Snooty Foodies

I'm watching Food Network and I honestly just heard Giada claim that she learned this mah-velous trick at cooking school in Paris. Sooner or later, you hear every chef subtly slip in phrase like this. "When I was in Paris last time" or "I'm 'classically trained'" or "When I was studying under Chef Georges in the south of France" which is code for "I spent a butt-load of money going to Paris to study under other snooty chefs who have inflated egos and it gave me an ego the size of Detroit."

You know, Giada, who makes pasta every other episode, who uses lemon zest in everything and who lives on the beach in California. Which viewers know because the intro footage features Giada walking on the beach with her oh-so-handsome husband and her so-cute daughter. (Except she has a pseudo-Italian pronunciation for everything Italian and she refers to it as "pa'-stuh" and not "pah-stuh'" like the rest of us.) . Giada, the one where the cameras are always focused on her cleavage.

She actually told viewers last week that allspice comes from the Med, and "exotic" spice. You mean allspice? That berry that grows on spice bushes all over the Ozarks and probably northern Arkansas??? What a snob!

So the trick that was shared by a top chef in Paris was: removing the tomato seeds from the meat of the tomato doesn't water down the dish as much.

Really? You mean that trick that I learned from my Detroit-raised mother at the tender age of four? You mean that trick that I thought everyone knew and we didn't have to go to Paris, France to learn it? That trick?

Honestly, as a wanna-be foodie, I watch a lot of cooking shows and I'm amazed at how truly stupid these great chefs think the rest of us are.

The latest episode of Food Network Star touts that during the last episode, America gets to vote for the winner. Wow! Like, we haven't tasted a single dish these contestants are offering and we have to take the Judges' word for it that their dish was the best they've ever had or tasted like dog food or whatever.

Judges on these competitions tend to have very elevated views of their own palates...as in, they alone have the trained taste buds to discern the grain of cinnamon the contestant used in her ice cream and of course, they alone know that cinnamon doesn't EVER, UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES belong in ice cream. Or that he doesn't think raw onions belong in ANY dish, EVER. Snooty, I must say.

At least Ina, the Barefoot Contessa, while she has a lot of very good reasons for being snooty, isn't the snootiest. She lives in the Hamptons, for Chrissake, and her husband has a very well-paying job in the City, so she can afford to serve lobster at a beach party or not one but two ducks for her little dinner party of 30. (I couldn't fit 10 people in my dining room, let alone 30) The reason she isn't as snooty is, she explains things, not in a knowing, "I learned this in Parie" attitude, but in a straightforward, educating tone of voice. And she explains that for years she did something one way and then she learned another way which is much easier. As in, it wasn't wrong, it is just a better way to do it.

These TV chefs have an unnamed butcher and fish monger and baker in their hip pocket that they frequent (I know this because, they frequently say things like "Have your fishmonger do thus and so" or "your butcher should be able to find you a side of Argentian bison" or "my deli carries a rare, soft cheese made only in the mountains of Peru from llama milk").

What they don't tell you is the cheese is $50/ounce and the fish is only available to select customers on alternating Wednesday which are even not odd. In large cities, where you don't have a job outside of TV Land, so you have a whole day to wander around the City, looking in shops and having the fishmonger fillet your fish and the butcher butterfly your chicken. I imagine me trying to find a butcher anywhere in Food Lion and demand that he butterfly my chicken. That would go over real well.

They also make gobs and gobs of whatever dish they are preparing. As a single person household, even if I prepared a dish as practice (because you should never try a new dish on company, a sad fact I learned the hard way), I would be eating it for 3 months. And then you don't need a whole bottle of wine to deglaze the pan, you just need 2 tablespoons and what are you going to do with the rest of the $60 bottle?

I do appreciate it when they say, "If you can't find xyz, you can substitute abc." At least, I think that's what they are saying. Maybe, just maybe, they are saying "If you are too poor to buy this wild cod caught off the shores of Borneo, then you can cheap out and serve white fish."

I well remember the first time I ever tasted caviar. It wasn't exactly a staple on my family's table, what with having 5 kids and my dad's professor's salary. So I was an adult before I ever tasted it. It seemed to me at the time that it was the ultimate in sophistication, the epitome of glamour and suave-i-tay. (see how I made up a French word) I took one very sophisticated small bite and then had to delicately spit it into my napkin, the way Mrs. Morehead taught us in Manners class. I don't think her example was for caviar, I think it had something to do with "what if you ever put a too-soft berry in your mouth" or something.

Anyway, I had to gulp some champagne to wash the rotten fish/salty taste out of my mouth. The taste was reminiscent of the docks down in Houston where we would go to buy shrimp. Not the shrimp, the actual dock water. And this is what goes for $100/pound, I thought to myself. Some things are obviously an acquired taste and some things are just downright inedible. Some fishmonger, with too much roe on his hands, saw them coming and made it out to be the latest and greatest in epicureanism.

Snooty, I'd say.

She Got Grit(s)

My favorite niece (I'm calling her that in order to get the other favorite nieces' attention) recently posted the fact that she was in South Carolina eating shrimp and grits. And here I thought she was a very sophisticated, cultured and intelligent person. Guess I was wrong if she's actually admitting to eating Grits!

Now, I've done time ('scuse me, spent time) in the South and I know they love their grits. The thing is...I can't abide them. I've eaten wall paper paste with more flavor. Which might explain why I never, ever felt at home in the South. The rest of my family thinks of it as their home, but the Southern inoculation never took on me. I am unrepentantly a Yankee. I fully expect to be struck off a few Facebook pages because of this statement. Whenever a die-hard Southerner hears me say that I hate grits, they assure me I just haven't had them prepared properly. (gag)

Because aside from the flavorless, colorless blah gritty texture (at least they are aptly named), it's the preparation that puts me off. Grits, for the uninformed, are made from hominy. And hominy is made from corn kernels that have been soaked like 52 years in lye. You heard me. Lye.
The same stuff which is poisonous when ingested. The same stuff that you don't dare handle with bare hands, on account of it eats your skin off. You know, LYE.

And since grits are so colorless and flavorless, all the cooking shows are adding flavor and color like crazy in order to make the crap palatable. Evidently grits are the new sushi...I've discussed at length in a prior blog how I feel about raw fish. The hoity-toity chefs, proving that they are all about slumming it these days, prepare grits a hundred different ways. They add tons of butter, they add milk (gives all that grit at least some creaminess, purportedly), they add shrimp, they add peppers, they add cheese. A waste of good cheese and shrimp if you ask me.

If a food has so little flavor that it requires Herculean efforts to give it taste, why not take some shrimp and cheese and peppers and just make a dish out of that? Why ruin good food with grits?

The South is all about claiming grits as their staple food. Georgia (as in the State of) has declared grits to be their "state prepared food". (Don't get me started on states, including mine, having a State this and State that and State the other. Not content with just a State flower, they have State amphibians and insects and autumn trees and spring trees and dogs and microbe.)

Trouble is, the Native Americans were the first to manufacture the stuff and it was their dish, not the South's. Yet another contribution Native Americans have given European culture that goes unacknowledged.

So, while I know I will offend quite a few of my Southern friends and family with this unmasking of the unholy origin of grits, maybe there are others out there, like me, who can't stand the stuff and have been too embarrassed or shy or polite to say so. Never let it be said that I was too polite to say I hate grits. I say we start a support group.