Travel food

Now that Continental Airlines has stopped serving "complimentary" meals on domestic flights shorter than six hours, participants in the nickel and dime parade is complete. Passengers seeking food on planes either have to pay extra for a meal, or upgrade to First Class. Remember when they scoffed at how low budget airlines would charge for every single amenity?

But this is one cut which may not be so bad. After all, it's not like as if they served particularly good food. Most cases, it's some kind of industrially processed stuff (although I've seen folks wolf down the pre-packaged Cheerios on the some flights while discarding the banana alongside); I fear that the "food for purchase" will devolve further into "Snack Paks" and other synthetic ilk.

This does present an interesting problem of bringing home prepared foods that:

1. Pack easily
2. Keep without refrigeration
3. Require minimal utensils
4. Pass TSA regulations with regards to gels and liquids

Funny thing is, humans have had to deal with similar problems for many years living in a nomadic lifestyle, and perhaps modern day nomads can learn from their predecessors. Dried fruit and nuts are certainly an excellent choice to bring, although they do tend to become expensive. I think perhaps more apropos for when one is actually hiking or traveling with physical exertion. Meat cooked and then stuffed into dough before baking or steaming into bao or pies or manapuas are an excellent travel resource. Some fresh fruit travel well, cherry tomatoes, grapes, clementines, as well as home made fruit "leather".

Then again, perhaps I'll bring a tiffin next time, and just start dining on a warm rogan josh in an enclosed space.

The cost of processing?

I found this in the local supermarket last night. A jar of egg whites selling for $7 (approximately equal to 12 eggs by weight). Right next to cartons of eggs selling for $1.60 per dozen. The math boggles my mind - why would anyone with a shred of practicality purchase this? It is near highway robbery. Separating eggs is very easy, and even if one were just to discard the yolks, it's still more economical.

In related news, Nature publishes the resequencing of the chicken genome, this time attempting to trace the key genetic differences that underlie the diversification of the domestic breeds into broilers and layers. The data is released, but the analysis is still ongoing. Nonetheless, it should contribute significantly to how breeds in the future can be even better engineered for human purposes.

Cooking evolves

Discussions among the louder local food aficionados (my genteel term for "foodies") are heavily biased around dining out. Couple with a predilection to hyperbole, and debates can rage over such small things as subtle differences in how steaks are cooked, or how salads are dressed, or eggs are prepared. Never mind the fact, of course, that most dishes discussed can be easily prepared at home. But many of the discussions don't address the discontent by simply cooking, instead choosing to bemoan the poor availability or access to a particular foodstuff already prepared in its final form.

It's as if there's a reversion to the hunter-gatherer mindset.

I just finished watching a BBC documentary called "Did Cooking Make Us Human?", a fascinating look a the anthropology, biochemistry, and paleontology about the origin of cooking, and its coincidence with the change of diet, and the rise of modern human characteristics. One notable change is the evolution of consuming meat - earlier ape-like ancestors likely lived on purely vegetarian diets, and spent quite of a bit of their time chewing just to get the enough calories. An interesting experiment should be illustrative for the proponents of a raw foods diet - when volunteers are asked to eat raw fruit and vegetables equivalent to the required calorie intake, they spent so much time chewing, they ended up never finishing the provided food. Which was good for the period of the experiment, as they ended up losing weight. The narrator, however, extrapolated that in the wild, they would have simply starved to death - the conclusion being that modern human physiology was ill equipped for such a diet of raw vegetation. Coincidentally, volunteers also experienced some rather drastic gastrointestinal problems, and complained of a lack of satiety.

One thing to note about this documentary is how beautifully lush the shots were of people eating the food. The slow motion tearing of a steak, or the barehanded consumption of a pineapple looked opulent rather than disturbing. On the other hand, one of the weaker aspects of the film Julie and Julia was the cinematography of people eating. While the food itself was well lit and photographed, footage of people sloppily eating quickly dispelled any desire to eat.

