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Friday, May 11, 2007

I cook like a girl

Yinyang_soupAn article in the London Times caught my attention. According to the article "Sex on a Plate" (from Monday, May 7), many cooks and food writers believe there's a vast gulf between the way men and women cook. The article's author, Shiela Keating, suggests that the differences are so obvious that you could tell just by looking at a dish if a man or a woman cooked it. She even put her assertions to the test.

I look at my own dishes and I'm not so sure. Based on the author's criteria, I'm quite sure that I cook like a girl. Honestly, were the author's generalizations true, no statement would flatter me more. I tend to look to grandmothers — my own and others' — for inspiration at the stove. The article got this boy who cooks like a girl pondering this question: are the differences between the sexes in the kitchen as readily apparent as the Ms. Keating suggests?

The author starts off persuasively. She invokes the authority of a woman so many of us greatly admire, Alice Waters. Who would dare dispute Alice? (oh, right). Alice says: "The simpler the dish, the chances are it is probably made by a woman." She adds:

    "Women’s natural instincts, especially if they have children, are to be nurturing. Our main focus is to feed people something that is good for them and that will make them happy . . . some men are in touch with that side of things, but educationally and culturally they are encouraged to look at cooking from a career point of view, to see it as an artistic endeavor. They tend to be more self-absorbed and involved in their own creations and self-expression and more disconnected from what’s happening in the dining room. Instead of ‘Are people liking the food?’ they are more likely to think: ‘I am the Chef, they should be liking it’."

In her article, Ms. Keating uses the following words and quotes to describe the differences between male and female cooking styles:

    Feminine: simple, honest, relaxed, spontaneous, pared-back, ingredients-led, seasonal, nurturing, nutritious, lighter, healthier, more consistent, "more concerned with substance," "a little bit more je ne sais quoi,  a little more flair and finesse," "not worried about what other people are doing or what's fashionable," "doesn't matter to me how fast I can chop," "think of myself as a cook, not a chef"

    Masculine: extravagant, robust, artistic, showy, experimental, self-absorbed, strict, ordered, competitive, bad-ass, bigger, stronger, bolder, high-octane, testosterone-fueled, macho, swaggering, molecular-gastronomy, wizardry, element of surprise, "need to impress," "the boys just want to get on to the most difficult section of the kitchen," "buy a fantastic piece of meat, slam it in the oven and crack open a bottle"

Looking at my own style of cooking (remember, as a man I can't help but be "self-absorbed"), every word in the "feminine" column describes the way I cook. With the exception of my navel-gazing ways, the masculine column doesn't fit me or my cooking style.

As I said, labeling my approach to cooking "feminine" would make me proud. I've gone out of my way to work at restaurants owned by women and to apprentice under female chefs. Peggy, Annie, Loretta, Barbara, Donia, Dana, and Jen are the first names of cooks I count as mentors. Amongst the few men I've cooked with, I only count Russ and Mark as mentors. And neither of them, I'd bet, would be offended if you told them they cook like girls.

My favorite cookbook authors and cooks? Mostly women. Marcella, Alice, Ruth, Rose, Judy, Patricia, Suzanne, Janet, Anya, Penelope, Samantha, Annie, Julie, Madhur, Lindsey, Claudia, and Gabrielle (let's see if anyone can correctly guess the last names of all those authors and cooks).

Need more evidence of my girlie ways? Molecular-gastronomy (or whatever you call it) doesn't interest me. Then again, neither did high school chem class. I've tried to get excited about new wave avant-garde techniques. Really, I have. I went all the way to El Bulli in Spain. I've eaten at El Cellar de Can Roca (Girona), Commerç 24 (Barcelona), and WD-50 (New York). All those multi-course meals were interesting and amusing (and pricey) ways to while away an evening. But I don't crave anything I ate those nights. Most dishes I hardly remember. With the exception of low temperature cooking and sous-vide, I find most avant-garde techniques overmanipulate the ingredients in such a way that the results detract from the overall integrity of the dish. But that's just me. What do you expect from someone who looks to grannies for inspiration?

