Food Profile: Crab Cakes

If there is one thing my family knows well, it’s crab. From as long as I can remember, and much before I was born, crab has been a staple of the families, weather that be at Thanksgiving dinner or a potluck, crab was on the menu. My father is a crabber and my mother a crab broker, or in other words, my father catches it and my mom sells it to restaurants and stores. There are pictures of me in diapers sitting on my father’s boat as he reels in crab pots, just as there are pictures of my dad in diapers witching his father. Crab is truly something that has been in the family for generations.

Now much like any crustacean, crab is something that can be prepared in many different ways. It can be eaten raw, boiled and eaten out of the shell, mixed with almost any salad or pasta, the list goes on and on. But none of those compare to the crab cake, and more specifically, my mother’s crab cake. Her recipe, like many great recipes, was once written down on a piece of scratch paper, and has been rewritten several times due to gobs of this and that. Through time the recipe has evolved, and although slightly different than the original, is twice as good. The ingredients are not measured with instruments as they are with taste, and so no two batches are exactly the same.

Originally, the crab cake was something that was invented by English settlers due to the economy. Crab was expensive (although not much has changed there) and people wanted a way to stretch the key ingredient. They mashed the meat and combine it with fillers to make little cakes that would go further than just eating the meat on its own. The meal was so popular though, that is stuck, and soon crab cakes grew from being a way to make the meat last, to using as much meat as possible in higher end restaurants.

The majority of people I have spoken to say they have tried crab cakes at one point or another. After surveying a few dozen people I realized something, crab cakes are something that are either served at a fish-n-chips sort of place, or they’re served along side a pricy salad at a fancy restaurant. As it turns out, crab cakes are a dish that adapt to their surroundings. Although quite different in taste, crab cakes can be consumed on almost any budget. This is primarily because crab has such a great variety. The crab that I have grown up eating is Dungeness, a local crab that is considered sweeter than other crabs. The Dungeness crab that my family has always caught and sold is wild, and delivered within hours of its catch. I’ve never eaten cab at home that wasn’t less then a few days out of water, and if you were to eat at any of the restaurants they sell to, neither have you. Because of the high quality of crab meat, and the freshness, and crab cake at a fancy place will run you about eighteen bucks. This is much different than the crab cakes at the fish-n-chips place, where a crab cake will run you five bucks. This crab is not fresh, in fact, it’s probably not even crab. Most likely it’s “krab”, which is a combination of Pollock (a bottom-feeder found most prominently in the Bering Sea) and other white fish. It’s essentially the same imitation crabmeat which most California rolls at a sushi place is. But, if it genuine crab which they are using, there’s a good chance it’s Snow crab from China, which again, has been frozen and shipped. What is really comes down to is the quality of product dictating the type of crab cake.

The first time I tried a crab cake, which was not my mother’s, was at a fish-n-chips place called the Shrimp Shack in Bellingham. The only real reason I even tried it was because it was made from crab that my mother had sold to them, (the same crab that she makes her crab cakes out of) and was being sold quite inexpensively. Needless to say, I thought they were OK, but couldn’t believe they were using such expensive crabmeat to make them. Ironically, they finally figured it out too, and no longer make their crab cakes out of fresh Dungeness crab, but frozen Snow crab, and as you can imagine, they aren’t nearly as good, but they turn a greater profit.


So as it turns out, from a very young age, I have been exposed to a gourmet meal, without ever realizing it. At first, when coming to that realization, I felt a bit snobbish, and naive even. But in reality, my family never had much money, and so we used what we had, which was crab. In fact, when I was really young, we didn’t have heating in our house, but we had gourmet crab cakes. What it comes down to is what we grow up with becomes so normal, that it’s hard for us to see otherwise. Just as a mechanics daughter never has to pay to get her car fixed, a crabbers daughter never had to pay for good crab cakes.