Lemony sweetness

Professional beach volleyball player (and former Houston resident) Alicia Polzin sent me a box of Meyer lemons off her tree in California. These lemons were beautiful, floral, juicy, and seedless. Some of them I used to make the lemon cream loaf cake pictured above, but I wanted to send her some of the lemons back to enjoy. So, I made candied lemons.

I believe her exact words were: "Holy chewy yummy nummy!" Then she threatened me with bodily harm if I don't send her the recipe. Well, this posting is all about avoiding getting hurt :).

sliced up lemons

First, we start by slicing the lemons into thin slices, rind and all. Not that there isn't a seed in sight. Then I prepared a simple syrup by dissolving two parts of sugar to one part of water, and heating it until it is warm. Slide the slices into the syrup one at a time to ensure that each piece is completely surrounded by syrup. It's easy to end up with two pieces sticking together, and then not getting candied. Keep simmering for about 15-20 minutes. Then turn off the heat, and let it cool in the syrup. Be patient. I left mine in the syrup all day. 

The tricky part is drying the slices. I didn't have the room for a proper dehydrator, so I just laid the slices out on a Silpat sheet, and stuck it in the oven at 150F overnight. 

The next morning, you have candied lemons. If they're sticky, you can roll them in sugar, but, really, they should come out like lacy stained glass windows.

Oh, don't throw away the resulting syrup. So much pectin will be leached out that you have this great lemonade base. I like dissolving some in soda water for a quick refreshing beverage.

The tragedy of flying foods

Traveling with wonderful food finds has been seriously curtailed with advent of the ban on carryon liquids, gels, pastes and their ilk. This article at the Washington Post detail a heartbreaking series of anecdotes of jams, jellies, and other preserved foods lost and discarded simply because of this odd security policy. Often, the situation is nonsensical - the detailed story about how soft cheeses have to be discarded while the hard cheeses remained is one that flies completely at the face of common sense. Moreover, if such liquids are suspected of being possible explosive ingredients, confiscated substances seem to be discarded with little regard for their potential explosive nature.

I'd like recruit volunteers to conduct an experiment, bringing along half a dozen eggs through airport security - two of them raw, two of them soft boiled, and two of them hard boiled - thus, bridging the range from liquid, to gel to solid. And see how they fare. It's a fairly cheap thing to do, and you end up with a snack to eat while waiting for your flight.

Of course, the flaw here is that the volume of the egg may be below the detectible limit. Perhaps if I had goose eggs?

Not quite on the mark

We recently did a return trip to Umai, and for me, it was ostensibly to try their rendition of the classic Japanese shoyu ramen. On their menu, it's simply listed as Umai ramen without further explanation, although our server verbally expounded that there are two versions - one with pork, and the other just soy sauce broth. I asked for the pork version, thinking that it's the tonkotsu ramen (broth prepared from pork bones); I was then quietly informed that there'll be an additional $1 charge for the pork version.

The Umai Ramen (pork version)

By way of backdrop, I've had the fantastic Santuoka ramen out in LA, and can't help comparing the two. Also, bear in mind that this is a $10 bowl of noodle soup; I expected a lot. Good points: the noodles themselves had a good chew and weren't overcooked. But that's about it - the rest of the bowl was okay to borderline mediocre. The pork was a bit tough, the vegetables were overcooked, and the broth - ah, that's the downfall - it tasted "fishy". I'm not sure if it was some synthesis of the shoyu and the bamboo shoots in there, but I could swear I tasted mussels in there...and not fresh ones at that.

Shame, I was so looking forward to this. Do try the agedashi tofu here - the kitchen has a way with fried items. There's at least one other noodle dish that piques my interest at the Umai menu, but that'll have to wait for another day.

I went a-visiting

The folks over at Revival Meats asked me to write a blog post about the effects of nitrites/nitrates on human health, particularly in light of their interest in making salumi.

So, I obliged.

