to be responsible for any animals traveling unaccompanied with the number of canceled flights. I recounted our tale of woe getting to Grand Rapids in an earlier post. So we met the breeder at the Cleveland Airport for the flight back to Seattle. This was the first time we’d met her in person. She’s been breeding these cats for many years and socializes them well.
Dudley slept in his carrier under the seat for the first half of the flight, then he started to meow. And meow. And meow. Luckily, his meows were drowned out by the preponderance of screaming toddlers on the plane. And he yowled all the way home in the car. Luckily, a little food and a quiet room calmed him down so we could sleep through the night.
As for the introduction to Neli, it’s a work in progress after two weeks. Dudley follows her around and wants to play. She wants no part of this usurper, and emphasizes it with growls, hisses, and occasional slaps. The Tsarina shall remain the alpha cat despite Dudley’s efforts. A détente may happen at some point.
O’Hare Airport in Chicago has Cannabis Amnesty Boxes. This allows people to ditch their weed before going through airport security, although we saw them in the concourses after security. The boxes look like a ballot or mail drop box, with slots that don’t allow you to stick your arm in to retrieve any goodies. (I’m sure some people have tried.) I thought about taking a photo of one, but decided against it lest some airport security person confiscate my phone. This article explains that the boxes are rarely used. I don’t know if this idea has spread to other states, but it seems like a humane idea. Sure beats prison in a foreign country where cannabis is illegal.
You’ve probably heard many horror stories of airline travel this summer. Our Europe trip was relatively stress-free, with the exception of the Bordeaux airport. In contrast, our trip to Grand Rapids, Michigan last week was a hot mess. Here’s our tale of woe:
We’re in the Midwest to retrieve our new kitten and visit family and friends. The flight to O’Hare was uneventful. When we looked at the departures monitor upon landing, we learned that our 3 pm flight to Grand Rapids was canceled due to weather. We looked out the window: nothing but blue skies. We went to the customer service desk. The rep put us on the standby list for the 6 pm flight and got us seats for the 9 pm flight. We walked around the airport, then settled in at the gate for the 6 pm flight. The plane’s capacity was 50 passengers, with 37 folks on standby. We didn’t make that flight, so we walked around some more and ate dinner at an overpriced Italian restaurant. We went to the gate and waited. The skies were clouding up and getting very dark. First the flight was postponed, then canceled until 7 am the next day. The passengers went ballistic. The gate personnel were overwhelmed. A supervisor was at the gate and attempted to mollify the crowd. Her comment about the airline management: “The right hand doesn’t know what the left hand’s doing.” I made a hotel reservation so we wouldn’t have to sleep in O’Hare overnight. (I was stuck sleeping there 16 years ago and didn’t want to repeat the experience.) At least half of the passengers left the airport for hotels. NOT FIVE MINUTES after I made the reservation, the gate personnel announced that the flight would go at 11:30 with a different crew. We got on the flight and landed in Grand Rapids after 1 am.
In retrospect, it’s best that this mess occurred en route to the Midwest. Fingers crossed that we don’t run into more woes on the flight from Cleveland to Seattle with a hungry, squeaky kitten.
Some cookbooks and magazines will try to convince you that a particular recipe is perfect or ideal. I’m dubious of such claims. The old adage, to each their own, applies to cooking and baking. A few examples:
Tastes change. For years my mother and I would make a particular zucchini bread recipe every summer, which called for one cup of oil per loaf. I’ll admit that the resulting loaf was quite moist. It was also quite greasy. I haven’t made any zucchini bread in years because Julian’s averse to the vegetable; even so, I’d still be reluctant to make that recipe.
Cooking methods evolve – or not. Let’s say you developed a perfect stir-fry that required you to crank up the gas burner to 12 to get sufficient heat to the wok. A couple of years later you find yourself living in a home with an anemic electric range and no possibility of a gas hookup. (Been there, done that.) You either adapt the perfect recipe to your current situation or put it in the “someday” file. This is why it can be difficult for friends or relatives to duplicate your perfection.
Availability of ingredients. This is a big one for those of us who’ve moved cross-country more than once. Even though we have a little Mexican bodega around the corner from us, I’ve never tried to find some of the ingredients I cooked with in Dallas. And finding good salt-water fish in, say, Nebraska? Forget about it. Luckily, Seattle has plenty of Asian grocery stores where I can find the required ingredients for most of my recipes.
