Uberfluff

Today's Daily Fluff is all about the importance of tuna sandwich compatibility.  Now, some would say that tuna compatability is not nearly as important to a relationship as pizza topping compatibility, and I can certainly see the merit of that point--especially in the case of  couples who don't much care for canned tuna.  But I will maintain that among couples that enjoy both, the tuna sandwich is still the weightier consideration.  After all, there's generally room for compromise when it comes to pizza.  You may not have your ideal slice, having had to leave off the green peppers or anchovies or whatever.  (Someone, somewhere likes anchovies, right?)  But you'll still be left with something that is basically enjoyable.

Tuna, however, is a different matter.  Even the subtlest variations can totally ruin the sandwich.  If you're one of those people who adds curry powder, you're not going to enjoy the compromise result.  No one will, really.  AI know that there are people who like tuna sandwiches with absolutely nothing added to it but mayonnaise and maybe salt, but there's something wrong with that.  I suspect these people are all budding serial killers. 

(Incidentally, my iron clad rules for a proper tuna sandwich?  Use the kind packed in olive oil, and add mayo, salt, pepper, mustard, and onions.  I don't object to a dash of Old Bay seasoning, if you're so inclined, but adding chopped celery is tantamount to an act of war.  My mother used to add celery to stretch the meal--yes, it's part of one's innate Filipino-ness to try to strech a 50-cent can of tuna when one is fairly comfortable financially--and celery in tuna still makes me mad.  It doesn't taste like anything but watery crunch.  The only use for celery is on veggie trays and with buffalo wings.)

Hello.  Today, in addition to the Daily Fluff, we have . . . er . . . nothing.  I'm sorry. My bad.  I meant to have begun a regular review of Top Chef: Masters today, but unfortunately, work intervened, and it will have to wait until later this week, when I can catch up on last night's episode.  Having seen the first episode, I'm feeling pretty optimistic about this show, since it features high-profile chefs in Top Chef challenges--a neat way to mix up competition from the now-played-out Iron Chef format.

Speaking of Iron Chefs, I recently finished reading Heat, which spends a great deal of time following the career of Mario Batali, with the author working in the Babbo kitchen, then going to Italy to learn pasta and butchering.  (Quick review: As food-oriented books go, it's pretty interesting, and the writing is very good.  However, if you're not completely passionate about food, it gets a little tiresome to watch someone meditate on it at such length, and you may run out of patience by the time you get to the Dante-quoting Tuscan butcher.) 

Anyway, Heat opens with the author hosting a dinner party in his home, to which he has invited Mario Batali.  His wife asks him something along the lines of, "How could you invite a famous chef to our house for dinner?"  And I found myself agreeing with her to some extent.  Imagine that you've invited a world-famous chef to dinner this week.  What on earth would you cook?  Going by the account in Heat, Batali is a fantastic guest, who arrives bearing armloads of alcohol and gourmet treats, helps clean and cook, dispensing tips along the way, and gets everyone drunk and invites you to share the Commissioner's box at the Giants game the next day.  But even in light of that, I'm not sure if it's worth the trade-off of having to prepare dinner in front of a world-class chef.  I don't have a go-to dinner that I could confidently fall back on, and I know better than to try to do something daring and new in this situation.  I suppose I would go with the, "my ethnic grandmother handed this adobo recipe down to me," route--on the theory that if it isn't good, you can still get points for authenticity if you fail on taste.  (Because under the circumstances, I don't know if sending out for Dominos in the case of total disaster is an option either.)

So it appears that Kate Moss, she whose face launched a thousand eating disorders, is planning to "write" a cookbook.  Really.  Not only that, but rumor is that it will be a kosher cookbook as she has recently gotten very excited about kosher cooking.  That's so weird because I had no idea that cocaine is kosher.  Maybe it's just that you're not allowed to combine it with heroin at the same meal.

