The Flappable Knife

Friday, February 27, 2009

I call it this because whenever I try to use it only takes about thirty seconds for me to get so pissed off that I throw the damn thing into the sink and hunt down anything else with a sharp edge to it.

But- ah, allow me to start over...

When my roommate moved in she brought with her the saddest little set of knives in a humble butcher block. These knives are what I would call sad. They can cut, indeed, but the blade is flimsy. I can easily bend it into a curve. The image might be hard to tell, the curvature makes it look like a boning knife, but indeed, that is the large carving knife.

So slim, cheap, and made with such poor steel its blood greased, slippery possibilities are terrifying. I can only imagine trying to chop up a butternut with this thing. Even dicing an onion is an issue as the blade whips back and forth, causing only the most rational fear in my fingers and raising the hackles on my neck. The metal is, I believe, just glued to the hilt or wrapped in the plastic that makes the handle. There is no tang, no weight, no anything to remotely qualify this as safe.

Quality it is not, but I guess you get what you pay for...Caveat emptor, people.

Financial Bitch Slaps and My Eating Habits

Tuesday, February 24, 2009

Sadly taxes and the late refund of state taxes, unexpected car repair, having to fund buying a new computer, and stupid Wachovia taking forever to cash a financial aid payment I made have left me a little high and dry financially. It's a bit upsetting to say the least. It's one of those times when every possible economic bitch slap strikes you all at once stinging your cheeks and leaving them glowing red.

March is going to be what I call Budget Eating Month. I call it this because budget sounds much more Family Fun magazine than using the word poverty. Rather than be upset about it (okay, I'm a little upset) I am going to try and make something of it. I'm going to see how well I can eat through fervent cooking and purchasing ingredients on a strict budget. Normally I live this way anyways, but I'm not adverse to grabbing lunch out once or twice a week or opening a bottle of wine. The occassional dinner out with a friend will slide more over to cooking with a friend. It's time to really bleed the pennies a bit.

Luckily, the pantry is well stocked to begin with. It makes starting this just a tad bit easier. Plenty of grains, pasta, canned goods. I lived on far less than I do now back in college. However, back then I wasn't as knowledgeable a cook. So now I figure is a time of testing, to see what I can really do when constrained.

Soups. Pastas. Potatoes. Onions. Ramen. Simple dishes. There will be a bit more foraging. I know where stray fruit trees, arugula patches, and rogue rhubarb are in the area and I plan to hit those up. A return to radishes, a staple in the dorms but something I haven't eaten in some time will come back. It's times like these I enjoy the fact I have taught myself Ethiopian, Thai, Arab and Chinese food, its simple flavors, ingredient lists, and preparations are perfect for cuisines that, for the many people in these countries, is based on economic hardship.

I've already made enough lentil soup to give me lunch for four days this week. More war cake to snack on if need be. Provisions set aside for baked potatoes, curries, soups, and so on. Indeed, I may delve back into ramen. Back in college we would toss out the flavor packet (most of the time) and then add chicken, radishes, radish greens, green onions and mushrooms. Or serve it with cilantro, lime, and bean sprouts with coconut milk as broth. Grilled cheese sammiches! Eggs every which way. Quinoa with butter and tossed fresh veggies with chili oil. Simple delicious dishes that cost little to make and sustain the body.

Oh, it can be done. Furthermore, as I have been researching wartime food, it give me a chance to really utilize what I learn. I hope to keep you all updated, so stay tuned!

War Cake - A Recipe and a Small Disquisition on What We Decide "Cake" to Signify

Saturday, February 21, 2009


Wars usually bring about times of scarcity. We read in textbooks about soup lines, people bartering for eggs, victory gardens, and developing new tricks and recipes to make what you have work out. Sure, you can sling together an amazing recipe on Iron Chef or at home when you have the world's kitchen at your fingertips, but can you bake a cake when you have no butter, refined sugar, or eggs?

