Men are from Mars, etc

When it comes to recipes and how to handle them, those classic gender differences that may have their roots in the Stone Age distinctions between men as hunters and woman as gatherers do seem to play a role. Just as men hate to ask for directions while women demand them, guys who cook seem ready to improvise while our mates hesitate to try anything for which they may not have the exact ingredients.

While I have far more cookbooks than most sane individuals, I admit I look at them for probably all the wrong reasons. I look for clues about a spice I might not have thought about, or a trick in preparation that might not occur to me otherwise. Occasionally I actually do try to follow the steps in a recipe, but usually I attempt to get a feeling for how a certain set of tastes and textures should come together. I'm part of the "dash of this, pinch of that" school. After all, it seems rather arbitrary that we need to measure so exactly with the clear exception of baking, where there are crucial matters of chemistry involved.

I was very much influenced in this when I took some cooking classes in New Orleans. The instructors--male, of course--were not concerned about exact measurements or proportions. What counted was that we understood how to make a roux--flour browned in oil--that would be the base for so many wonderful dishes. That was technique. How much of the holy trinity--the somewhat irreverent Cajun expression for the combination of celery, onion, and green bell peppers--we might toss in once this was done depended more on what would fit in the pot with all the other good stuff, such as chicken and Andouille sausage, than on some exact rule of a cup of this to half a cup of that. I liked those guys, even if they were shills for a store's stock of prepared spices.

There finally can be just one rule: how something tastes. The second great tragedy of processed foods, beginning with what we feed our infants, is that almost all subtlety is obliterated through the sheer quantity of salt or sugars added in (the first, of course, is the effect on health). Good spices ought to enhance the natural flavor of what's being cooked, but if someone is especially aware of a spice--an issue when it comes to come to using a hot sauce--then we are not cooking as we should. Either that, or the items being cooked need to be disguised, and now that good meat and fish and good produce are more readily available to us urban types such gimmicks should not really be necessary.

Watching "Julie and Julia"

Okay, after watching the wonderful foodies' film Julie and Julia, I decided to try my own hand at blogging about my efforts to turn what I find in the grocery into something those close to me will rave about. That's not easy. I can write about what happens in my kitchen, but actually turning out rave-worthy meals is something else altogether. I'm starting to get the knack of it, but I have a long way to go.

Only hours after seeing the film did I think about the fact that the wonderful dishes presented on screen had not actually been prepared by Meryll Streep or Amy Adams. That's how well the suspension of belief had worked in my case. Expert chefs had done their job, and even if the results had been less than palatable some wonderful actors would not have given this away. The point was that I wanted a taste--and, even more, I wanted to know how to get these results.

My wife asked me if I now wanted to get a copy of Julia Child's cookbook to add to my collection, which now has about a hundred titles. I'm afraid I collect cookbooks the way would-be authors collect books on writing--or would-be Casanovas collect sex manuals. Maybe this time I'll find the key to realizing my dreams.

I told her, though, that with our cholesterol issues I did not think it was a good idea to go with Julia, for whom there never could be enough butter. I try to make do with olive oil or other less artery-clogging ingredients (although I love the taste of butter, especially Irish butter).

However, I did agree to finally commit some of my own culinary adventures to writing. So often, she reminds me, I will put a lot of things together to prepare a dish she loves and would like to have again, but she knows too well she may never see it again.

This blog is one effort to start recording what I do come up with as well as some of my own thoughts about food and its preparation. In a few days we are having company over and I intend to start off with a salad that I really like.

I use pearl tomatoes (if possible a mixture of types and ideally some heirloom varieties), Persian cucumbers, and a dressing that I prepare with plain yogurt, sour cream, and tzaziki mix (ground garlic and onion).

First I slice the cucumbers fairly thin with one per plate and arrange them. If the tomatoes are not just the size of small marbles, I slice them in half so that I have about eight or ten pieces per plate and I arrange these on top of the cucumbers. I prepare a dressing that is about half yogurt and half sour cream, a couple of tablespoons each with a half-teaspoon or so of the tzaziki mix per serving. I then spread this on top and sprinkle with toasted black sesame seeds (available in Asian food markets). Serve chilled and it's a lovely combination of flavors.