Carrot Top

This has turned out to be even more fascinating than I imagined, with more answers given in differing categories than I would have supposed! Nineteen answers so far, and here's how it breaks down: Lack of time. . .2 Lack of pleasure in cooking. . .3 Laziness. . .1 Mass media brainwashing/advertising. . .3 Lack of interest in "being a gourmet". . .2 Love. . .1 Lack of cooking skills. . . 1 Convenience. . .2 Fear of "bugs". . .1 Retro fun. . .1 Familiarity. . .1 Ah, the human race. And the human race most particularly on eGullet! The original post was meant to address people who ate only and solely convenience foods, but I did not phrase it well enough to make that clear. . but so what. That's a far reach, usually, to be form fitted into one type. My own reason, the main one that stands out in memory in the times I've fallen deeply into the use of convenience foods, is. . .well this sounds extreme but it is true on a deeper level than the superficial. . .has been despair. Food is always endowed with emotive qualities in my mind, so it is not that unusual, really. I use convenience food when I am too tired to think, too empty emotionally to give. So I will add Despair to the list of reasons. Are there more answers out there? Will there be any sort of heavy weight given to any one answer over another? Tell us more. . .

This thread (along with a recent trip to Florida where I had some great tacos at a taqueria) was really making me hungry for some good simple home foods of the sorts mentioned by everyone. Yesterday I picked up an el-cheapo pork shoulder at the grocery store. And a can of chipotle chilis in adobo. And some sweet potatoes. Total cost about $14. This morning the pork shoulder went into a tightly covered pan, topped with the chilis in adobo. . .and it was placed in the oven at 325 degrees. (Yes, it is hot outside, but it didn't seem to heat the place up too much.) Two hours later the scrubbed sweet potatoes were placed in the oven on the rack. In three and a half hours time, it was done. The pork was shredded with two forks, the sweet potatoes were lightly salted and buttered then topped with a bit of the pork and juices. And you can not imagine how good it tasted! And now, done with this meal that I could not wait to gobble down, I am off to pack up and freeze the seeming ton of shredded yummy pork that will make tacos and whatever else comes to mind for a looooong time ahead. (The juices in the pot will go into the fridge till solid, to remove the fat, then they'll be reduced for a spicy sauce). Almost no work at all, to do all this, really! My mouth and my pocketbook are very happy that you started this thread!

Mmm. When I admired my neighbor's garden the other day, he grumbled that for the $3000. annual taxes that he was paying on that piece of land, they had to be some of the most expensive vegetables in the world! But of course, he has been doing this every year for forty-five years, growing veggies in that lot. . .so there must be something more to it than the money for him. . .

The idea of "stratas" just popped into my mind. Usually served for breakfast, but just as good at any time. A strata is a casserole (or a timbale, if one wants to sound elegant!) of layered bread, beaten eggs, and other savory ingredients such as ham, cheese, veggies of all sorts. . .almost any good combination of tasty odds and ends can be used. Very filling. Comfort food. Very inexpensive.

Sounds like your then-husband might have been one of your worst guests, too, then, in a sense, browniebaker. My sympathies. It happens more than it should.

In asking the question, I did not intend to cast any dispersions upon those who use convenience food, nor did I wish to seemingly bestow any benefits of any sort upon those who do not. It is every bit as interesting to me to ask the question "what is the reason some people like to focus on using fresh foods each day for majority of their meals" but that is a question that, at least to my mind, is more easily sort-outable and more easily understood. This subject seems to arouse some interesting thoughts, and in previous threads I have noticed that it also seems to arouse some strong feelings. So, I am just trying to see what people say and think about it. . .maybe I'll learn something. Maybe it is finally unanswerable in terms of exact "reasons" but it is really fun to see what various people's "takes" on the subject are, and also to see if there is any trend or consistency in what their "takes" are. I'm just feeling chatty, you know. I hope you'll indulge me by giving more and more good answers. . .

