I am going to just come out and
say it, I love food. There it is. I love to eat good food, I love to cook.
I am an obsessive viewer of Food Network and The Cooking Channel. I enjoy the science involved in cooking. If you were not paying attention in class,
cooking is science. I enjoy the art of
plating and presentation. I am intrigued
by the history of food and how dishes evolved or became associated with a
culture or a city. But, I am not really
sure of what to call myself these days. I could be a foodie, gastronome,
epicurean, gourmand, bon vivant, or even a connoisseur.
The term foodie is thrown about
but I don’t associate myself with the crowd that is currently coupled with the
word. I will make a point to seek out a restaurant or cuisine while
traveling. However, I have never traveled for the food as foodies will. I
have never pulled out my cell phone, snapped a picture of my untouched meal and
immediately launched it into cyberspace so anyone who knows me can see that I
am enjoying something they are not. I will not thumb my nose at someone
else’s dining experience. What I like may not be to your taste so I will
not tell you what you should, or worse, should not like. I am not above
food because eating something pedestrian may damage my reputation as a foodie.
No, I no longer think I am a foodie and have distanced myself from the
word.
Gastronome and the others, while
dedicated to the food and not the circus around it, are routinely associated
with fine dining. I am no stranger to Lobster Newburg, rack of lamb, or
Cornish game hen. But at the same time, I have a deep appreciation for
what would be considered common food. I love a big plate of pasta and
meatballs. Chiles rellenos has become a favorite of mine. Nothing can
beat a well-made beautiful lump crab cake. Foodies and gastronomes alike
will find these appetizing if the presentation is right, the name on the door
is one worth repeating, or the Chef preparing it has the right cache. But
these terms still elude me because I relish the opportunity to dive into a
plate of wings, I have tried slices from more pizza shops than I can
remember and Lord knows I have polished off more than one human’s share of
cheese steaks. No, these terms don’t fit me either.
Do I like sharing my food
experiences? Yes. I do talk with a few people at work who know
I cook and discuss meals occasionally.
They always ask about holiday meals.
Since I only cook for my wife and myself, we have always gone the
non-traditional route on holidays. For
instance, this Thanksgiving, I made fettucine with Cajun shrimp, Brussels
sprouts and bacon, and a spinach tort.
Gasp all you want, we enjoyed it.
We do not miss the turkey and the cleanup is so much easier. We also had no leftovers. I love a turkey sandwich the day after
Thanksgiving as much as the next person, but not for weeks. It is only two of us.
Yes, I have a Yelp account but I
use it almost exclusively for places that I enjoy. I have only given poor
reviews to a small handful of eateries or coffee shops. Those were places that appalled me and I felt
compelled to share more as a warning than mudslinging. None of my reviews contain a photo of the
perfectly molded rice pilaf, the grill marks on my fillet, or the foam on my
latte. In my review of the place I always remark about the staff and
service. I comment about the atmosphere
and mention what I had. I will give basic descriptions but I do not feel
compelled to detail the number of flecks of freshly ground black pepper appearing
on my carrots. I want to praise the experience, not dwell on what some
do. “My tomato slice was askew on top of
my burger, ruining my experience.” Yes,
this is a real review I happened upon while looking for a good burger.
Let me stop and break that down
for a moment. I am eating at a burger
joint. I am so caught up in my foodie
experience that I consider my experiences ruined because a slice of fruit was
off center when presented to me at the table. (Yes, a tomato is botanically a
fruit, not a vegetable.) In the words of
one of my favorite literary characters, and apropos for the season, “Bah humbug”. Enjoy the damn burger. If it was anything like mine, it was cooked
perfectly. Just another reason why I am
searching for another term for myself.
Anyway, back to the subject at
hand. What to call myself.
I do consider myself an
adventurous eater. Not in the way we
consider Andrew Zimmern adventurous though.
I love to try new cuisines. In my
lifetime, I have been fortunate not only to know a widely diverse cross section
of people, but to consider them friends enough to become exposed to their
culture. Through these great people, I
was able to sample the home version of their cuisine. I do like to try new restaurants, but keep in
mind, they cater to the customers and can stray from their roots. More on that later. Tasting the home version, you get the real
deal. I have tried and loved Korean,
Tanzanian, Indian, Brazilian, Greek, Filipino, Italian, Puerto Rican, French,
Mexican and in my own household Polish and Ukrainian. I cannot begin to tell
you how great each of these experiences were and how each opened my eyes wider
to the world. There is also nothing like
a meal cooked by someone who puts their heart into it because they want you to experience
their soul, not just eat dinner.