Now war cake is not a cake in the traditional manner. Rather it was what cake was when you were in times of need. One need not go without on a special occasion, but one had to make due. Tastes and concepts of what food was had to change during WW2. The name cake was kept because the end product was still something sweet, something special. Indeed the word has become a signifier to us - its a word we associate with joy, indulgence, celebration, something beyond the material mound of sugar and whipped egg whites and colored frosting. War cake requires you to alter your understanding of cake.

War cake is more like a very large, round cookie. A huge, super-thick cookie. It's harder than biscotti on the outside, but sweet, dense, and chewy on the inside. It has a taste that's very similar to gingerbread but with out the heated bite of molasses. Studded with sugar plumped raisins it's actually quite a treat. Those who tried it loved it and the recipe is extremely simple. Given the jawbreaker-like crust can be a workout for those good chewing teeth, but a dunk in some black coffee or tea easily loosens it up. However, it actually gets softer as time goes by as the raisins release their moisture into the bread. My roommate and I have taken to cutting off pieces on the go in the mornings for breakfast and it's now a regular staple here. A not too sweet nibble that's great on the go, and easy to make when I'm tired.

The recipe is strikingly easy, and you have to put some faith in it as the method is very unique and developed based out of poverty. The original recipe I dug up had few instructions, after some trial and error I've put together something that I believe is true to what real 1940's war cake was.

War Cake
I hope that you'll all give it a quick try and attempt to stay true to this recipe your first go. The first bite is eye opening and will certainly inspire reflection and thought about the history of cooking. If you don't have shortening ready on-hand, then butter can be used in its place. (Butter was near impossible to get in 1944.) This cake is very moist from the melted sugar and raisins and will keep for a week.

1 cup of brown sugar
1 cup of hot water
1 tablespoon of shortening
1/2 teaspoon of salt
1/2 teaspoon of cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon ground cloves
11/2 cups of flour
1/2 teaspoon of baking soda
1/2 cup of raisins

Bring brown sugar, water, shortening, salt, raisins, and spices to a boil for five minutes. Allow to cool.

Dissolve the baking soda in a teaspoon of water. When the sugar mixture is cold, mix in flour and baking soda.

Mix together, using a spoon and then your hands as it gets thicker. Form into two discs about 5 inches in diameter. You may need to use your hands a bit but don't add a lot of extra flour.

Bake on a cookie sheet lined with parchment paper. Bake for 45 minutes at 325F.

Placentophagy

Thursday, February 19, 2009

A little warning: This is a graphic post.

I'm not quite sure how I came about researching this topic. I just kind stumbled onto it by accident like the Tasseography or Makrud lime post. Somehow when reading about colonialism and Edward Said's theories I wandered into thinking about cannibalism, which prompted a Google search, which piqued my curiosity about what people taste like (pork seems to be the popular answer among serial killers and computers), which led to finding far too many YouTube videos and thus led me to do a long research for the next few days in my spare time when not researching for my school project.

I decided that, heck, this is a food blog. Might as well look at all aspects of food, right? Good enough of a forum as any to talk about these things.

I've taken a few steps too far ahead of you though, so allow me to start again. Placentophagy is the act of mammals eating the placenta after giving birth.

I think most people reading this blog are intelligent people, but still a quick refresher for sake of the argument is in order. The placenta is an ephemeral, highly vascularized organ that attaches developing fetal tissue to the uterine wall. It transfers nutrients to the developing fetus and infant and removes waste to the maternal kidneys. Furthermore it protects itself from the mother's own immune system by producing certain chemicals and hormones that trick the mother's body into a copasetic state. When the mother gives birth the placenta is delivered as well.

In the animal kingdom placentophagy somewhat practical and common, even among herbivores. The animals usually need to eat it for nutrition in order to produce milk for their young. Furthermore, the placenta contains naturally occurring sedatives that reduce the pain that occurs after childbirth. Since a rat or moose can't get a prescription for some codeine, it makes sense they would resort to eating the placenta.