I believe food is made to be shared, and so, this recipe makes about 50 crab cakes. Also, you can image how important I feel the crab is to the recipe so please use fresh Dungeness. This recipe make crab cakes that are about 80% crab.
Mom’s Crab Cake Recipe

- 5 lbs Fresh Dungeness Crab – shucked
- 3 Whole Eggs
- 2 Cups Olive Oil
- 2 Red Bell Peppers
- 2 oz. Fresh Basil
- 1/4 C Parsley
- 1/4 C Green Onions
- 1/4 C Lemon Juice
- 1/8 C Vinegar (red or white)
- 1 Tablespoon Paprika
- 1 Teaspoon salt
- Pepper to taste
- Bread crumbs/panko

- In processor whip eggs for 2 minutes. Add oil in slow steady stream until thickened.

- Transfer into mixing bowl

- In processor, combine and mix peppers, basil, parsley, green onions, paprika, salt and pepper

- Add contents of processor to mixing bowl of eggs and oil and stir

- Stir in lemon juice and vinegar

- Add bread crumbs/panko and crab meat to desired consistency

- Cook on low heat (flipping) on the stove until browned on both sides

Behind the Scenes

A few days ago I went to bottle the beer which I had brewed at Gallagher's Brewing up in Edmonds. The brewing process, which takes a few hours, I had done a few weeks before as the beer takes a few weeks to ferment. As a devotee to fine beers, I was excited to see what goes into the brewing process. Little did I know it was so intensive. There are many steps which have to preformed just right in order to create a beer that is drinkable. It starts with the wheat, which has to be just the right amount added at just the right time, and following is the malt and hops, which also need to be just right. And then of course there's the yeast, which without there would be no beer. Every ingredient was necessary at every precise time to produce what you were shooting for, or in other words, there was no "winging it".

There was something to be said though, after it was all bottled and I was sipping on something I had created for going out on a limb and trying to create something which I had no prior knowledge of. The same I think goes for the pizza bake on Thursday. Although I had to leave early, and didn't actually get to try the pizza, seeing what goes into a wood fire oven was worth the work. It started with the fire, and really for as long as I was there, it ended with the fire. Getting that fire started turned out to be a bigger ordeal than I thought it would be. You have to start with the newspaper, and then kindling, slowly working up to bigger and bigger pieces of wood until the fire is hot enough to actually cook something. Then of course you have to make sure the fire doesn't collapse on itself, which turned out to be a bigger issue than anyone saw coming. All in all though I was happy to help and I now have a new found respect for wood fire bakers.

I believe everyone at one point should go see how its done. Weather that be a pizza bake or a brewery, there's a lot more that goes into crating the things that we love to consume than most people think, and there's a lot of respect to give to those who create them.

Home Dumpster Diving

A few days ago while raiding for my kitchen for something to eat, I stumbled upon some almost rotten bananas which I had forgotten about. My fist instinct, (which I'm not proud of ) was to toss them and forget I ever had them. Right as they were headed for dumpster doom however, I thought back to class, and the discussions we've been having about wasting food. Holding two mushy bananas in my hand I realized they could amount to much more than just garbage. Hunting through my cabinet I found enough ingredients to make banana bread. It was then I realized, in the two years I have lived in the same house, I'd thrown out countless bananas that have gone bad, and all the time had all the ingredients necessary for making banana bread. Slightly appalled at myself, I became more determined then ever to create a meal out of what I could find around my kitchen. A few hours later the house smelled like banana bread and I was quite proud of myself, I had made something out of nothing, food from the dumpster.

My banana bread creation got me thinking, how many times had a similar situation occurred and I had simply decided to go out to eat, or but something new. I started to realize that although I'm a student, and try to budget myself accordingly, I don't always eat like one. I constantly toss out old vegetables, which I feel are no longer fresh enough. It was then I decided, that I in order to actually make change, I was going to have to start living differently. I've rallied my roommates and we now make an effort to not only eat what is on its way out, but to share what we would normally let sit as leftovers in the fridge until moldy. We have started making meals with what we have, instead of buying new ingredients. I've found that by combining our odds and ends we not only do our part in not overly tossing, but it creates a family-like feel to our otherwise separated household. Cooking is an activity after all which brings people together.