There are still some fermented milk curds lounging around on my brain, Maggie. Hope you don't mind my trying to rid myself of them. . .here's another cheesey story. Despatch from the Front It wasn’t all that long ago that this began, but nevertheless I have a sure sense that the end is near. It’s my impassioned hope that this quickly told story will reach your ears, so that someone will know the truth, and remember me, should the worst really happen. The first thing that hit my consciousness was how very dark it was. Impenetrable darkness surrounded me, a darkness that was like nothing I had ever experienced. As my mind tried to grasp what was happening, suddenly I felt that there were others like me near, everywhere in the solid midnight blackness. Yet I could hear nothing. It was just a feeling of being with others that were the same as me, all of us floating in a vague and quiet fearful unknowing. In a quick movement, the pressure began to move us all forward, slowly, from behind us. It began to build. It pushed against the darkness like a wind from the north, tossing us forward, tumbling us together in a gathering force of confusion and panic. All was still quiet, though. There was no way of understanding at all what this was that had reached into the inky reality to throw us haphazardly and fearfully towards an unknown destiny. In the next moment, it seemed like a huge hand had reached to squeeze the air and life from me. For a split second there was a compression of everything I knew, and then an explosion. …………………………………………………………………………………………………………….. Where I had landed I did not know. It was bright, brighter than any sun one could imagine. It was chill as ice. There was still no hint, no clue of what was going on. I could not see. . .the world was a blank to me but for these impressions. Still, it felt as if I was not alone. . .but that there were many others like me very close. A tossing around began again. We were being transported somewhere. With a final sense of dizziness, we were then thrown down a tunnel into a grey cave with corners hard as metal. Something entered the cave, moving among us with a sure intent. It felt like a chemical weapon of some sort. I gasped, and felt myself changing, altering, becoming something completely different than myself. I fought, but to no avail. A firm, solid angry pressure then came down upon me, and now I feel the end is near. Remember me with this tale, please. . .and let others know. I was milk. Now, I fear. . that I will be cheese.

Boxes of cake mix, bags of potato chips. Cartons of frozen fried chicken, bagged saucer shapes of frozen pizza. The endless variety of convenience foods that are consumed by the general public is a neverending parade of ingredients with recipes created in food labs to be made in factories for mass consumption. What do you think the attraction is, for those people who use convenience foods to the extent that they are the mainstay of their diets? Is it lack of education in the ways of cookery or food? Is it lack of time? Lack of money or some sort of thinking process that has to do with money? An attraction to the way they taste? Lack of interest in food at all? Or some sort of more ethereal thing? What do you think the main reason is. . among people who love and use convenience foods on a daily basis, for their doing so? I am curious to see what everyone thinks. Can it be sorted out at all or is it just a hash of all-sorts-of-reasons. . .

Oh, I do remember one more! It was summer and we had been having a simple barbecue outside near the pool. The children were young, and many of their friends were over. . .most of the food had been eaten, but there was a package of hot dogs left in the cooler that was sitting next to the grill. I heard a noise from the roof of the house, and there was one of my (now ex) husbands friends. He was standing on the roof, having climbed out through one of the bedroom windows. Whether he was drunk or stoned or just crazy, I really don't know, but there he was with the hot dogs in his hands which he proceeded to throw down into the pool with loud hoots of excitement. (The pool was fairly close to the house and he was on the roof of the garage). After finishing up his game of "throw the hot dog" he decided to show how strong and thrilling he was to the rest of us, by jumping off the roof into the pool himself. Nobody in his or her right mind would have called that jump a safe or sane thing to do. Luckily, he did make it into the pool, in the middle of his happy hot dogs. He actually tried to do it again, but I stopped him as he was climbing out the bedroom window and somehow persuaded him that it was not a great idea. (In the meantime, as the children had seen him enact this feat, they were all clamoring to try it! ) I should have made him eat the hot dogs raw from the pool, don'tcha think? Uh. . .yeah, he was definitely not invited again. . . Amazing how one forgets these stories till prompted.