I say "write" because cynic that I am, I find it difficult to believe that Moss herself is going to be placing actual words into sentences in preparation for the cookbook's release.  I'm assuming that some poor shmuck who has never graced a catwalk will be doing the heavy lifting on this project.  However, I have no doubt that we will get to see Kate in all her glory when it comes time to publicize it--leading right up to the most annoying cliche of all: the interview with the Supermodel who claims to love food and packs down a 6-course meal in front of the impressed interviewer.  Along with claims about how ugly and awkward they were as teens, that might be my most hated supermodel trope ever.

As some of you know, I'm a bad Catholic--which means that I subscribe to Catholicism, but am terrible about keeping all of the observances.  Which, come to think of it, may make me an average Catholic.  Anyway, as I mentioned in the Daily Fluff, yesterday was the begining of Lent, the traditional time for giving up candy bars while hoping to lose a few pounds before spring.

And of course, there's the meat thing.  If you're not Catholic and have always wondered about the glut of fried fish commercials during March, now you have the explanation.  We Catholics are supposed to abstain from meat from Fridays during Lent.  Unless we forget and get a burger or slice of pepperoni pizza for lunch.  Then, we're supposed to stare guiltily at our meal for a minimum of 5 seconds and attempt to quickly come up with a justification for eating it anyway.  Popular choices include, "Aw, hell. I already screwed up so I may as well finish," and, "I'll just make up for it tomorrow--oh wait, I have that barbecue.  Ok, I'll make up for it on Monday."

The funny thing to me about the no-meat thing is that I'm sure it seemed like a good idea at the time.  Only being able to eat fish or vegetarian food must have seemed like a hell of a sacrifice back before safe transport of seafood and culinary knowledge had advanced quite as widely.  (Though there was an interesting effort among various monestaries, etc. to categorize some things--like rabbit--as "fish" for the purposes of Lent.  Which is a much more creative response to the mistake guilt mentioned above.  It's a shame that I don't have the religious authority to declare pepperoni to count as "fish."  I also think that the whole fish-on-Fridays thing is to blame for those people who say that they're vegetarian, but eat seafood.  Sorry, real vegetarians.  I know those people are annyong.  Our bad.) 

Anyway, as I was saying, I think it's more or less getting over if you enjoy lobster or shrimp scampi or sushi, etc., etc. for your Friday Lenten meal.  How is that supposed to be keeping to the spirit of deprivation?  "Yeah, it's Lent, so I can't eat steak today.  I know!  I'll have the lobster."  I think that the rules should be amended a bit so that you can eat meat, but you would have to eat a disappointing meal on Fridays during Lent.  So, for example, good sushi would be a no-no, but you could eat Spaghettios instead.  Or a hot pocket.  Or just about anything at Olive Garden.  You get the point.

Last night's episode of Top Chef featured a pretty interesting challenge, where the contestants were charged with making the preferred last meal of some very famous superstar chefs (like Jacques Pepin, Wiley Dufresne, Lidia Bastianich, etc.)  Almost without exception, the last meal picks were simple (if artful) dishes like roast chicken, eggs benedict, or shrimp scampi.  And two of the chefs (Pepin and Marcus Samuelsson) picked last meals that hearkened back to childhood memories.  (Pepin chose the roast squab and peas that were part of the celebratory meals of his youth, while Samuelsson chose the salmon, potatoes, and spinach that defined his childhood in Sweden.)

The interesting thing about it to me is how the last meal choices are both surprising and common sense at the same time.  If you don't give the question much thought, you might think that the last meal choice of a foodie would be about the most decadent fine cuisine available.  But I'm not sure that's what any of us really want in a last meal.  I think it comes down to emotion, nostalgia, and comfort--that's why so many of the choices in the Top Chef episode evoked childhood meals.  And I would probably go the same way myself.  Though it's not my #1 favorite food, my last meal would be adobo the way my mom makes it.  (Pork, really crispy and garlicky, not at all soupy.  With white rice and maybe some spinach on the side.)  There may be other dishes that I would want for special occasions or as dining experiences, but nothing speaks more to me about home and comfort than adobo.  (And I don't really like Filipino food all that much--this is more or less the only exception, and I don't even get to  make it very often because it makes the house reek of vinegar and garlic.)

