Wednesday, March 9, 2011

In Conclusion

            As my two weeks of gastronomic adventure come to a close, what I have I learned in the process? The most surprising aspect of this project, for me, was how difficult it was to find foods I had never tried before. I think it is a testament to the absurdity of the American surplus that I can walk into a supermarket full of tens of thousands of foods and find only a few that I have never tried before. I also like to think of myself as a pretty adventurous eater – if someone presents me with a new food, I make a point of tasting it.
            Since I’ve tried so many of the foods local to New England, I had to turn to foods that came from across the country or globe to find that new experience. Consequently, my carbon footprint associated with this project was significantly more substantial than I would have liked. The other result of this long distance taste-testing was that many of my foods were – I believe – mediocre specimens. The rule tends to be that fresh foods taste better, so some of the excitement of the novelty was tempered by the lesser quality of the food. I found this with basically all the exotic fruits I tried over the last two weeks.
            Interestingly, the foods that I had the lowest expectations for – tofurky, parsnip, almond milk – ended up being the most impressive. I was thoroughly convinced by the soy-based turkey substitute to the extent that I doubt I will by deli turkey again. I don’t have much need for almond milk in my daily life, but I’m glad I know there is a tasty, dairy-free alternative out there.
            Every one of the fruits and vegetables I tried were presented by their various online proponents as essentially perfect foods. They were all full of the valuable nutrients and fiber that I need, but while I’m living in New England, there is only one that I want to eat again. I am happy to say that this one is the most local: the parsnip. I do want to try the tropical fruits again, but not until I can obtain fresh ones.
            The two best tasting foods I tried – though they were prepared by restaurants, which isn’t really fair – were those two strange, rubbery sea creatures. The calamari to start the project and the octopus to end it really epitomize my goals for this project. I was able to put aside my long-held prejudice against ingesting tentacles and see what all the fuss was about. In so doing, I have now experienced a wide variety of new foods and learned not to trust my initial expectations. Sometimes the brightest fruit isn’t the sweetest, and that unassuming, dull old parsnip turns out to be delicious. Thanks for reading and bon appétit!

Tuesday, March 8, 2011

Tako Sushi and Orange Hurricane Maki

            Incidentally, but appropriately, I find myself ending this project in much the same way I began it: consuming a strange, aquatic, tentacled beast. This time, I entered a sushi restaurant and chose the two items on the menu with ingredients I had never tried before. One was the so-called Orange Hurricane maki – a roll filled with crawfish (the new food), cream cheese and lobster sauce, and topped with some raw salmon. The other was tako sushi which is just a slice of octopus laid on top of some rice. Now, I love sushi. I hesitate to discriminate against other kinds of food, but sushi is easily one of my favorite cuisines. Despite this near obsession, I have a few types that I tend to eat much more than others and therefore I had never tried either of these sea creatures.
            With my deep love of sushi and my recent good experience with squid boosting my confidence, I was very excited to try my octopus. When the dish arrived, the two types of sushi were really quite beautiful – the pale white octopus with purple fringes next to the bright orange of the salmon and crawfish roll.
Saving the most exciting for last, I tried one of the crawfish pieces first. I have yet to eat a piece of sushi I didn’t enjoy, and this was not to be the first. The crawfish tasted understandably like lobster (reinforced by the lobster sauce) but with a sweeter note to it, to use the “Taste Makers” vocabulary. The salmon helped complete the soft texture of the roll as a whole. It really was delicious. Apparently, the fact that I had never eaten crawfish is remarkable, because the annual US crawfish harvest is over 100,000,000 pounds1. I suppose my deprivation is merely a result of my location. Since 98% of the US crawfish harvest comes from Louisiana2, I guess most crawfish are eaten in the South.
After adequately savoring my first piece of crawfish sushi, I turned to the one I was simultaneously least and most excited to try. Even though I had thoroughly enjoyed the calamari that started this project, I couldn’t shake my prejudice against eating rubbery animals with suction cups. The sushi before me was so elegant, though, that it really was irresistible. So, with a little flourish, I popped the whole piece in my mouth. As expected, it was excessively chewy. Where the squid had been fried and therefore complemented by the crunch of the batter, this octopus presented itself in all its raw, rubbery glory. But with the chewiness came a subtle and pleasant flavor – not overly fishy. The emphasis of the taste was more on a subtle savoriness, and I would happily eat it again.