The whole scene was rather surreal from the start. When I ran into the room, there were five men staring down at this guy, who was splayed out on the floor in an odd position. They all seemed to be frozen in time and place, and because of the high level of manners that the business lunch had been running on, it really seemed as if they had frozen into some sort of overdone tableau of politeness. I've never been in that position before. . .one of finding someone expiring on the floor. . . but since then have thought of how odd it was. . .the waitress that was doing CPR on him with me was also shaken by the formal stillness of the men. . .but I think it was shock. They simply did not know what to do so they froze. And it just so happened that my behind was stuck up in the air towards them, so in their frozen state of shock, they transferred their eyes to it. I don't think they did it out of any real urge to peek. . .they were all so terribly mannerly, and seemingly just could not move. Knowing all that didn't make me feel any less the fool, though!

Hmmm. Y'all are making it sound sort of sexy, now. marlene, when I read you on food I feel totally whooshed away by romance. Amazing! *Deborah*. . .this "California Chicken Salad" is diced chicken, avocado chunks, red onion slivers, ripe tomato cubes, alfalfa sprouts (and bacon and cheese diced, too, sometimes) tossed in a light vinaigrette, sometimes with julienned romaine added. I think they named it this so that Easterners would always be reminded of how the avocados would be ripe and not hard, and the tomatoes tasty and not golf-ballish, year-round in the state of California! Sigh.

There is something about chicken sandwiches that make me yawn. Of course, around here, it is my own fault. Out of laziness and out of the desire to make something that the children will eat without requiring a sales pitch first, there are only several sorts ever made. Chicken Club. . .(yawn). . .California Chicken Salad in a Pita. . .(ZZzzzzz). . .and finally sometimes I fall into the doldrums of Chicken-Walnut Salad. Nothing wrong with any of these, really. But still there remains in my mind an attitude of boredom and sleepiness when I think of chicken sandwiches. I wonder if anyone here makes a chicken sandwich that can make me change my mind. An exciting chicken sandwich. . .!?

Ouch. You both have had some doozies! My worst "dinner guest" experience happened at lunchtime. . .in the corporate dining rooms that I was in charge of. . . Table of six, in the middle of the usual politesse by all, one of the old fellows (partner of the law firm people who were visiting) had a massive heart attack and fell right off his chair onto the guy beside him. Waitstaff came running to find me, and we gave him CPR till the ambulance arrived. Unfortunately he did not make it. Nowhere as amusing as your stories were. . but oof. Yes, a nightmare. ................................................................. Which reminds me of the second nightmarish part of the whole thing. I was wearing a rather short skirt that day. During the CPR I looked up and noticed that the eyes of the onlookers were not exactly directed at the fellow's face. Never wore a miniskirt to work again. . .

Good point, mizducky. I find the absolutely best way to save on buying groceries (and save on the endless time it seems to take to go the grocery store, too!) is to take everything that is in my freezer, and everything that is in my fridge and lay it out on the counter. . .there generally is much more stuff in there than I ever would have thought. . .and start "mixing and matching" to create meals. There is not a single time in my memory that I can come up with where, "just what was in the fridge" (and cupboards, etc.) could not yield a good four meals! There is always something to make into some sort of generalized Mexican main course. . layering things with tacos and baking. There is usually something that can be stir-fried and served with a fried rice. There is usually something that can be made into a sauce for pasta. . .and always something that can be made into a hearty soup! The added bonus, besides the thrifty side of it, is the sheer fun of being creative with what you've got! Great fun! (And I seem to remember a thread that covered times like this. . .people would post "what can I make with this, that and the other thing" and others would post responses, but I don't remember the name of it. . .maybe someone else does?) It's all in how you look at it, so often, isn't it. What might appear to be a difficulty can really be an opportunity (oh please I do not want to sound like a dreadful self help book so I will stop!). Karen

