so delicious. so healthy. so... evil?

Friends, I have a gastronomic dilemma of the ethical variety.  Before I get into the details, though, let’s just talk about all the reasons  my favorite fast food restaurant, Chick-fil-a, is AWESOME:

1. Those cows are so right–chicken just tastes better than beef.
2. Chick-fil-a is healthy. Not if you order fried chicken strips, french fries and a milkshake–but they have a robust selection of healthy options that are all delicious. Every single one! My favorite is the chargrilled chicken sandwich (pictured above) with a side salad. The salad comes with sunflower seeds, y’all! SUNFLOWER SEEDS. Anything to say to that, McDonald’s? I didn’t think so.
3. Their customer service is stellar. Not only are the people nice, but when there was a tomato shortage a couple of years ago, they actually added a line item to my receipt refunding me the 10 cents for the slice of tomato that was missing from my sandwich.
4. Every winter, they have the most delicious peppermint milkshake in the world. Okay, maybe not in the world, but trust me, it’s yummy.
5. Do you really want anything except a chicken biscuit when you have a hangover?

And yet, despite being the fast-food love of my life (imma call you, Taco Bell!), I am sad to say the Chick-fil-a apparently has not-so-friendly views about homosexuals.

…INSERT SAD/CONFUSED/HUNGRY FACE HERE.

And that brings us to the place where I need your advice. I have been trying really, really hard to not eat at Chick-fil-a since learning this news… but I’ll be honest. One one hand, sometimes I need to grab lunch to go–and when I do, I’d really prefer that lunch be healthy. On the other hand, I also don’t want my lunch to be supporting hate. I mean, if Chick-fil-a were donating $2 million to the Klu Klux Klan, it would take me and I hope not a few other people about .5 milliseconds to stop eating there completely. Why am I still tempted now?

What do you guys think? Do I bite the bullet and stick with the only healthy (and delicious) fast food gig in town–or put my money where my mouth is and swear off the beloved chargrilled chicken sandwich completely? So far, Chick-fil-a is winning in spite of myself. Help!

1. Dress for the occasion: Grains at the bottom (background), protein mounted on top (central focus), sauce drizzled over and garnish to finish (accents). It’s the pants, shirt and lipstick of food photos.
2. Get the plate’s good side: I almost always snap my pics from about a 45-degree angle–between a birds-eye-view and a side shot. I think it gives depth, and since you can’t taste or smell on a blog I want to offer as much sensory appeal as possible.
3. Take 3 shots: Because one is going to turn out blurry, one is going to be off-center and one, to use the famous last  words of the porridge-loving Goldielocks, is going to be “Juuuuust right!”
4. Add food coloring: I hope this isn’t too un-authentico, but I photoshop every single pic I post on this blog using the super-awesome Photoshop Express iPhone app. Make sure the colors are vibrant and sharpen the focus so the details stand out.

The goal? To try and make the picture look as delicious as the food (hopefully) tastes–although not even the best food photography is as good as a happy belly!

Step 1: Brown your meat. The recipe called for beef short ribs, but I went for pork shoulder. (Several vendors from the farmer’s market recommended it as a good alternative because it has a similar amount of fat as the beef short ribs.)

This pig's shrugging days are so over.

Step 2: Sautee some veggies. See all the yummy flavor bits the meat left behind? So important. Plus when my pots get all messy like this it makes me feel like a real cook in the way I imagine Tim “The Toolman” Taylor felt like a real mechanic whenever there were grease and wrench heads strewn all over his garage.

If this came with audio, I would be doing a self-satisfied Tim Taylor kitchen grunt in this shot.

Step 3: Add some saucy stuff, throw the meat back in and chillax. The best part about these kinds of recipes is that once everything’s in the pot, you get to just walk away and let it cook itself while taking complete credit for how good it’s going to turn out.

Its last words were "Be inspired."

Step 4: Take care of any finishing touches. This includes things like adding time-, flavor- or temperature-sensitive ingredients (i.e., herbs that would burn if added earlier ) and mercilessly tearing your meat into bite-sized shreds.

Puree sauce, shred pork, get way too excited about the delicious ragu smell filling your house.

Step 5: Serve. You can eat your ragu over polenta, pasta, gnocchi–or just ravenously devour cold it straight out of the Tupperware. (Not that I would know. … Okay, I totally know.) Either way, you want to make your leftovers last as long as humanly possible, because this is one dish that gets even better with age–I had my last bowl of this over a week after I originally made it, and it was twice as amazing as I remembered.

Mangia mangia!*

*Note: Photo from The Parsley Thief. Her pic was just way better than mine (even though it’s beef). UGH, fine. Here’s my pic:

No laughing at my runny sauce!

Kiwano Melon. Definitely NOT available at your local grocery store.