Would you like some nutrition with your salt?

At some point, each one of us has turned around a bottle or can of diet coke and thought, "I wonder how something could have no calories, no fat, no carbohydrates, no sugar, and still taste good". I'm sure these thoughts resonated in our minds for a few moments before we shrugged, and tilted back the can to partake in the calorie free, sodium filled nectar.

The Experience of drinking diet coke is one which is very different from most refreshments. The funny thing is, not many of us stop to actually analyze what exactly it is that so addicting about the beverage. I personally indulge in a diet coke every now and then, and always find it quite pleasing. Yet, it wasn't until a few weeks ago in class that I really stopped to analyze, and answer the question; why are we addicted to diet coke?

As I sipped the the diet coke, I had mixed feelings, but only because we were just analyzing as a class just how bad diet coke really is for you. On any other day, I would have slipped on the blissful beverage with glee and not thought twice about it. But on this particular afternoon I began to analyze what exactly it was that made diet coke so delicious to me. I believe it begins with the carbonation, it fizzes on your tongue and down your throat with a chemical burn you just can't get from juice. This fizziness almost opens your taste-buds and sends a shock to its system, immediately wanting more. 

But then there's the debate on how to drink it. Personally, I like it out of the can with a straw, I think there's something about the aluminum which is so enticing. Others prefer lots of ice, which I feel waters it down and lessens the flavor. Either way, diet coke contains the sensory satisfaction which is  the combination of salty and sweet which covers your tongues every desire, and makes it so addicting. 

Independent Eating

Lets set a scene;

You're at a party with a buffet which looks amazing, meats, cheeses, fruits, and above all you're starving. You could dive on the table and swim in the food you're so excited, but there's one problem, no one else has touched it, or is even near it for that matter. You are torn between filling you belly and feeling awkward as the lone sole at the buffet. Finally, you find someone who is also hungary, eyeing the buffet in awe. You two decide to concur the buffet together, for together you are not alone, you have a partner, and half as many eyes watching you. Of course, once the food has been touched, others feel it is safe and slowly people mingle their way towards the food, to join you in your fully belly.

If this has never happened to you, and you're always the lone buffet approacher I applaud you. For most people, being the only one eating is awkward and embarrassing, and they would rather starve then eat by them selves. The same goes for ordering food, I have found myself to want to wait for the other person's food to arrive before digging in not just out of manners, but because I don't like to be the only one eating. So I pose the question then, why is it hard for people to eat alone?

When I stop and think about it, the only times I eat alone are when I am alone. If I'm hungary and want to go out to eat, I usually get it to go, rather than sit in the restaurant alone. Although I'm sure this reasoning varies from case to case, I realized I don't like eating alone in public because I feel as though others are watching me. This is not to say people aren't watching me when I'm with someone else, but again, you're sharing the amount of eyes that could be watching.

Then of course there's the dilemma of being with someone, but being the only one eating. This bothers me even more because I'm sure they're watching me, they're sitting right across from me. Suddenly I find myself wondering, do I have food on my face? Am I eating really loud? Am I not talking enough because I'm busy chewing? And suddenly I feel a sense of urgency and want to finish my meal so I might engage in the conversation better.

Again, these are only my experiences and I'm sure plenty of people are perfectly content with eating alone, but I must finally point out then when someone comes into the restaurant which I work at alone, they eat faster than anyone else there and I frequently see them looking around... so who's to say.

*What's in a name?

When the quarter first started I was looking over the syllabus, getting a feel for the class when I cam upon week 6, collard greens week. I honestly have no idea what collard greens are, but immediately I didn't like the sound of them. There was something about the name that didn’t settle with me right. I tried to place weather I had eaten the dish before and just didn't remember, maybe I had hated it as a child and the memories were coming back. Maybe I had eaten it and simply didn't know what it was at the time. As much as I racked my brain however, I couldn't come up with a reason, it simply just didn't sound good.