Monday, March 7, 2011

Almond Milk

            Milk alternatives have never really been a part of my life. I don’t drink all that much milk, and when I do, I don’t question that it comes from a cow. When I learned that now, you can find not only soy, but also almond milk, I was intrigued. The brand I found was made by Blue Diamond, whose almonds I have enjoyed extensively in my life. In my parents’ house, a can of “smokehouse” almonds is a household staple. So before I even knew they made almond milk, they had my brand loyalty.
            First I tried just drinking a glass of it. I rarely just drink cow’s milk, but I thought I should make the comparison. I found the almond milk to have a surprisingly understated flavor. The end of the sip conveyed a hint of the drink’s nutty source, but mostly the drink was refreshing, clean tasting, and decidedly milky. For avid milk-lovers – and Melanie DuPuis demonstrated they are many – might not be satisfied, but since I don’t particularly like drinking milk on its own, I actually think I prefer a glass of this “Almond Breeze.” Certainly for vegans or anyone who doesn’t want to support our dairy system, almond milk can rival its soy counterpart. I haven’t had very much soy milk in my life, but I don’t have very positive memories of those few times. The Blue Diamond website goes so far as to guarantee the taste of their milk. They say they will fully refund any customer who doesn’t think “the lusciously smooth taste of Almond Breeze is more delicious1” than soy milk. I know I won’t be asking for a refund.
            I also tried this milk in a bowl of Cap’n Crunch. Much like my experience with tofurky, when the mild nuttiness of the milk was hidden by the cereal flavor, I really couldn’t tell I wasn’t consuming cow’s milk. Therefore the merit of almond milk as a substitute very much depends on how you consume it. I thought it was delicious in both contexts, but I don’t see it replacing cow’s milk any time soon.

Sunday, March 6, 2011

Parsnip Chips

            Until one of my friends brought one home from MarketShares, parsnips were a complete mystery to me. I could have told you they were vegetables, but beyond that they could have been, purple, square, tiny, lump – I had no clue. So when she pulled out of her bag a big, almost cylindrical orange blob, I had to try it. I tried it raw and found that it tastes extremely carrot-like. The parsnip is actually a lot like a giant carrot. I decided to follow a recipe I found that looked delicious for parsnip chips.
            I sliced and boiled the parsnip, rubbed them in melted butter and flour and then fried them in vegetable oil. After the frying, I seasoned them with salt, pepper, and chili powder. The result was a plate full of great tasting parsnip chips. Of course, pretty much anything fried is good, but the parsnip’s earthy taste still came through and worked well with the other flavors. I heard people doing the local eating project complain about how parsnips are the only vegetables left at this time of year. While I wouldn’t want to live on parsnips, I got a good deal of satisfaction out of mine.
            Considering parsnip store well and can therefore be available all year, I am surprised I have not come across them before. Apparently they are good sources of fiber, folic acid, and various vitamins, and they are low in calories1, so why don’t people eat more of them. The taste could be a possible explanation, but people eat tons of carrots. Parsnips taste extremely similar and are much bigger. Something has drastically hurt parsnips’ reputation.
            I was able to dig up some historical explanations: parsnips’ affordability established their place as “crops for the poor2.” They also have the reputation in Ireland of being pig food – not good enough for humans2. Another factor that may have hurt its reputation is its unfortunate similarity in appearance to the poisonous water hemlock3.
         




          Whatever the reason, I think it’s time we reject these unfair prejudices and repair the parsnip’s reputation, so that everyone can enjoy parsnip chips or any of the other countless parsnip recipes out there. For my part, I will try to inform those who – like I had – have no idea what a parsnip even is.