The next time you see a recipe being touted as perfect, ask yourself: For whom? How? With what ingredients? As a former colleague used to tell her students: strive for excellence, not perfection.
I offered to make pizza tonight. I didn’t feel like kneading dough. In addition, the amount of dough I needed for the two of us wasn’t enough to use the stand mixer. So I let the yeast do the work.
I used a crust recipe out of the King Arthur Flour 200th Anniversary Cookbook, which appears to be out of print. I mixed together the ingredients with my trusty dough whisk until it formed a rough ball, then covered the bowl and let it rise. Once an hour for four hours, I punched down the dough and turned it over. When I was ready, I pressed the dough into a half sheet pan and let it rise for about 20 minutes. In the meantime, I preheated the oven to 500° with a baking stone on a lower shelf. Then I loaded the crust with sauce, accessories, and cheese. It took about 15 minutes to bake. The crust was sufficiently puffy without being too bready. I’ll do this again.
Sometimes even a small watermelon can last well over a week in our house. I had about half an icebox melon that need to be used. The answer was to make agua fresca. The recipe can’t be easier: chop up a watermelon, purée in a blender with mint, and serve over ice with a little sparkling water. You can do this with other fruit, but watermelon has one of the highest percentages of water of any fruit. If you want to add some alcohol, vodka or rum would work well. Bottoms up!
Now that some of us are venturing back to the office (or at least getting out of the house more) and needing to update our wardrobes, I have a suggestion for women’s clothing designers: put pockets on your offerings. None of these wimpy little pouches that won’t fit a credit card, or decorative flaps that hint at pockets but are a cruel hoax. I mean real pockets that can hold a cell phone or a typical set of house and car keys.
There are times when I don’t want to carry my purse, but still need to stash my keys and maybe a few bucks somewhere. For example, when I go out for a walk or get some milk at the fruit stand around the corner from home. Pockets in my jeans or jackets are essential so I’m not juggling half a dozen things in two hands or leave the keys on a shelf somewhere. When I’m out on a bike ride, I need to bring my phone in case of emergency. Some bike jerseys accommodate cell phones better than others. Most bike leggings have no pockets whatsoever. If I’m running errands on the bike, I’ll wear a backpack that contains my wallet and a lock; however, I prefer to travel lighter when I’m riding for workout purposes.
Some athletic wear manufacturers have gotten the hint. I have a couple pairs of bike shorts and leggings that have pockets large enough for my phone. Now if other clothing designers catch on, we’ll have some progress.
Two weeks ago it was a mass shooting by an 18-year-old male at a Tops grocery store in Buffalo, killing 10 adults. Last Tuesday it was a mass shooting by an 18-year-old male at Robb Elementary School in Uvalde, Texas, killing 19 children and 2 adults. While the settings and states were different, the common thread in both these tragedies was legal access to a weapon of mass destruction, an AR-15.
As I’ve posted before, I don’t have any trouble with responsible gun ownership. What does this mean to me? I believe that folks have the right to own pistols, shotguns, or rifles for hunting and shooting range purposes. I also believe that responsible gun owners should be trained to handle, shoot, and store their guns and ammunition safely. Children should not be able to grab a gun to play with, nor should a depressed teenager use a parent’s gun to commit suicide. There is no need for semi-automatic weapons or high-capacity magazines in a home. The only purpose for for these is mass murder with minimal skill required.
The Second Amendment to the United States Constitution is bandied about a lot on this issue. Muskets were the predominant firearm of the day. One shot and you’d have to spend a minute or two reloading the weapon to get a second chance at a deer or a marauder. If one takes the Constitutional Originalist view, muskets should be the only firearm allowed in a home. Just a thought.
We haven’t seen many ducklings and goslings this year. Some of that is due to our vacation last month. Late April is prime gosling hatch time. Most of the goslings we’ve seen lately are in the awkward teenage stage. The ducklings are staying well concealed. I’ve seen a couple of clutches of them, but not as many as in years past.
The main reason, at least from my vantage point, is the plethora of predators in the neighborhood. Our backyard leading to the river is in the direct sightline of a bald eagle nest. We often see one or the other eagle (Eddie and Emily) on a branch above the nest scouring the neighborhood for a meal. Then there are the coyotes. This is the time of year when pups are born and need to be weaned. Yesterday morning I saw a clutch of mallard adults and ducklings rush into the river. A coyote was sauntering up the riverbank, obviously in search of breakfast. It’s no wonder that our local waterfowl prefer more sheltered locations to raise their young.
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