Mangosteen in Syrup

          In all the literature I found on mangosteens, everyone agrees they are a delicious, melt-in-your-mouth fruit. Unfortunately, I could not get the fresh fruit and had to settle for canned mangosteen in syrup. Apparently, before 2007, mangosteens in the US could only be found in cans. For fear of introducing the Asian fruit fly in America, the US banned the import of mangosteens¹, which are mostly grown in Thailand (the origin of mine as well). Now, mangosteens are allowed into the country on the condition that they have been irradiated to kill any flies. Just from an intuitive standpoint, I don’t feel quite so disappointed that I couldn’t find a whole, irradiated mangosteen.

          The canned fruit, however, didn’t live up to the hype of its fresh counterpart. The can was filled mostly with syrup with the pale white innards of about six mangosteens bobbing dully within. Having soaked in sugar-water for who knows how long, the meat of the fruit was overly sweet in a way that clearly overpowered its true flavor. I can’t say it tasted bad, but it had some of the texture of canned peaches, but with a much blander taste. I can only believe that this can which made its way to me from Thailand simply does not do justice to the fresh fruit. Canned fruits never do, though, so I can’t say I was too surprised. The experience has not turned me off of mangosteens. On the contrary, I am now even more curious to taste the fruit in the state the tree intended. Of course, I find myself having to weigh my culinary curiosity against the environmental irresponsibility of shipping a fruit halfway across the globe. How are we to balance the unprecedented opportunities of our time (I doubt my parents have even heard of a mangosteen) with the unprecedented environmental crises of our time?

1.      http://www.delish.com/food-fun/banned-food

Tito Al's Favorites

          Like many of the foods on this blog, my “Tito Al’s Choice” fried pork skins came from a nearby Chinese supermarket. My friend who was shopping with me (actually the same one who raved about pomelos) recommended the pork skins, and as I thought they were kind of gross and therefore exotic, I grabbed a bag. A few days later, I wanted a snack and decided to give Tito Al’s a try. Despite the mild revulsion that accompanied my knowledge of what I was eating, I opened the bag and crunched down on one of the little puffs. It’s hard for me to articulate why eating an animal’s skin seems so much grosser than its meat – but it does.

Once you get past the strangeness though, Tito Al’s favorite snack tastes essentially like bacon, just with an added crunch. This snack – which a quick Google search reveals to be quite ubiquitous in Chinese and Filipino stores – left me of two minds. As I learn more about the industrial meat production system and find myself perched on the brink of vegetarianism, these pork skins bring with them the same legacy of injustice to animals, workers, and the environment. Simultaneously, since this is the system we currently have, wasting as little of the animal as possible is a good thing and if people like eating Tito Al’s, it’s fine by me. Personally, I didn’t find them tasty enough to keep me eating. I don’t know who Tito Al is, but I hope he varies his diet, because one serving of these fried skin strips contains 10% of your daily saturated fat, 5% of your daily cholesterol, and 9% of your daily sodium.

Bamboo shoots!

Never have I felt so much like a panda as when I lowered some bamboo shoot into my mouth. OK. So pandas don't use chopsticks, and their bamboo isn't pickled in salt and MSG, but still... I don't feel like a panda very often.

These shoots remain a bit of a mystery since the only recipes I could find called for fresh bamboo shoots or at the very least, unpickled ones. The only thing I can think to do with them is add them to some sort of stir fry or fried rice dish. My first move, however, was to try them on their own. The long, soggy strand tasted most powerfully like MSG. The texture and what I could make of the inherent taste of the plant were reminiscent of baby corn. Although the high salt and MSG content of my “crispy seasoned” shoots undoubtedly affects their nutritional value, a cup of bamboo shoots on their own provide 10% of daily fiber needs and 18% of daily potassium, which “helps to maintain normal blood pressure and a steady heartbeat.¹” These nutritional bonuses and their low calorie content make bamboo shoots “ideal for: weight loss” and “optimum health.²” So, while they haven’t reached the status of milk, bamboo shoots are an excellent candidate for the next “perfect food” craze. I can picture the ads now: “great for your heart, an excellent source of fiber, with that tangy crunch you love!” The narrator shouts this at us while we watch a fit young person and a cute panda share a good munch on some fresh young shoots.

I may be too cynical here, seeing as fiber and potassium are both important nutrients for a healthy diet, but after eating my – albeit overly processed – bamboo shoots, I can’t get too excited about such a flavorless food. When it comes down to, no matter how seasoned they are, I’m still eating a giant blade of grass.

1.     http://agsyst.wsu.edu/bambroc.pdf

2.     http://www.great-workout.com/nutrition/vegetables/bamboo-shoots-nutrition-facts.cfm

Grapefruit? Orange? Pomelo!

