Foodie Inspirations

One of my old issues of Bon Appetit (it is an older issue as I have no time to read it anymore it seems) had a section on defining food moments. What, in your lifetime, was your defining food moment or moments? That point where food became more than just sustenance? Where food became intriguing? What helped you define yourself further from being a mere consumer?

Ok, so those last three are my spin on the question since in Bon Appetit it was posed to a bunch of chefs. And I am not a chef – but I think the question is still relevant.

I was always a horribly picky child. Horribly. I rarely tried anything new and I preferred bland food. I ate mild salsa. And I dipped my chip carefully so as to not get any chunks on my chip, then I would shake it so I didn’t get too much salsa. Seriously.

Wow have I come a long way.

I recall a few food defining moments…

The first one that pops to mind was when I started dating a guy in my freshman year of college. He had a bit of hippy to him and had worked in kitchens throughout Northern Colorado. In that nearly two years we dated, he taught me to cook. Really cook, as in not food preparation for mere sustenance. We ate at some fabulous restaurants and cooked great food and used it as an excuse to gather with friends.

When we were first starting to date he took me to El Chapultapec in downtown Denver and we ordered green chili. I was still picky, but despite my fear, I wasn’t going to let it show.

I took one bite of my steaming bowlful of green chili in front of me and I started to cry. It burned. It hit my tastebuds. It paralyzed my taste buds. I gagged. I gulped water. I cried some more.

And then I went back for more.

It was delicious and had flavors I never knew existed.

I am positive I permanently maimed my taste buds that evening. But it was a good thing.

My second food defining moment was when I was new in my job out of grad school. AB and I were invited to go have Thanksgiving dinner with one of my managers. It was one of the first times that we either weren’t traveling to Colorado to be with my family, or weren’t hosting ourselves. We felt a bit out of sorts about eating at someone else’s house for Thanksgiving, but we embraced it.

Dinner was very traditional and good. But everyone was so excited for dessert – pie! I knew I could embrace this. I love pie. Pie is my family’s way of doing dessert. I had eaten pie since I was a child and there is NO other way to finish up Thanksgiving dinner. Pie is what Thanksgiving is all about to me. I could care less about turkey usually. But pie? Yum. So when the manager told me a week in advance that pie was their centerpiece for the meal, I knew this would go over well.

Once there though, my perceptions changed. Then I was a bit horrified.

My hosts pulled out a few boxes out of the freezer and tossed frozen pies into the oven.

They pulled the pies out later and everyone ooh’d and aah’d over the pies.

I tried not to turn up my nose. I took a piece.

Then I went home and vowed to learn to make pie crust. To this point I had accepted that I was not a pie crust maker and relied on eating my mom’s pies. Only occasionally attempting pie myself and dealing with the fact that I had tough ugly crusts.

A year or so later I had mastered pie crust and resolved to never ever ever be forced to eat frozen box pies for Thanksgiving dinner ever again.

My pie crusts may not be pretty, but I can crank the pies out with ease.

Four Ingredients

to deliciousness.

When I was a little kid I loved getting the phone call from my grandma saying that they were having hamhocks and beans for dinner. Because it meant that I got to go over to their house and eat it with them.

My grandpa would mix up four ingredients and come out with my favorite dish - or one of two of my favorite dishes (the other being tuna fish casserole). One of my favorite memories is sitting there at that old metal table of theirs eating ham hocks and beans with my Pa.

My version:

Soak one bag of Great Northern beans overnight.

Brown 4-6 ham hocks on all sides in a large stock pot.
Remove ham hocks.
Cook 1 diced onion in stock pot (if need be, add a bit of canola oil so it doesn't stick).
Cook until translucent.
Add 2 quarts of chicken broth.
Add soaked Great Northern beans.
Return ham hocks to pan and bring to a boil.
Cover, reduce to a simmer and cook for 2-3 hours.
Salt as needed.
Enjoy.

I have worked the kids up to eating the ham from the soup. And the other day Leif ate a bean accidentally that stuck to the inside of the ham. And it wasn't awful! I will have them eating ham hocks and beans. It is a family tradition on my side of the family that runs as deep as Swedies on AB's side.

The dreaded - or loved - tuna fish casserole

One of the only meals my mom would make as a kid and be assured I would clean my plate was tuna fish casserole. Easy... boil some noodles and drain. Add a can of tuna, a can of cream style corn, and a can of cream of mushroom soup. Season with Morton's Natures Seasoning (yes, it HAS to be this... I bought Morton's simply to have for my tuna casserole). Pop it in a dish, top with shredded cheddar and bake. Easy.

And delicious. I used to eat it all the time.

Emphasis on "used".

See my husband hates it. Hates it. Hates it. Hates it.

He is a lost cause I have given up on.

My son though, I always thought I could mold into a tuna fish casserole lover.

Tonight when I got home AB said to me, "did you remember I was going to the pub tonight with work people?"

No, I didn't remember since he hadn't reminded me over the last week. But I shoo'd him out the door after a quick visit with the neighbors. These rare occasions that AB goes out are my opportunity to mold my young son's mind.

I quickly pulled the ingredients off the shelves and got to work.

I came up with a plan while cooking. I called it "macaroni and cheese with corn". Afterall it was topped with cheese. And he likes corn.

I served Leif up making sure he got a good amount of cheese on his.

I sat on pins and needles as I chowed the yummy goodness, savoring every morsel.

"What is this?" he asks skeptically.

"It's macaroni and cheese with corn," I said. It sorta is.

"It isn't Spiderman macaroni and cheese," he says. (Thanks to N for forever hooking Leif on Spiderman mac and cheese - we can't just have regular mac and cheese anymore.)

"No, it's homemade, I made it," I said.

He picked up a bite and ate it. I noted he got a cheesy bite. He drank a drink of juice.

One bite down! Optimism was setting in!

He picked up another more "saucy" bite.

His face turned, the shell was spewed across the table and the whining ensued, "I don't like this!"

How many times exactly are you supposed to try a new food before declaring a dislike?

Meanwhile, my daughter has aligned with me. She ate all of hers. I knew she was the good one.