Weeks later, Ann brought up the food in class, and we began discussing its origins. Collard greens had been a food of slaves, and therefore, a food that was looked down upon during the time of slavery. Now I will stop here to say that I am not a bit racist and immediately felt guilty for my sour feelings toward collard greens. I couldn't believe I had had the initial unpleasant reaction, without knowing a thing about the food, and yet hadn't stopped to further examine why past my own lack of experience with the food. Appalled by my reaction, I slipped into an uncomfortable state, feeling shame for my guttural feeling but also curious. Why had I felt this reaction? Why when presented with a food that I thought I had no connection with or knowledge of had I reacted to negatively? It was then that the class discussion turned to "food taboos", and I soon realized my gut reaction was one which had been unconsciously engraved it me, probably from a young age.

This "slave food" came about because slaves weren't given a large variety of food in which to choose from. Due to these circumstances, collard greens became a staple. The poor collard green, (which really was innocent if you think about it) became labeled as unworthy, a food of a lower class, dirty even. Funny to think that if collared greens had been popular amongst slave owners, the taboo would have never come about. Imagine if mashed potatoes had been slave food, then how would we react to it?

I suspect I'm not the only one who had this reaction, but it was so unconscious I couldn't find it's origins so save my life. It makes me wonder what other food taboos I have lurking, waiting to spring out and make me feel guilty again. As much as I dread that happening though, I also look forward to it, because I believe you learn something about yourself. I learned that my pre-conceived notion was not made up and actually held a deep cultural meaning, which I was completely unaware of.

*An Identification with a Love of Food

When I first read the prompt to write about a food I "identify with", I was a bit puzzled. I began thinking about the possible connections I could draw upon between culture, race, family etc, and the food that I consume. I began with race. As someone of mixed backgrounds, I have never fully identified with one food group. I cold have an English breakfast, Irish lunch, Native American snack, Mexican dinner and French dessert and still not have eaten from every background.

I suppose though, having an aunt who makes the best Menudo you will ever have, makes it easy for me to identify with Mexican cuisine, specifically my aunts Menudo. In fact, the Menudo recipe is one that I have wanted to get for her from sometime. Just writing about it makes me crave it. It is by any definition, the ultimate Mexican hang-over-cure soup. Being a festive bunch that my family is, the soup is typically prepared for the next morning, and there isn't a single person who passes it up. Menudo not only acts as a cultural identity, but as a family one as well.

But then, there's the Caesar salad my mom makes. That’s a whole other story. The Caesar dressing my mom makes has so much garlic in it you're mouth will burn. But that won't stop you, because it is so good it’s worth the burn, and the smell. The recipe, which I believe originated from a cook she once knew in San Francisco, has taken on my mother's love of antioxidants and hence the large amount of garlic. Like any good mom, she used to be concerned with me going out to parties in high school, and would make Caesar salad before I left, which of course I couldn't resists, and so of course I would reek of garlic all night. Nonetheless, the Caesar salad is a necessity whenever I come home. So it would be easy to say then I suppose, that I identify myself with Caesar salad, but not just any, I identify myself with the tongue-burning, reeking of garlic Caesar salad which my mom makes.

So it would seem that although my food identifications can be traced to linage, they are primarily an identification with the love the food is associated with. In a city where food from around the world is available at your finger tips, you would think something as simple as Caesar salad would be any easy craving to meet, but let me tell you, finding something as good as mom's is impossible. And although I know most Mexican places serve Menudo on Saturday mornings, its resemblance to my Aunts would be all but disappointing. It is this love of food, and love of sharing food with loved ones, which I identify with.