Your words are evocative of a time past that seems magical, and in ways it was. I can taste those egg sandwiches that you write of, see the slightly browned edge of the egg white and the thick pliant bread that surrounded them. And I can feel the pride of the ten-year-old girl who walked out of the house with the stance of a lady to feed the hungry man that quietly waited. These images of a time when things seemed to be safer for a child. . .times when a child could walk out into the street and trust. . .are immensely moving. And the tastes and memories of the simple food that was a vital part of life and not a fussy demanding thing is a gentle reminder of how even the most basic ingredients can be the most nourishing in the most important of ways. When I read of these past times, at first in response after reading I grow upset and angry, and wonder at how it is that things have so changed that I cannot conceive of a ten-year-old girl doing this in this time. I truly feel despair over how the sense of safety is gone for so many children. But then, I can hold onto the memories that you have written, and can tell myself, If it happened then. . .it can happen again. . .it just has to do with some small focus given to it each day by anyone and everyone to try to re-shape the reality. Your memory is precious. I would hope that many more children could have this experience, with food and with the ways it can give succor of all sorts, comfort in infinite variety, and self-assurance that will grow a person strong and good.

Your photographs are astonishingly excellent! And what a pleasant trip for a summer's day. . . (You did not ask him if the spaceship of cheese bacilli stops at his shop, did you? ) Thanks for a very pleasant vicarious experience, nice post!

Polenta with various toppings. . . Crepes of all sorts. . . Whole grain pancakes for breakfast with fruit toppings. . . Twice-baked stuffed potatoes. . . Risottos. . . Any sort of stuffed baked vegetable. . . Kasha not only "varnishkes" but hot with honey and milk for breakfast. . . Pierogis. . . Any sort of waffles (you can buy a cheap wafflemaker for about $8.). . . Vietnamese Spring Rolls. . . Chowders. . . Couscous. . . And of course, its always fun to think about how something could be used before throwing it out. Bread can be made into bread pudding or croutons, bagels into bagel chips, bananas into banana bread or other fruits the same (I know you said that you were losing weight, but lowcal lowfat versions can be done). It is challenging time-wise and mentally to re-enter the kitchen after relying on eating out or on frozen foods, but the reward is definitely there. Just takes some focus to change habits. Then of course, the problem is that when you DO eat out or eat frozen, nothing will come up to your standards most of the time, and you will be in the kitchen more than you ever expected! Ah, well. Tradeoffs. At least the food will be really good.

Just received my "fabulous prize" in the mail, and it truly is fabulous. The Fiftieth Anniversary Edition of The Art of Eating by MFK Fisher. A beautiful volume, and I am so happy to receive it. My own copy is very old and bedraggled, but it will never leave my shelves for the piles that are given away to the library or thrift stores. A heartfelt "Thanks!" to you again, Maggie. Karen

Bill, you'll enjoy it if you do make it over there! One word of advice for when you go: If you are out of practice with your Spanish language skills, try to review the numbers from 1 to 100 in your mind. . .for it is very possible that the guy that runs from the kitchen to the counter with the orders does not speak English. My own ears were breathless with that sort of anxious expectation one has when only minimally fluent in a language, to hear that "quarenta y seis" called out over the din! Enjoy. . . Karen

So, at the risk of offending several sacred cows (or perhaps in order to) here is the seperate thread. Its about irrational food beliefs, and the way some elevate food to religion rather than the foods of any particular religion; maybe its also about the the human need for received beliefs, either as religion or food (this is not just any burger, but a 100% Angus burger etc as one current advert has it), and how this need can be, and is exploited ← Going back to Jack's original post, I think he has actually presented a "workable" thesis, and one that could be presented in a form that would make a valid argument, and perhaps even a true one. Certainly a cogent one. It seems to me that the difficulty may lie in how "religion" is defined within the argument. It would have to be a definition that had enough authority to be credible to most readers. I wonder if there is anyone out there practiced enough in Aristotolean Logic who could put this argument into a form that would work to meet the final criteria for a valid and true argument. I can not do it, for the practice of symbolic reasoning always makes me feel as if I've entered a topsy-turvy world somewhat like a Marx Brothers movie. Logic makes me feel as if the world is illogical, and I leave a bit of my sanity behind after attempting this sort of exercise. I'd love to see one of you mathematical mind-types try your hand at this, it would be really interesting to see if the original point could be made.