A small number of humans do practice placentophagy. The idea is that it helps prevent postpartum depression. However, its use in Chinese medicines has long been practiced and is still used today.

Technically, this act does file under anthropophagy or cannibalism. It is the consumption of human flesh. Now for the most part cannibalism is practiced in small, scattered groups around the world and the occasional serial killer. These groups of people (minus the killer who is just crazy) practice it in war and in funeral rites as a form of respect.

Yet here seems to be a wave of people trying it out now. The thing is, they aren't doing it from a medical or curative standpoint. Rather, the mother is perfectly jubilant and fine. No, she, and possibly her husband/partner/friends/family wish to partake in her homegrown meal for a specifically radical gourmet purpose. I mean, truffles are hard to come by, but a placenta? Well, there's quite a bit of work involved to get one of those to eat.

Apparently a small movement of people in developed cities and suburbs in Europe and America giving it a try. Don't believe me? YouTube has plenty of videos and you can find a few blog posts of it.

So how do you prepare it? Well, to get one you have to know someone who is pregnant. The hospital is upposed to give you the option of taking the placenta home. I mean, it is YOURS after all. Some cultures bury them, other people (read: hippes) make prints with the placenta and frame them, which actually seems more creepy to me. However, a variety of recipes appear online, from lasagna to cocktails.

Slow food? Organic? Technically this is Slow Food extreme. Nine months to be exact. It's definitely local. You know what went into growing it. If the grower/farmer/source/mom ate a healthy diet of veggies and produce, then it should be healthy to eat. If she only ate McDonalds will it be greasy? If she had a steady diet of pistachios, apples and cream will the placenta have those subtle flavors in the background like a piece of pork can when fed a delicious diet during its life? How many placentas have a slight undertaste of whatever craving the mother has had ("Do I taste pickles and strawberry ice cream in this?"). No animals were harmed or killed so, technically, vegans and vegetarians can eat it.

Personally, I think it's odd... Thing is, very few cultures practice placentophagy. Those that do have utilized it as a part of their traditions for centuries; it's an ingrained part of their way of life. If you aren't a part of that culture, raised in their ideology wherein the practice is a vital signifier for your spiritual, societal, and familial self then you are simply emulating a practice which, across cultures, is unneccessary. If you decide to cook and eat a placenta for the purpose of blatant voyeurism or thrill-seeking the way one drinks snake blood in Thailand then I think you're skirting the realm of taboo.

I'll be honest. The idea grosses me out. Still, who am I to say? If mom and pop really wanna try it, then go crazy. Disease wise there is zero risk in the mother eating it. If the mother has HIV or another blood disease however, she shouldn't serve it to guests.

Some may argue that my opinion doesn't stand to reason. Going out and trying new things! Anthony Bourdain does it! I saw him eat a yak testicle on TV! Well that was a yak testicle. Not a human organ that was attached to your wife/partner and child (I use these terms because you can't buy them at Whole Foods or Kaiser Medical so I assume you have to know who grew it pretty intimately). In essence you are eating a piece of the mother and child. I'm sure there is some new age stuff out there that makes this all holy and whatnot, but I dunno.

Isn't it like mother's milk? Yes, I suppose. In a way. But you have to drink that as all mammals do. And then we stop. Not all animals eat the placenta, and if they do it's because the mother needs the strength and proteins to make milk. People can make a salad with some eggs and pasta.

In my mind, part of me can see reasons why it could make sense to eat it if you wanted. However, I can find no reason why you must, have to, or should. I can think of more reasons you shouldn't. Mainly that yes, you are breaking with societal norms and while I'm all about fighting the machine, sometimes I'm just fine letting it run its rules.