*Learned Morals

If it is not yours, don't take it. A value that we learned as children, but apparently we forget, as we grow older. The simple morals that we are repeatedly taught as a child seem to fade, and morph with age, and instead of abiding by these morals, we find ways to re-word them, to re-adjust them, and eventually recreate them.

What baffles me the most though, is the people who are in charge of it all. I honestly want to know how an intelligent (although I suppose that could be debated) human being could feel good about knowingly ignoring human moral values. I do not understand how someone could have so much greed that even though they know they are hurting many people, could keep on going. And not only do they keep on going, but they justify themselves. The saddest part is, it's almost always for money.

There are so many examples of this, it's actually quite sad. From Native Americans being kicked off their land to Americans who are sick but cannot afford to go see a doctor. And of course, the farmers who are being forced to kneel to corporate takeover and burn seeds which have been harvested for decades. I really just want to know, who are these people? Who is it that makes a decision to sue a honest farmer and take him for all he's got? Who is it that runs these corporations and feels good about is able to sleep at night? And for what? Well let’s see, there’s the big house, the fancy car and all the toys that money can buy you. All of these things which we surround ourselves with to make us "happy". It is in my experience that the happiest people I have met are not millionaires. They do not have multiple cars and giant homes, they are happy with a lifestyle that does not need these things to be complete. It is these people who give me hope. Everyday I hear about another scandal, another big company taking over, another person loosing everything in the fight for what is right. I can't help but ask myself, when will there be an end? When will we start caring about each other, the other lives on this planet, instead of trying to exploit them?

The Joy of Cooking

It's funny how a meal which comes out of a frozen container can still fell homemade. You don't mix ingredients, and the preparation usually goes no further then to turn on the oven, but when the meal is ready, and you sit down to eat, it can be mistake for something that took all day to make. With chefs getting better and better at pre-preparing food to be frozen, meals that take 15 minutes on the stovetop can easily replace an hours work why you're too busy to cook. I can't help but have mixed feelings about these pre-made meals. On one hand, I can understand why they are so handy, especially the good ones which taste nothing like frozen food. I myself have eaten "Bertoli" frozen pasta dinners many times, and honestly, I love them! In fact, I've paid $15 at an Italian restaurant for just about the same thing. I know it sounds cliche, but they really are just as good as going out and paying twice and three times as much. Health wise, they aren't the healthiest choice, but then again most creamy Italian dishes aren't, no matter where you're getting them. The truth is, when I have been at school all day, I have a ton of homework to do, and am starving, emptying a bag of frozen pasta into a pan for 15 minutes doesn't sound half bad. Combine that with a pre-made bagged salad and I'm happier then a kid on Christmas.
On the other hand, I really do enjoy to cook, and I believe food made with love really does just taste better. Then again, I tried to make a white wine sauce for something the other night which turned out watery and dull, but hey, you win some you lose some. It seems to me that the love for cooking as vanished in many people due to time restraints. The only times I do attempt to cook are on a weekend when avoiding my homework is doable. When more and more opportunities arising to be able to grab something on the go I question weather that is as great as it sounds. With that option at hand, I wonder if people are more inclined to go the quick and easy route just because it's just that, quick and easy. Do people who one loved to cook now resorting to frozen dinners out of connivance? I hope the answer is no, and it's just a once in a while thing, when their schedule is too cramped. I hope people are able to make time, and to enjoy cooking for the process, not just the end result. I hope we have not lost the "Joy of Cooking".

*Comfort Zones

After watching the file Tampopo, and reflecting on my own food behaviors, I realized that comfort zones are very prevalent in food. Have you ever found yourself at a favorite restaurant and ordering the same thing you always do? "Well I love it!" you might respond, and granted, that is probably true. But have you ever tried anything else on the menu? Most people would probably respond "no". It is our nature to hold onto what we like, and live inside this comfort zone that we have created around us. I am by no means trying to criticize, as I do to a wonderful Cuban sandwich place quite often and have the same sandwich every time, and every time I swear I'm going to try something different, but then resort back to my "old favorite". Even calling it my "favorite" is incorrect because I have never tried anything else there, and who knows, I might have several favorites if I branched out.