I love grapefruits. I am often disappointed in restaurants or cafeterias when they serve grapefruit halves because that is simply not enough grapefruit for me. I will happily tuck in to an entire juicy, pink grapefruit at breakfast. Imagine my surprise, then, when a friend of mine told me I had been missing out on one of the grapefruit's delicious ancestors, the pomelo! He told me he had first tried it in China, but not to worry because they could often be found in American supermarkets. Despite his urgings, I went about a year enjoying my status quo of grapefruit before I encountered a pomelo while grocery shopping with this project in mind.

To the untrained eye, a pomelo could easily be a grapefruit. The key difference is that pomelos are the largest citrus fruit; apparently, they can grow to up to a foot in diameter¹, but mine was only a little larger than an average grapefruit.

Upon cutting it open, I discovered a pink, grapefruit-like flesh, but the rind was very thick and spongy. I cut away a slice and peeled away the membrane which was much tougher than a grapefruit’s. Getting at the flesh was a bit of chore – somewhat like removing the seeds from a pomegranate – but it was a worthwhile endeavor. The fruit was juicy and refreshing, but also very mild. Since it looked so much like a grapefruit, I expected some of that unique, grapefruit-y bitterness, but that taste wasn’t present. It was overall an enjoyable experience, but the friend who had advocated them said it wasn’t as good as the ones he had eaten in the past. I guess I can’t complain about a less-than-perfect pomelo given that it’s February and the fruit probably travelled across the country just so I could have a new experience.

Still, I hope there are more pomelos in my future. I can only imagine what a pomelo tastes like fresh off the tree. I wonder why it’s such a relatively unknown fruit. It is the source of grapefruits, yet I’ve never seen pomelo juice for sale or even a fruit drink with the flavor. In a world where you can buy drinks flavored with dragonfruit, jackfruit, and all sorts of exotic sounding berries, why were pomelos left in the dust? Maybe the name just doesn’t conjure up that Indonesian paradise. Or, maybe their time just hasn't come yet. In Khatchadourian's "Taste Makers" article, Hagen and her team did taste and analyze a Tahitian pomelo, which sounded much more flavorful than mine. Mine didn't have any "hints of rice, peppercorn, and freshly cut grass²" – or maybe I'm just not a taste maker. In the article, after tasting the pomelo Hagen concluded, “a good soda²,” so when I see pomelo-ade for sale in the Blue Room, I’ll know who’s responsible. I’d be happy to see such a product made from my pomelo, so I can’t wait to get my hands on an even fresher one.

1.        http://www.theworldwidegourmet.com/products/fruits/pomelo/

2.        Khatchadourian, Raffi. “Taste Makers.” The New Yorker, November 23, 2009.

Happy Valentine's Day, Squid!

I am well aware of – and quite happy about – the fact that humans are omnivores. I take advantage of this fact every day. Still, there are some foods that just beg the question: who looked at that and decided to put it in their mouth?

For almost all of the first two decades of my life, squid fell into this category. Throughout my childhood, the question of eating a squid was simply moot. I knew that squid were slippery, had ten tentacles, and were certainly not food. Grilled cheese was good enough for me. As I entered adolescence and began encountering people who raved about fried calamari, I wasn’t swayed. I didn’t care what it was dipped in or how hot it was cooked – a squid is a squid.

Since the age of about 15 or 16, however, I have stopped rejecting new foods. At some point, I realized that I just love food and by being such a picky eater, I had been depriving myself of some delicious experiences. Even so, I never found myself driven to go out of my way to chew on some rubbery, tentacled, sea alien.

Much of the world, however, does not share my prejudice. Squid is eaten in various forms in as disparate locales as Sicily and Tokyo. About 200,000 tons of squid a year are consumed in Spain alone¹. And that statistic is from 1987 – I can only imagine how many of these strange creatures are eaten today.

It was with this squiddy history behind me and a calamari-loving girlfriend by my side that I found myself this February 14^th at an Italian restaurant looking down at the menu. And what did I find staring back at me from that prime menu spot, the first appetizer? Of course, calamari fritti. Feeling adventurous and self-sacrificial on this most sacred of Hallmark holidays, I suggested we split it.

Now, you might look at the picture and say, “that’s no fair – it’s all decked out in peppers and sundried tomatoes and dripping in herby vinegar.” Well I say a squid is a squid, and when tasted that dish there was no denying its squidness. As I had expected, the chewiness was there, but with it came an unexpected savoriness that complimented the satisfying crunch of the fried batter. The chef probably deserves as much praise as the squid, but the dish was delicious and I ate every last bite. A purist may say I have yet to really try squid, but it’s probably best to ease into these things, and my first try was a great success. Good news for me – maybe not so good for all the squid out there.

1.       http://findarticles.com/p/articles/mi_m3089/is_n2_v52/ai_10826769/