Am I and my girlie ways merely one exception to Ms. Keating's rule? The author admits no. She mentions other, in her words, "contradictions to [her] generalizations" (Simon Hopkinson, Rowley Leigh, Alastair Little, and Jeremy Lee), but I've never heard of any of them (British readers, please enlighten me). In my own backyard, I suspect that Craig, Nate, Laurence (again, guess the last names!) and maybe a dozen (or a dozen dozen) other male chefs in the Bay Area cook the type of simple, honest, ingredients-led food that the author labels feminine? Perhaps Ms. Keating would dismiss the entire Bay Area restaurant scene (myself included) as one big anomaly, a hot bed for men who cook like women?

Some evidence, on the other hand, suggests that there's an outside possibility that I cook like a boy. I like to play with knives and fire. I like curing and smoking meat and fish. I admire Mario, Anthony, Fergus, and Montreal's Martin (ha! more surnames to guess). I find Jamie amusing. I eat offal.

Wait a minute. I know a lot of women who like all those people and things too (especially Anthony, though I suspect for different reasons). Could it just be the whacked out food-obsessed crowd I hang with? Come to think of it, some of the most bad-ass swaggering macho competitive cooks I've worked with happen to be women. Also, aren't there a few women (Elena and Aki, for example) who are into avant-garde techniques? And, while we're on the topic, self-absorption is hardly unique to the male of the species. Perhaps you've heard of Madonna, Britney, or Paris. What oh what could all these exceptions mean??

Oh, I know. It means that Ms. Keating's premise is a heap of rubbish. Do we really need one more way to encourage pointless stereotypes? Didn't we get enough of that Martian men/Venutian women crap at the end of the last century? Aren't there some factors that are perhaps a wee bit more significant in influencing how someone cooks than which sex organs he or she is born with? Don't we all, men and women, have both feminine and masculine aspects?

Now that you know my take, what's yours?

Do you think you could tell the sex of the person who cooked your meal based on what the finished plate looks like? Do you think there's a big difference between the way men and women cook?

Tuesday, May 08, 2007

Fridge Flashing

Subject: unedited and unposed photo of the contents of my refrigerator.

Date photo taken: Friday, May 4, 2007.

From the looks of my refrigerator, you wouldn't have guessed that N and I were leaving town the next day for an impromptu trip north for the weekend.

Refrigerator_2

Receiving a weekly Community Supported Agriculture (CSA) basket from Two Small Farms every week is a mixed blessing. On the plus side, my fridge is bursting with fresh locally grown organic produce for just $20. The negative side? Same sentence, heavy emphasis on the word bursting. When you catch yourself fearing that you can't go away for the weekend because you'll fall behind in your veggie consumption, it's time to worry. Or feel guilty. Or, in my case, both. [Thanks, Mom]. I'm starting to feel like Sisyphus. Instead of a boulder, I have a CSA basket.

This picture was snapped 2 days after picking up last week's basket. Thursday, after a meeting with my Oakland-based architect, I headed to Berkeley to pick up a Hoffman free-range chicken (delivered fresh Wednesdays and Fridays) at Magnani Poultry and some sweet sweet sweet strawberries from Lucero at the Thursday farmers' market on Shattuck. Now that the bridge toll's gone up a buck, I wanted to make sure I got my money's worth from the trip. [Thanks again, Mom]. For good measure, I swung across town and tried the ice cream at Ici for the first time. Angels sang when I tasted the voluptuous scoop of chocolate. The marsala was "just good" in comparison.

But we're talking fridges here. Click on the picture above to get a detailed description of virtually every item in my fridge (If you're reading this post in an RSS reader, you may need to click through to IPOS to access the detailed descriptions). A window will pop up from my FlickR page. Hover your cursor over the food item and read the descriptions to your heart's content. Go on, peep away. You know you want to.

How's the contents of the fridge looking today, 4 days later? Saturday morning, the chicken went in the freezer (although I just pulled it out again for tomorrow's dinner). The strawberries joined us on our journey north. The rest? Most of those once fresh vegetables are still in there untouched.

Our one saving grace is our killer fridge. If you ever need to buy a new refrigerator, get thee an Amana. Our produce stays in perfect condition for longer than you can imagine. Better than a professional kitchen's walk-in refrigerator. Better than N's parents' fancy Sub Zero that cost triple what we paid. I never cease to be amazed.