So, what would you pick for your last meal?

I almost mentioned this in the last update to Our Issues with Top Chef, but I think it applies beyond food--though food is definitely the easiest example.  It's the authenticity thing.  To my disappointment, one of my favorite contestants on Top Chef went home last night, and while his dish was being judged, one of the judges (a Brit judging Miami cuisine by the way, which I'll gloss over here, but which is irritating in its own right) commented that another version of the dish was, "more authentic."  This wasn't a contest to make a more authentic meal, however.  It was supposed to be about tasting better.  So the authenticity issue really annoyed me.

In most hobbies/areas of interest there is some version of this authenticity issue.  In music, it's often more about who has "sold out" their sound or style.  But the essence of the debate remains the same.  In one corner, there is the view that authenticity imparts a special quality to something and is desirable for its own sake, and in the other corner, there's the view that it doesn't matter at all how "authentic" something may be as long as it's enjoyable.

Personally, the authenticity fetishists make me a little crazy.  I can understand the virtue of perserving authenticity, but it shouldn't be elevated over enjoyability.  If I told you that I had two plates of lasagna/punk bands/Hong Kong style action movies and that one of them was really authentic and one was really good, and that it could be that one plate/band/movie was both authentic and good or it could be that only one was authentic and the other was good, and you had to pick which one attribute you would rather have. . . well, there are definitely people who would take the promise of authenticity over the promise of enjoyment.  And I just don't get that.  Heck, I think the entire concept of authenticity is something of a red herring, as it's half PR and uncertain as hell.  Who decides what's authentic, after all?  It's not something that can really be measured, and it can be debated to death.

Bottom line: why strive for purity over quality?  They're not even close to being the same thing, and the fact that something is popular but not authentic is not (in itself) a reason to dislike it.  (Which opens a whole other can of worms about deriding popular taste, but that will have to wait for another day.)

Actually, in honor of today's Daily Fluff, this was originally going to be about Ice Cube vs. Ice T, but unfortunately I don't know quite enough about either to give an informed opinion.  I know that Ice T gives funnier interview quotes, but he's also in a Law & Order franchise, so that's a bit of a draw.

So instead, I'm going to focus on the, "breakfast with no hog," issue.  I think that I've already made the case that a breakfast with no pork products is a sad,, sad thing.  But that does leave the question of bacon vs. sausage in terms of which pork product is better.  Me, I lean toward bacon.  I'm well aware that there are plenty of interesting and delicious varieties of sausage, and that makes it pretty difficult to discount the sausage category entirely.  But when it comes right down to it, I don't think anything can beat out the pure yumminess that is good bacon.  It's the gateway meat.  That's why there are vegetarians with a bacon exception.  Plus, it gets points for texture.  Honestly, I don't know how anyone could make a comparable case for sausage.  People even add bacon to dessert sometimes.  Beat that, Bob Evans.

Despite the bitter, wince-inducing cold outside, I've been on a bit of an ice cream kick lately.  These phases, of course, always start with over-the-top sundaes, and then (as I get lazier) devolve into eating Ben & Jerry's right out of the container.  Among the easily-available supermarket brands, Ben & Jerry's tends to win out pretty easily despite the cutesey flavor names and the holier-than-thou vibe.  (Though I confess that I don't eat the Phish Food flavor out of principle, since I'm still bearing a considerable grudge against certain Phish fans whom I knew in college.  May they spend their days in hell, listening to nothing but speed metal.)  I know that Haagen Dazs actually has a new premium line that's supposed to be very good, but Ben & Jerry's is generally on sale and Haagen Dazs almost never is, so that explains why I haven't really ventured into the fancy-shmancy new stuff from them.  I also know that someone is going to point out that nothing can beat the ice cream that you can make at home.  That may be true, but when I want ice cream, I want it now.  Not after I remember to cook a custard, cool it to room temperature, chill it for a day, chill it for another day when I realize that I forgot to freeze the machine bowl, freeze the ice cream machine bowl insert, churn the ice cream in the machine, and then refreeze it for several hours.  I can't plan my gluttony ahead by that much.