Stumbled across this slideshow, The 10 Most Beautiful Exotic Fruits In The World, on BuzzFeed and had to share because not only are the pics crazygorgeouscool, but the flavors sound AMAZING! Take our little friend here, the Kiwano melon, which the site says “tastes like a mix of bananas, limes, and cucumbers.” Um, yes please!

Life is so cool, you guys. I mean, how does stuff like this even exist, much less be delicious?? I remember the first time I tried a kiwi, I was in Spain and my señora gave me one after dinner. I had seen them before but never had one, and that first bite was one of the most delightful moments my tastebuds have ever experienced. I bet these fruits are just as fun.

I have to give full credit to Savory for inspiring this one; he ordered red curry at the Cheesecake Factory and, after grimacing in disgust at seeing coconut milk listed in the ingredients, I tried it anyway. Turns out coconut milk is much more pleasant than its evil twin, aka actual coconut–who knew??

coconut milk playing coy, upper right

The original recipe calls for halibut, but I used cod instead, and if you’ve ever heard me talk maybe once or 50 times about my favorite cod book you know what a big deal it was for me to finally try the fish that changed the world (and with good reason–it’s freaking tasty).

cod playing dead, left; shrimp, also playing dead, right.

What I love about this recipe even more than the fact that it is easy to make is that the yum factor never diminishes; I was equally excited each time I ate it, and may have gone through a brief period of mourning after devouring the last bowl.

red curry playing delicious, center

¡BONUS POP QUIZ!

Q: What is curry made from?

A: Three spices found in most curry powders are turmeric, coriander, and cumin.

Q: What makes red curry red?

A: The main ingredients in red curry are garlic, shallots, (dried) red chillies, galangal, shrimp paste, salt, kaffir lime peel, coriander root, coriander seeds, cumin seeds, peppercorns and lemongrass. My money’s on the dried red chillies and shrimp paste.

Q: Can I come over for dinner and have some of your red curry?

A: Heck yes you can!

Note: Thanks to James Dowd, Jame’s Dowd’s iPhone and Wikipedia for sleuth support.

When my grandmother was growing up in the 1920s, the average woman spent about 30 hours a week preparing food and cleaning up. By the 1950s, when she was raising her family, that number had fallen to about 20 hours a week. Now, according to the U.S. Department of Agriculture, women average just 5.5 hours—and those who are employed, like me, spend less than 4.4 hours a week.

Because what used to be a full-time job is now something we have to find time to squeeze in (which, if you think about it, is a pretty crazy predicament for something as essential as giving our bodies the fuel they need to live), we don’t know cooking. Which means we are afraid of it. There are wacky tools and impossible ingredients, and on top of it all, we now have a whole class of foodies who make it look like they can afford to spend a mortgage payment each month on truffles and the latest ridiculous gadget from Williams-Sonoma.

This is unnecessary. Now that I’ve cooked a few things, I can assure you it is totally doable. In fact, you should start right away. I’ve been thinking a lot about how cooking seems to boil down to a small list of basics, aka the 10 things you need to be a great cook. (Good news! You probably already have a bunch of them.) Here’s my list:

1. A chef’s knife. Seriously. It will cut just about everything you’re going to need to cut in the kitchen.

2. Pots and pans. Some small ones, medium ones and big ones.

3. Olive oil. Olive oil is the nectar of the gods and you can almost never go wrong by adding it to anything, ever.

4. Vinegar. Vinegar is one of my most favorite ingredients in life. You need red wine and balsamic to start. Later, you can add white wine and apple cider to the mix. I already can’t wait for you.

5. Salt. It makes things better. I use it as liberally as I want to get the flavor of my food right in the kitchen, but avoid it at the dining table.

6. Bowls. A set of mixing bowls, plus small ones to hold stuff when you prep (I also use small plates for this).

7. Dairy. Eggs, butter, milk. Shopping list staples, and with good reason, because inevitably you’re going to need them. Good to have on hand always.

8. Herbs and spices. You will build these over time, but a few of my go-to faves are garlic, basil, cumin and rosemary.

9. A willingness to experiment. Once you have this foundation, go find a recipe and try it! (Here’s how.)

10. A willingness to fail. Sometimes when you cook stuff it’s not going to turn out as delicious as you want–and then you are going to have to eat it every day until it’s gone because you spent all your grocery money on that one dish. And that’s okay, because most of the time it’s going to turn out pretty well, and other times you are going to cook things that are so good, they remind you why life is beautiful in the same way that family and friends and sunsets do.