My conclusion is this then: there is no reason, aside from breaking popular social taboo, not to eat it. However, there is no medical proof due to a lack of study on the subject that it can do anything amazing for you either. Given, technically, it is an extremely nutritious piece of tissue and muscle, though it is chalked full of hormones (I guess we'll always complain about hormones in our food). Plus, you can get this nutrition anywhere else just as easy, if not easier. Therefore there is no reason to eat it.

So it comes down to personal opinion.

Ah, but would I? I suppose you are wondering my own position. My answer? Depends. If I were to turn this post into a real research article for publication for my MA or future PhD, then yes. If for just kicks and thrill-seeking? No.

Still, for those of you asking yourselves this question, why is your answer your answer? If you reply, "Because eating a human organ is wrong" then tell me why it is. Then ask yourself what formed the rules and ideas that formed my opinion that this is wrong? You could go down this trail of questioning for hours, but I just want to encourage you all to put some real thought into it. Of course, a simple "It looks way too gross," is perfectly acceptable too. We'll call it a quick practice in sociology and ideas.

Comments on this post are encouraged, so please state or work out your thoughts, or debate there. =)

Yay for Irony. Another Coffee Shop Story.

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

From the Archives as I am working on school crap and a big mega post that requires some time and research. Be patient.

So as Rob has so eloquently put it, I am a magnet for stupid people. I may find myself to be surrounded by only normal people, yet in a trice The Stupids will always hunt me down somehow. But this time... this time it was just fantastic.

So in the same coffee shop, I'm waiting in line behind Coffee Nut berating New Coffee Girl (Starbucks is a rotating door of employees it seems).

"Can you be sure to actually steam the milk this time? Last time is was ice cold!" he screamed, taking a moment away from his current cell phone conversation. He was irate with a red face, not from the cold outside, but likely from stress which will no doubt end his overly important life prematurely.

"Sorry, I only heat it to what I'm supposed to legally heat it too," which is between 150-160 F if you were curious. Yep, you never forget working in a cafe. I also know how to make a heart and a Christmas tree with the milk. Great resume' builder that.

"Yeah well, heat it more. Last time it was fucking cold." Swearing is always a great way to garner good will from those preparing your food; remember, you don't see the way them cookies are baking before you eat 'em.

"Yes, sir," the poor New Coffee Girl conceeded, as it is in her job description to do so. "The Customer Is Always Right" is at times the biggest crock of shit ever. Yet, over a cup of coffee for someone you'll possibly never see again, riding these customers out is just the lightest path to tread.

He waved away her subservience and went back to his cell conversation. Apparently his manners also extended to cutting her off, and getting back to his cell as he had probably cut them off to yell at poor New Coffee Girl.

Now having worked at a coffee shop this little legal temperature is a bunch of hooey. Really, that temp does kill EVERYTHING that might be in your milk. But assuming the milk is fresh, it shouldn't be a problem anyways. And even if the milk was bad, steaming it to 150-160 F is just going to making steaming hot bad milk. At that tongue searing temperature, you are actually destroying the flavor.

I watched as she steamed the milk, a process which should normally take about 15 seconds for a large latte. She had the steaming wand buried at the bottom for a good minute it seemed. This amount of time should bring the milk to a balmy 190 F.

Excellent. Now class, who wants to guess what happens next?

"Here you are sir. As hot as I could get it."

"As hot as you can humanly make it on that machine, right?"

"Yes, the temperature is very hot. You may actually want to wait a min-"

Coffee Nut then immediately took a drink, only to yelp as his tongue turned to a scalding strip of boiled flesh. And as he pulled it away, the coffee spilled out of the cup and onto his hand. Another inaudible yelp, I think he said "ow" but who knows with his mouth now useless, and the drink, cup-and-all, splattered on the floor.

"Are you okay!?" asked the coffee girl.

"AUGH! WHAT THE HELL!? WHY DID YOU MAKE IT THAT HOT!?"

Yay for irony.

Vanilla Garlic All rights reserved © Blog Milk Powered by Blogger