The difference one letter makes

This article in The Serious Eats blog reports that Michele Obama is out to eliminate food desserts. When in fact, she's out to combat food deserts, regions in urban America with little access to fresh food (at least in that self-declared dependent lifestyle). No matter what, I love the fact that there's a White House blog, and it uses current generation technology to communicate with the people of America. 

And that the First Lady cares about healthy eating. 

Googlefu PastaFail

You all know that orzo is, right? Basically, it's pasta that shaped like rice. So that they look like rice grains. You can get dried orzo in all sorts of markets. But I am really curious - how does one make orzo? Specially on an industrial scale. Most pasta shapes can be traced to some kind of extruder, be they macaroni or fettucini, ziti or even the funky farfalle (bowtie). But orzo mystifies me a bit. The shape, although small, isn't obviously the product of an extruder, unless the die hole is capable of enlarging and shrinking as the pasta dough goes through it.

As with any modern age, I plumb the internet search engines looking for the process behind the manufacture of orzo - and come up with a lot of recipes of how to cook pre-manufactured orzo, but none on how to make it. Is it even possible to make orzo at home?

So, dear readers, do you know how orzo originated? How is it made originally (no, not from a box in a supermarket)? And how is it manufactured in factories?

Regional cuisines

Once, on a trip, I was introduced to what was proudly considered the most "authentic" Chinese restaurant in town. No slight on the quality of the food, but the menu featured sushi, pad thai, and wonton soup. Many people can't tell the difference between the different ethnic cuisines, unless they're in pretty broad strokes - of course, in America, Chinese food is often not even Chinese. But just as there are American regional cuisines, from gumbo to bagels to cedar planked fish to pemmican, the great major ethnic cuisines from from large countries with regional specializations, but are often lumped together, or not spoken of at all.

At least in the case of Chinese cuisine, mainstream America has started grasping the nuanced differences betwen Sichuan or Cantonese cooking; here in Houston, we are even lucky enough to have a restaurant that specializes in Uyghur cooking - halal dining. But the other night, I spoke to someone who said, "I don't like Indian food."

Which is a pretty broad statement. India is a huge subcontinent, with many major regional cuisines. Indian cooking is as varied as the heavily vegetarian Gujarati cooking (I don't often see dhokla served in Houston, despite our huge IndoPak population), to the more sophisticated Bengali set meals. And then there's Goa. Goan cooking was heavily influenced by the Portuegese, and thus, surprisingly includes pork as an ingredient. You'd think this should settle well among Texan palates.

Despite our proximity to Mexico, we don't really celebrate the diversity of Mexican cooking styles - we are so heavily ensconced in Tex-Mex that the more localized flavors of Oaxaca, Sinaloa, or Baja have a hard time finding a foothold in the perception of Mexican cooking. Same can be said for Filipino or Thai or Malaysian cooking, where the regional specialties of Cebu, Pampanga, Issan, Chiangmai, or Langkawi seldom surface.

Clever, or not really?

From the blog, Apartment Therapy, comes this tip of using a walnut to buff out dings in wooden furniture. But the comments complete the story: first of all, since it's really the oil that's doing the job, any number of nuts can be used to the same effect (locals here in Texas may want to use pecans as a point of domestic pride), but I think the bigger point to be made is that people with nut allergies may be in danger of such furniture. So, perhaps simple mineral oil would suffice.

Words for delicious

Formally, the word for delicious in Japanese is "oishii", and we in Houston have a restaurant so named, known for inexpensive but acceptable sushi. Oddly enough, when eating something particularly tasty, most Japanese exclaim "umai!".

As it turns out, we have a restaurant in town called Umai. We paid it a visit on a recent cold and rainy night, and it's a good choice for that weather. Umai is pretty distinctive in the Houston culinary landscape: it's a Japanese restaurant that is not a sushi joint. Oh, sushi is still listed on the menu, but the selection is very limited, in a tiny section of the large menu, and just primarily to makizushi. 