Prickly Pear

            The prickly pear is a surprisingly desired fruit. Considering it grows on a cactus and is coated in tiny spines, the fact that it is coveted for both food and medicine is counterintuitive. While the science is not there to support it, the prickly pear fruit has a history in Mexican folk medicine as a treatment for diabetes and the juice was used to treat burns1. A writer for the Arizona Republic, who sees the fruits grow wild, reports on its many nutritious qualities: high vitamin C, calcium, potassium, and fiber, and low sodium, cholesterol, and saturated fat2. It seems like I can’t find a fruit or vegetable that someone isn’t raving about. DuPuis’s account of milk’s rise to perfect food-hood makes a bit more sense now that I notice lots of foods being promoted in a similar manner. Apparently you can find a proponent for any food more nutritious than a Twinkie. Don’t get me wrong – I love fruit, but this prickly pear did not please me.
            If its nutrients were present, its flavors were not. Upon cutting it open, I was excited to find an enticing pomegranate-red flesh that looked juicy and flavorful. When I cut off the skin and took a bite, however, I felt horribly deceived. The flavor was virtually nonexistent – at best a slight tanginess – and the texture was that of a dry watermelon. Add to these qualities an overabundance of hard, little seeds and the whole experience was decidedly underwhelming. I am willing to give prickly pears the benefit of the doubt and say that mine was just a bad representative. After all, the non-locality of this fruit once again means it is hardly fresh of the cactus. Plus, I really have no idea where it was in the ripening process. I’m thinking, based on the texture, that it was probably a little overripe.
            So where does this leave me? I suppose the jury is still out on the prickly pear as a food and as a medicine. Will I eat it again? I think probably not, unless I travel a couple thousand miles to the southwest.

Tofurkey Sandwich

            Before this project, I subscribed to the belief – which I think is common to many meat-eaters – that soy-based “meats” are inherently gross and/or utterly inadequate substitutes, even without having ever tasted any. When I saw some deli-style tofurky slices in the campus market, I realized I had never tasted it and that I ought to if I was to pass judgment on it. So, for lunch today, I decided to make a sandwich using this meat substitute.
            Now, my sandwiches are notoriously packed with ingredients. Since I didn’t want to miss the taste of the tofurky amidst all these others, I first ate a piece plain. I was presently surprised to find it a pretty satisfactory imitation. There is something mildly disconcerting about the experience of eating soy and tasting turkey, but the flavor is convincing enough that I was able to commit myself to the illusion. I then joined it with many of my favorite sandwich ingredients: mayonnaise, cheddar, avocado, tomato, and lettuce, with a few drops of peri peri hot sauce.
            The result was a quite delicious sandwich. I thoroughly enjoyed it and the soy aftertaste that had betrayed the nature of the “turkey” was masked, and I really could have been eating a turkey sandwich. Even the texture is pretty accurate, which is truly a mysterious miracle of culinary engineering. I have to say, tofurky far exceeded my expectations.
            Given that this “turkey” carries with it none of the injustices and energetic efficiency of industrial turkey production, I am now thinking my days of deli turkey may be behind me. I honestly don’t think I enjoyed my tofurky sandwich any less than I do a regular turkey sandwich. So, to those who are like I was, I suggest you taste this food before evaluating it. If someone is able to taste its non-turkeyness and is bothered by it, they need not eat it, but for those who cannot tell the difference, don’t be a turkey! Choose the one that is better for the environment.

Thursday, March 3, 2011

Quail Eggs/Kwek Kwek

            When I first saw the can of quail eggs, I was a little put off. It had never really occurred to me to eat the eggs of any bird besides a chicken. Upon a little further thought, however, this distinction is really extremely arbitrary, and given how many chicken eggs I eat, I should have no problem eating quail eggs. These eggs are actually very popular in the Philippines, served hard boiled and then deep fried in a colored, flour dough. I decided to make this simple dish, called Kwek Kwek, to enjoy my quail eggs, since they were already hard boiled in the can.
            The process was easy enough: I just coated the eggs in the dough and threw them in some hot vegetable oil1. The little dough balls were actually quite delicious. Fried things do tend to be, and I can’t say I could taste anything particularly quail-y, but they made for a very tasty snack. I can see why they are so popular among Filipino street vendors2.
            Eating these miniature eggs raised a question for me that I’m surprised I had never thought about before. Why do we eat exclusively chicken eggs? I suppose it has a lot to do with the chicken’s long history in domestication. Still, apparently there are other species whose eggs we are able to harvest. I wonder what effect a larger market for quail eggs would have on the chicken egg industry. Is it possible that a wider variety of laying birds could mean less intense production of any one kind? I’m thinking about the difference between intense monoculture of plants versus the organic multi-crop system. Perhaps egg producers actively keep quail eggs out of the American market, considering the ones I bought were Japanese.
            While the smallness of quail eggs makes the Kwek Kwek a great bite-sized snack, there is no reason I can’t use chicken eggs in the future, so I’m glad to have this simple, scrumptious recipe in my repertoire. I can’t take the name, though. Maybe I’ll call them Kluk Kluk.