Anyway, while I'm largely happy with my Ben and Jerry's choices, every once in a while, I get a bit of a dud.  And alas, that happened last night with the Cheesecake Brownie flavor.  I guess that I shouldn't have tried to branch out into something new, but it sounded so good.  In the end though--too much cheesecake flavor, not enough brownie.  Lately, the consistent favorite has been Cinnamon Buns--though Chubby Hubby is also great if you can find it.  (Why does no one stock this one?)  And is it just me, or is Cherry Garcia not as good as it used to be?  I feel like I'm getting fewer and fewer good cherry chunks in it.

So, what's your favorite?

This has caused any number of household arguments, but I have a strange fascination with food pickiness.  Not to mince words--I just don't get it.  Now, I'm not talking about having a few preferences and aversions.  Heck, even that Bizarre Foods guy on tv (whom I've seen happily ingesting whale blubber and insects) can't stomach durian or fermented tofu.  Everyone has a few things that they try to avoid.  (For me, it's bananas, mushrooms, organ meats, and anything that could be described as "gelatinous.")  I'm thinking here of people who can't abide whole lists and categories of perfectly ordinary food. 

Example: I was reading about a British show that was supposed to be about helping super-picky eaters branch out, and apparently one of the guys on the show had a diet that consisted entirely of cheese and bread in some form.  Essentially, the guy lived off of grilled cheese sandwiches.  I seem to recall that during a family vacation in Greece, the grandmother had to come from England with some bread and cheddar so that he'd be able to eat.

Ok, obviously that's a super-extreme example, but I've still heard some damned weird stuff.  My brother-in-law once dated a girl who seemed to eat only potatoes in some form.  Seriously, we would all go out to eat, and she'd only ever order french fries or mashed potatoes.  For awhile, I wondered if she was the most incompetent anorexic ever.  I've also known people who won't eat any meat other than chicken breasts; who won't eat any Mexican/Chinese/Indian/etc. food; who swear that anything beyond salt and pepper is too spicy, etc., etc.  Not a few of them claim that it's because they're "supertasters."  Bitch, please.  That's like claiming that you don't have any friends because you're "borderline Asperger's."  You're just picky.  Deal with it.

Anyway, for me the test of whether you're ridiculously picky is if you would rather starve or create a major social solecism rather than eat the things on your picky list.  For example, I hate bananas and their half-firm, half-mushy texture, but I would have no problem eating a banana if I was very, very hungry or if it was part of the dessert at my dinner with the Queen of England.  Still, in the spirit of fairness, I have been creating a list of things that would really try my resolve.  Therefore, here are the things that--given the choice between starvation and eating them--would definitely cause me to hesitate for a few minutes:

1.) Balut.  Like so many completely mysterious definitions of "food", this hails from Asia--specifically, the Philippines.  This is the partially fertilized egg of a duck or chicken.  Essentially you eat a partially-developed bird embryo.  All of it, including partially-developed bones.  I once watched my grandfather eat one and it made me want to run away from home.  And I was in my own apartment at the time.

2.) Bird's Nest Soup.  I have a horror of all things slimy and gelatinous, and in one of his books, Anthony Bourdain (who, for the record, didn't want to eat it either) describes it as both.  Also, it's made from old swallow nests, which are built with bird spit and have often housed actual birds for some time.  Ick.

3.)Stinky Tofu.  Frankly, even regular tofu isn't exactly on my all-time favorites list, and this is tofu that has essentially been allowed to "ferment" until it turns black and malodorous.

4.) Any kind of grub or beetle.  Honestly, I'm not even sure whether this should count sinc though some people eat them, I can't imagine that it's anyone's favorite snack.  And I'm being specific to grubs and beetles here--basically anything where a large outer casing hides a rich trove of mushy insect guts.  I'm not nearly as concerned about other insect-based foods.  For example, the Thai deep-fried chili-spiced grasshoppers.  I'm not going to seek them out, but I wouldn't ponder death over eating them either.

So that's what I've got for now.  Any additions?