Some restaurants, which serve foreign food, will also have something on their menu which is not by any means traditional, but that they know is in this comfort zone. For example, in many Mexican restaurants, they offer cheeseburgers. I'm sure there's no kidding anyone that cheese burgers are from Mexico, but there are a few people, (a friend of mine being one of them), who will scan the menu of unfamiliar food, and choose the cheese burger, in all its comforting glory.

I believe we subside to these comfort boundaries because we are creatures of habit, and to break those bounds could mean a number of different bad outcomes. We could have hated what we tried, and then have wasted a meal on something not only unsatisfying, but regret not just sticking to what we know. "Oh, why didn't I just get what I always get, I know that would of been good."

There is something to be said though, for breaking the food comfort zones, and branching out to try something new and unfamiliar. I believe much of this happens traveling, although living in a country where we have food from all around the world at out finger tips, it can easily be done close to home as well. When I traveled in Turkey, a lot of what I ate was either ordered for me, or I pointed to a word I thought sounded nice. Had it all been in English, and each ingredient spelled out, I might not have been so open to trying as much as I did. But I had already left my comfort zone, and so my guard was down. You could of shoved just about anything in front of me, and as long of it wasn't staring back at me, I would of eaten it.

I have decided then, that I will go to the Cuban sandwich place this week, and I will order something different. I will not climb back into my comfort zone, but I will break free, and take a risk...

Ave Bentos

When first learning that we were going to construct bentos as a class , I pictured the only "bento" which I had ever had, which was on the ave. The bentos there are not only incredibly unhealthy comparatively, but they are  huge.  The food is of a much greater proportion that a traditional bento box, almost to the point of not being able to finish them, which is quite ironic now knowing the tradition in Japanese culture of being required to finish everything in your bento. The benos which I have had, usually consist of rice, chicken teriyaki, small sushi rolls, and gyoza. When you're done eating a bento from the ave, you're typically full for the rest of the day. When I ate the bento which we made in class, I was hungary almost immediately. 

The flavors of the ave bentos are also dramatically different than those of the traditional ones. Everything in the ave bentos seems to be coated in either salt and sugar, to appeal to the american pallet. This theme is one which I have realized carries over to many American takes on foreign cuisine. You won't find a chalupa in mexico. Thinking about this, I wonder why we feel the need to recreate traditional food which is already good. Rarely do you hear someone eat out and say "it's just as good as the real thing". Typically, you hear, "it was good, but the traditional version is better". A friend of mine recently traveled in Italy and came back ranting and raving about the food there, saying it was better than anything she had ever tasted. Sense then, I have yet to hear of her rant of Italian food in the states, and even from places which claim to be 100% authentic. I think what it comes down to is unless there's an old woman with family recipes in the back, and ingredients that were grown around the corner, it really just doesn't have the same effect. 

I experience this phenomena quite frequently as I work as a server in an Afghan restaurant. The food, which by what I hear is traditional, is also modified for the American diet. The owner, who grew up in Kabul, has told us that he's had to change a few things in order to please the masses. One example of this a rice dish called Palaw, which is traditionally studded into a pig, and then cooked. This technique however probably not only violates health codes, but is probably not appealing to many Americans. Then again, we eat stuffing which as been shoved up the rear of a turkey, so you never know. 

*Trade you carrots for cookies?