The interior of the place is brand spanking new, and modern in sentiment. I liked this accent wall framed by a collection of smooth black river stones. 

I applaud that the menu focuses on aspects of Japanese cuisine that is largely ignored, or at least sadly glossed over in other restaurants in the area. Most of the main part of the menu offers grilled fish or meats that can be ordered a la carte, or in "bento-style" sets with salad, soup, and three variable appetizers. We tried the miso glazed sea bass which was succulent. Among the sides, we were most impressed with the pickles; Japanese pickles, particularly those that rely on rice bran (nukazuke) are again rarely seen in Japanese restaurants, but are a commonplace item on the Japanese table. 

The menu also lists a sizeable ramen and udon section, including the mysterious "Umai ramen" with little explanation. When I quizzed our pleasant server, we were informed that it is in fact, two different kinds, one soy sauce based, and another pork bone based -- sounds like the more traditional ramens that rameniacs rave about online. I've resolved to go try them eventually - but decided to taste the more untraditional spicy beef ramen, to compare it to the other interpretations of spicy beef noodle soups found around town. 

The broth was indeed spicy, with a burn that warms the back of the throat. I was a little concerned that it wasn't boiling hot - as most ramen served is - but as it turns out, it was to avoid overcooking the slices of beef tenderloin in the broth, which were tender, and toothsome. I do have a nitpick about the noodles themselves, which seemed a little gummy and tended to stick together, as though they were pre-cooked, and left to sit a while.

All in all, our initial visit to Umai was quite good, and, given the very approachable prices, we'll be back. We may have one of the few true ramen shops in town. 

Itadakimasu!

Food and propaganda

We have a lot of truisms thrown at us daily when it comes to food. Some are quite nebulous - "ginger builds your immune system" - and others are just accepted as valid. For example, that the premium paid for produce bought at a Whole Foods is justified for quality, as opposed to say, a Walmart. But is it?

Colby Krummer writes at the Atlantic, where produce from both Walmart and Whole Foods were used to prepare restaurant quality meals, and subjected to blind tasting among different judges. Some of whom are avid food activists of a sort. The results were by no means unanimous, but surprising.

-----spoiler below -------







Diners frequently chose produce from Walmart as better tasting than the items from Whole Foods (albeit to some surprise and chagrin). Granted, it was just one test, but it was telling.

Bear in mind, though, that the Walmart produce can often be as expensive as the Whole Foods stuff.

Conventionally breaking

Judging from the responses of Robb Walsh's blog posting about eating radishes with butter for breakfast, people have a hard time entertaining what is appropriate for breakfast. More than any other meal, breakfast seems to be shrouded in ritual; perhaps because, unlike other meals, this one is predicated on a biological happenstance: it's the first meal eaten after sleeping. I was once asked if Asian peoples ate rice at all meals - to which I replied in the affirmative.

"Even for breakfast?!!???"

was the response.

Of course, not that that is particularly odd even in American practice - what do you think Rice Krispies are made from? - but somehow, a lot of "mainstream" folk have very prescribed ideas of what breakfast food can and should be. Even interviews of Mark Bittman and his self imposed "vegan before 6" diet revealed that breakfast was the meal he struggled with the most, as the usual litany of milk, eggs, bread, cured meats and cereal seems to dominate the psyche. Truth be told, of course, one can eat anything for breakfast. Cold pizza is a standby, but pho is wonderfully bracing as a wakeup, as is the tang and shock of tenzaru soba dipped in wasabi broth. You can get your eggs and milk in the form of ice cream; throw in bacon, and it's a meal.

But yes, fried rice is devised as a way of using up leftover rice; and is frequently the object of breakfasts. That and congee.

And speaking of rice, celebrate the Lunar New Year with the glutinous rice cakes:

Japanese -> mochi
Chinese -> nien gao
Vietnamese -> banh chung
Korean -> tteok
Filipino -> tikoy

Peace and prosperity be unto you.