I mentioned more on the restaurant
experience. Well, I came to learn as I
compared these wonderful meals to their cultural counterpart restaurants that
the experience is not always the same. I
am not saying this is true for all ethnic based dining establishments, far from
it. But most people know that much of
what you find on a Chinese menu is either Americanized, or developed here from
the start. I will eat many of these
non-authentic dishes and enjoy every bite.
I just have to realize, when I do make it to a place that serves the
real item, that it will be a different and almost always a better
experience.
Another example of this is my
history with Mexican food. I grew up in
the mid-Atlantic and ate many a Mexican meal.
No, I am not talking about the fast food shops that call themselves Mexican
and barely pass for food. I mean the
real restaurants that serve “authentic dishes”.
They may be well intentioned and based on a real dish, but they are
tamed down or changed to suit the patrons.
My wife and I found this out
first hand when we moved to the southwest and were able to taste the un-edited
versions of dishes and many others that you just do not see in other
areas. The flavor profiles are so very different. Plus, heat has a whole new meaning for us
now. I am not just referring to slathering ghost chilies on some wings and
making it so hot that you are not even given the chance to taste the
flavor. I am talking about using any of
dozens of chilies to add beautiful depth of flavor. At the same time, they can turn up the heat
to a place that will make you sweat, but stop before you lose the burst of
flavor.
Yes, you can see I love
international flavors. But I also love
the regional foods found right here in the United States. I have done a bit of traveling over the years
and have tasted many local favorites. I
have learned that what is thought to be the local hero, sometimes is not the
one the locals go for. Other times, it
is most certainly the one. The question
becomes, where to get it. If you want to
know that, forget social media. Forget
what you see on television. Ask a
local. If you don’t already know what
the local favorite is, they are the ones to ask. They also know where to go to get the
best. From my experience, that will not
mean the tourist hot spots. It usually
means some local neighborhood. These
places are also not the ones with the plate photos plastered all over the
internet. They are the one who do not
waste time with a garnish. Don’t think
that means the presentation will not be spectacular. If my senses go into overdrive when the plate
hits the table, you’ve got a great presentation. I need the look and smell to get the juices
flowing so the taste sends it over the top. That is a meal!
So back to how to classify
myself. Foodie has moved away from
me. Gastronome, epicure and the like
seem to only work for the haute cuisine.
I am not a glutton or debauchee, they seem too far in the other
direction. I need something in the middle. Something that speaks to who I am. I enjoy an aged porterhouse and a ballpark
hot dog. Clam chowder is every bit as
delectable as she-crab soup. Haluski,
cioppino, lamb tagine, and sushi all make my mouth water. I love the experience but I certainly do not
need Cirque-de-Dinner. I am also
perfectly content to talking about my meal with only my wife, not all of
Instagram and Twitter. No term seems to fit
me today.
Maybe I need to invent my own
word.
Cuisineist. I looked and it doesn’t appear that anyone
has claimed this one yet. It speaks to
food. The breadth of cultural
possibilities. Neither chichi nor too guttural. I like it.
We’ll see if I can make it stick.
While I work on my new cultural
revolution, I will keep cooking for my lovely wife. She is a cuisineist like me. She usually loves what I create. I will continue tasting and enjoying new and
different dishes from anywhere and everywhere.
I will remain faithful to my television favorites: Alton, Sunny, Aaron,
Cat, Ann, Alex, Guy, GZ, Marc, Emeril, Jet, Ree, Scott, Chris, Curtis, Susan, Mary
Sue, Masaharu, Simon, Ted, Marcus, Mario, Michael, Ingrid, Carla, Andrew, and my
first TV cooking favorite Graham along with several more that have slipped my
mind. I will also think fondly of my other
two early television influences, Julia and Paul. I can’t leave out my first culinary influence,
my Mom. She stood and watched me stand
on a stool to make my first ever meal, scrambled eggs. She coached me but allowed me to do it
myself. From there I was off and
running.
Hmm, Cuisineist, I think I like
it.
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