Lunchtime, a vital and exciting time in every child's school day, or for that matter, a vital time in anyone’s day. Of all the years of lunchtime though, it's elementary school that sticks out most in my memory. My mom would pack my lunch everyday, and everyday I would eat just about the same thing. There was the peanut butter and jelly sandwich, always on wheat bread, with Adam's peanut butter and no added-sugar jelly. There was a sugar free apple juice, carrot sticks and Fignewtons. I would sit at the lunch tables and gaze at the other children with the Wonder bread sandwiches, Capri-suns and cookies and drool. How I envied those kids, with their processed sugars and food colorings. All I had to look forward to was a lousy Fignewton, which doesn't even count as a cookie in my mind. I would beg my mom for food like the other kids, but she just wouldn't budge. Nothing processed would enter my mouth for as long as I lived if she had anything to do with it.
And so, the challenge lay before me to do a little deal making. I offered up Fignewtons for cookies and surprisingly got some kids to partake in the trade, but only because they had never seen these strange things before and wanted to try it. After that though, that deal was shot and nobody wanted to trade. Carrots of course, were always a failure, trading those all you would get was celery, which was equally as lame in my mind. With the exception of "ants on a log", those were all right, as most things slathered in peanut butter are.
Looking back though, what I saw as my mother’s crude and unfair lunch packing, was actually an act of love. She wanted me to be healthy, and didn't want to create eating habits in me that would carry over to adult hood. Come to think of it, I ate better than just about any kid I knew, although at the time I thought it was the other way around. While I was overwhelmingly jealous of the kids with Lunchables, I later realized that not only are those horrible for you, but there really is no love it creating them. You don't take the time to cut little cheese and meat slices and portion them out, you simply run to the store and grab the thing. When I now picture my mom chopping apples or carrots into small pieces, cutting the crusts of my sandwiches, and writing my name on the brown paper bag with a big heart around it, I see the love that was crafted into the lunches, that I complained so much about. This is not to say that the Lunchable moms didn't care about their children, but I definitely thing the time put into making a meal holds significance.
If I look at my fridge and cupboard today, I would have to say my mom would be proud. The cereal is sugar free, the milk is soy, the bread is whole wheat and the peanut butter is Adam's. I'm living proof that the habits you learn when you're little carries over to adulthood. On a side note, my roommate, who was the Lunchables kid in elementary school, only recently starting eating wheat bread and Adam's peanut-butter, when she moved in with me.

The Sharing of Food

I have always thought that food brings people together, I had just never thought to stop and think why. In fact, when I stop and think about it, I rarely cook just for myself, and if I do, I end up sharing it with someone. Leftovers are not popular with me, as nothing is as good as when its fresh out of the oven. That's one good thing about having three roommates, there's always somebody wanting a bite, or a meal. 

Cooking too, is something I find is much more satisfying with someone else. I sometimes find myself starving after work and not wanting to eat until my boyfriend gets home and we can make something together. The idea of not wanting to "waste a meal" on something lame like a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, or cold pizza always crosses my mind. And so, most times, I wait it out and we make a small feast together. The preparing for cooking is a ritual which I love as well. Pulling all of the ingredients out, chopping and mixing, snacking along the way, and of course, accompanied by a glass of wine. Finally when the meal is starting to come together, and the aroma begins to seep into the living room, heads start poking in with curiosity. Then the meal is ready and the best part comes, time to eat. The long awaited food is always better, in my mind, then that quick snack, and typically keeps you full for a lot longer too. 

This sharing though, between two people, although satisfying, is much different then the satisfaction of cooking for/with a big group, and having many people try your creation. As I come from a seafood business family, most the recipes I know include either crab, shrimp, oysters, or salmon. I love preparing any of these for friends because although seafood is common in the northwest, most people have only had it in nice restaurants, and is in the category of grommet. For me, I've grown up around it, and its as common as broccoli. 

The easiest recipe, which I love to make for people is oysters on the bar-b-q. When I first bring out the creatures I find people look a bit timid, and aren't sure if they want to try it. Most people have only had them on the half shell, which is much different then on the bar-b-q. Soon though, I mixing the sauce and throwing them on the grill and people's interests are grabbed. As soon as the oysters pop open and I poor my buttery concoction on top, the smell is rich and people finally start to believe me that maybe it won't be that bad after all. Finally they're ready, and served, and I can't tell you how fast they go. In fact a lot of times I have to hide a few on the side for myself just to get any. But it doesn't matter to me, I'm cookin' up something that everyone loves and for a while at least, am treated like a master chef.