What would you add to the list?

hello, tasty

A bed of fresh spinach lightly sauteed with olive oil, salt and pepper, topped with tuna cakes and, most importantly, homemade dijon vinaigrette! This was my first-ever attempt at making a salad dressing, and I pretty much just randomly mixed together the ingredients, which included white wine vinegar, dijon mustard, shallots, olive oil, salt and pepper–and of course, lemon. I think the lemon ended up being a bit much for the dressing by the time I’d put in all that other stuff, but no matter because it was still yummy.

Oh, and let’s not forget the shaved parmesan to top it all off!

Several years ago I bought a book at a used book store in Daytona Beach called Eating Through Literature and Art. Grouped like a cookbook, according to meal type, each section includes excerpts, notes and recipes from people like Franz Kafka, Allen Ginsberg and John Cage. I was flipping through it a couple weeks ago, and this breakfast entry by Steve Katz, a response to the editor’s request for a recipe, captured just exactly the feeling. It’s stuck with me ever since, and I can’t help but share it with you here:

Katz Curried Oatmeal

I never expected to express this as a recipe. I like to think of it as the culmination of a morning mode, following the processes of eyelid lifts and other sophisticated exercises that result in eventual verticality. One happy result of following these instructions with some sincerity is that you will find yourself vertical by a seascape so beautiful I wouldn’t trust a description of it to the world’s best writers. That’s the shores of Cape Breton, preferably at dawn–erect at dawn , supine by sunset. You go there to get the oatmeal, Ogilvie’s Scotch Style Oatmeal, generally for sale at the Co-op in Inverness or at McLellans. You can probably get it at other stores elsewhere in Nova Scotia and Canada, but I can’t see why you would want to. If you can’t go that far, and want to simulate the recipe, I suggest you avoid Quaker Oats and find some loose steel-cut oats in a health food or bulk grain outlet. Quaker Oats don’t give you the nutty texture you want for the awakening this dish ideally provides.

To cook 1 cup of these oats you will need 4 to 5 cups of freshly drawn spring water. This water is best from the hills of Foot Cape, but I am sure you can find an adequate substitute. Many people like to cook the oats in a double-broiler or on a low heat throughout the night. I have tried that and it made for some soft oats, but I prefer the texture you get cooking them directly over the flame, and stirring frequently. Bring the water to a rolling boil, add the oats, lower the heat to a simmer, and stir frequently. The oats foam up and threaten to escape the pot at first, but you will find that as you tend them, they will calm down and become quite tame to your attention.

These oats take twenty minutes to a half hour to reach their optimum texture, which for me is more or less “al dente.” When they are about half way you can add the spices. If you have a preferred curry powder you can stir in 1/2 to a full teaspoon of that, according to taste. I’ve liked some curry powders, but what I have consistently used and preferred is the following combination of 1/4 teaspoon each of cumin, ground coriander, tumeric, and cayenne. The amounts of each can vary according to taste. Add salt also to taste. At least five minutes before the oats are ready add 1/2 cup of diced dried fruit. I enjoy a combination of raisins, black or golden, preferably not treated with sugar, and unsulphured dried apricots. After you add the fruit check occasionally to see how much water it absorbs, and if the pot needs it, add some boiling water.

To finish the porridge saute some raw sunflower seeds in butter. I prefer the lightly salted butter of Tatamagouche, when I can get it. When the sunnies are light brown pour them into the nicely bubbling porridge. You will hear a heavenly hiss from the disturbance of steam that for the moment will drown out the sound of the waves breaking.

Four to six of your friends are sitting outside the tipi, or on the deck, or with their feet dangling off the bank, as they watch the early sunlight come over the hill to touch the crests of the waves. This should fill a nice bowl for each of them, that will warm their bellies for much of the day. Serve it to them with a bowl of yogurt, and some coffee brewed with cardamon. They are your friends, and there will never be another morning like this morning.

1 cup oats (Ogilvie’s Scotch Style, or steel cut)

4-5 cups spring water

1/2-1 tsp curry or 1/8 tsp each cumin, ground coriander, turmeric, cayenne

salt

1/2 cup diced dried fruit

1/2 cup sunflower seeds

yogurt

butter

I am fortunate to know, and have shared a drink or meal with, most, if not all, of the people who read this blog. You are my friends, family and colleagues–and these are among my most cherished memories.

Excerpt:

me: If I was driving a brain-car I’d make it go to Taco Cabana all the time and you’d be all “Where are we going? We don’t have time for this” and I’d be like “I’m not doing it! It’s the car. It must want enchiladas” and then I could get enchiladas all the time and you couldn’t yell at me about it because you couldn’t prove I was doing it on purpose.

Victor: When have I ever yelled at you about enchiladas?  WHY IS THIS EVEN AN ISSUE?

me: You’d totally yell at me if I suddenly veered off to get unexpected enchiladas. That’s why I’ve never even tried it. Because I know you. But just wait until we get our mind-control car. There are going to be unexpected enchiladas everywhere.