What's with all this fridge nonsense, Brett? You can thank Sam of Becks & Posh. She's the Lady Godiva who started all this nonsense. Go peep at her fridge now, Tom. And Cookiecrumb's. And Sean's, Jen's, Marin Catherine's, San Francisco Catherine's, Dr. Biggles' ... the list goes on.

Fridge voyeurism. It's the new "cheese sandwich."

I gotta run. I have a lot of veggies to cook and eat before our next basket comes. Tomorrow.

Saturday, May 05, 2007

A Taste of Yellow: Mariquita's carrots

Yellow carrots 2

I feel a special bond to Barbara, the writer behind the blog Winos and Foodies, even though we've never met. Barbara lives in New Zealand. I live in San Francisco. I am positive that if we do some day meet, we'll get along famously. Why? We have one rather random thing in common.

When each of us started our food blogs back in 2005 (she in January, me in June), we both wrote about our trips the previous year to the Iberian peninsula (Spain and Portugal for her, just Spain for me). In the first posts of our respective blogs, we each described a significant meal that featured the same special product. Yes, you guessed it. We both wrote about sardines! What are the chances of that? For that reason alone Barbara and I share a special kinship.

My meal of sardinas a la plancha in Seville completely changed the way I looked at cooking, so much so that I named my blog after the occasion. For Barbara, sardines represented something else entirely. The grilled sardines Barbara ate in Portugal were her last memorable meal before receiving news that forever changed her life. In the middle of her holiday, not long after she had completed a 500 mile (800 kilometer) walk along Spain's Camino de Santiago, Barbara checked into a Portuguese hospital and discovered she had cancer. Read about it in her moving first post.

Recently, after several years of improvement, Barbara received news that her cancer has returned. Barbara's friends and supporters throughout the food blogging community wish for one thing. Some day we all hope Barbara will make a complete recovery.

Supportinglaf_2c This year, to raise awareness of the issues associated with cancer survivorship, Barbara created an event she's calling "A Taste of Yellow." She made a simple request: bake or cook something yellow, the color of the famous LIVESTRONG wristbands. Her event provides us food bloggers with a small way to take part in LIVESTRONG Day.

LIVESTRONG Day is the Lance Armstrong Foundation's grassroots advocacy initiative to unify people affected by cancer and to raise awareness about cancer survivorship issues on a national level and in local communities across the United States. LIVESTRONG Day 2007 will occur on Wednesday, May 16, 2007.

If you wish to make a donation to the Lance Armstrong Foundation, please visit the foundation's donation page.

When I picked up this week's CSA basket from Mariquita Farm, I knew in an instant I wanted to make something from the farm's sweet yellow carrots (pictured above) for "A Taste of Yellow." I also wanted to somehow pay homage to that significant meal of sardines that bound Barbara and me together. Unfortunately I couldn't find fresh sardines. Instead I chose another local fish, petrale sole. I decided I would cook the sole a la plancha (in a cast iron pan), the same way as the sardines I ate in Spain. Cooking fish quickly in a searing hot cast iron skillet gives it a delicate crisp (and golden yellow) crust. To provide a textural contrast, I decided to simply whiz the yellow carrots with slowly cooked onions and coriander leaves (cilantro) in a blender to create a silky smooth purée.

To complete the petrale sole dish, I stewed some artichokes and blanched some peas to scatter over the top. Then I whipped up a spicy olive oil-based sauce with finely chopped mint, coriander leaves (cilantro), garlic, ginger, and chilies. The whole dish was spring on a plate, the kind of food I'll surely serve this time next year at Olallie. In the picture below, you can barely see the carrot purée peaking out from under the sole. N loved the dish.

Petrale sole with spring peas, artichokes, carrot puree, and coriander-mint sauce

Continue reading "A Taste of Yellow: Mariquita's carrots" »

sardines defined

  • sar·dine (n) 1. a young herring or similar small fish. 2. a metaphor for the small and often less well-known ingredients, restaurants, farmers, and artisans that San Francisco-based chef Brett Emerson writes about in this website.
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