THE RECIPE:

This recipe, oysters on the bar-b-q is probably one the simplest recipes out there. So easy, yet so wonderful, everyone will think you're a master chef...

WHAT YOU'LL NEED:

OYSTERS: I would recommend getting more than you think you'll want, because there's a lot less meat inside the shell than it appears. One person can easily eat half a dozen, if not more, and they're typically pretty inexpensive, so I would recommend about 2 dozen for 3 people, or somewhere in there. I also would recommend, if its available, to get them from a farmer, and not a grocery store. Although they are harder to find, they're fresher and really just taste better. 

TOPPING:

butter

olive-oil

lots of garlic

parmesan cheese

Step 1: Throw the oysters on the grill (medium heat) and let them hang out there for a bit, usually about 10 minutes, or until they pop open.

Step 2: While the oysters are on the grill, mix the butter, olive-oil and garlic.

Step 3: When the oysters pop open, use a shucker if you have one, or if not, a butter knife, and pry the top of the shell off, careful it'll be hot, so use a towel or something.

Step 4: Slather them in your sauce, the more the merrier!

Step 5: Add the grated parmesan cheese and let it melt for a few minutes

Enjoy!

Gardens and Farms

After the trip today the UW farms, I realize I might have actually grown up on one, or a small one at least. When I was young my mother had an extensive garden which inhabited all sorts of fruits and vegetables. There were apples and berries, lettuce, tomatoes, carrots, rhubarb, and much more which has long left my immediate memory as I was just a child. I do however, remember a few things. My "bed" was the carrots, and for the longest time I referred to the carrots as a "bed" not because I thought it was the proper name, but because it was about the same size of mine, and in my mind the carrots had a bed just as I did. The carrots, were one of my favorite to pick because unlike a berry, or an apple, you didn't know what you were going to get until it was plucked from the earth. I of course, did not like the idea of patients as a child and was always eager to pull the carrots long before they were ready. I can remember pulling out a carrot and in my imagination it would be be about a foot long and plump, only to reveal a 4 inch carrot which could of used a few more weeks. My mother was never too fond of me pulling the carrots out so early, but she never got mad, and let me pick about a dozen 4 inch carrots before telling me it was enough for now. Bigger ones came eventually, but I have high suspicion it was because she had another bed of them somewhere...

Free Write: Potatoes for dinner... again.

It has been in my experience in traveling that no matter where you go, no matter how lost you are, finding the local cuisine can always lend comfort. It is the act of eating, of fulfilling ones belly, which is a universal love. Even if the cuisine isn't the most expensive, the most sought after, or the took the most time to prepare, people unite around the table and share in food.

It was in my travels to Peru that I realized this comfort food was potatoes. Peru has something like 2 million different types of potatoes, of all different shapes and size, and so you no doubt get them at every meal. As I was staying with a host family, I never actually cooked the potatoes, so I can't say I am a master potato preparer, but I do think I have tried a wide variety. The family I was staying a with in peru, made us dinner 5 nights a week, and being on a budget, potatoes were a main staple of every meal, much like it was in the rest of the country. After a few weeks, while part of me groaned when I saw potatoes cooking in the kitchen, I now see potatoes in a new light. Eating them at least twice a day for a month engraved a taste for potatoes which is now brought forth every time I eat them. When I sit down to thanksgiving dinner, the potatoes hold new meaning to me. 

As there are 2 million potatoes in Peru, there are least a million more ways to prepare them. And sure enough, the family I was staying with tried a good many of them out on us. With each new meal came a new potato in a new form, mashed, whole, diced, baked, you name it. I found it encouraging that a family with little budget could take something as mundane as a potato, and make it new and interesting to please their guests night after night. Maybe next thanksgiving, I'll find a new way to prepare the potatoes, and share my new love with the entire dinner table.