I am curious, Culinista, for the book sounds fascinating. What is Iggers background? Is he an academic, or a writer, or perhaps a sociologist?

Add my thanks to your bundle, Michael. I am always awed at the time and attention it must take to do this for an entire week. . .and awed by the people that somehow manage to do these blogs. I agree with "whomever it was" that said you should do reviews. Your writing has a certain personality to it that draws the reader in and invites them to see, taste, think. As to how this week of seeing NY in photos has personally affected me, it has most likely given me the impetus to grab each of my children tightly by the hand, as I did when we zoomed through the subways and streets several years ago, the first time they visited what feels like my "home", and to definitely make the trip again very very soon. Alright, I'll stop before breaking into song. "New York, New York" of course, and who wants to hear that another time. Be well. Karen

One of the difficulties in sorting all this out (ha, ha, we're not looking for certainty about all this, are we?! ) is that there are differences is both the criteria for what one would call a "foodie" and in what "religion" is, to different people. Then of course there is the nature of religion itself, which, as it (supposedly) deals with mysteries, can not be pinned down in ways. And as it deals with the sacred, there are parts of it which are sacred to those who embrace it. And sacred is sacred. Sacred is something that one just doesn't mess with. (Please do not infer that there is any "tone" at all in this last paragraph, whomever reads it. There is no attitude in these words. . .) The quote above, looking at the subject as a possible "schism between free thinkers and those who need to be told" is tossing the subject around to look at it in yet another different light. And in ways it may be true, just as so many of the comments people have made so far have been true, too. It is an exploration of the subject made by focusing on the individual person rather than on the cultural happenings that affect this idea. And in a blanket statement form, it sure can seem quite true. The original post was asking for "why do some people follow (this that or the other thing) rather than decide for themselves". But taken a bit further, I can see where this statement might break down in terms of validity. For people are mutable and constantly changing, and for different reasons. The person who rejects the food "ways" they grew up with, as in someone who did not choose to keep Kosher after leaving home, may be doing so with a very well thought through reason for doing so. . .or they may be doing so just because they need to break away from their families traditions in order to find and feel something that is their own, and solely their own. Or they might do so from no real thought process at all, but just from an angry rebellion. Is the person who rejects something merely out of an emotional defiant response to be included in the "free thinker" category? Or are they to be included more in the "those who need to be told" category. . . It seems to me that the drive of this particular person (at that point in time) would be coming more from the "need to be told" area. It does not seem that thinking is involved. Then there is the fact that people change through life, and are rather flighty in terms of pinning down "what they are" themselves at any moment. The great thinker is not always the great thinker.. . .sometimes even the best thinkers do things that are not thought out well or completely. . .and sometimes "the one who follows what they have been told" can do the most unexpected things. Sigh. Then there is the factor of the minister and the chicken soup glop. Is the person who brings this sort of thing to a church supper a follower (of the ministers somehow) or are they a follower (of the general way of jello-food culture that they live in) or are they just trying to get by without fuss in a situation where if they brought something "different", it might be rejected. Flip that to the foodie side of things, it runs too. Try to bring a tuna casserole or bangers-and-mash to a group of foodies preparing for their monthly gourmet dinner and they might reject it (and the person that brings it as an extension!) Well. What can I say. I am sure happy to have taken the time to write out all this nonsense that even I can not make too much structural sense of, and that surely I can not pin down to any reality! So, can the "foodie" thing be clearly defined? It may indeed be a disparate collection of "thinkers" and "followers", but who can tell the difference?

Messing Around with Boats. That's what I intended to do, today, but of course that takes getting up early in the morning. The next place after the taco place was the American Dream made real. The New Mall. Rather fantastic. In some ways, I wanted to head back to the taco place. . .but did, regardless of my initial reluctance, enter the magical world of va va voom sparkle and dash. Yes, nice mall. Huge. And who needs to go to museums when the museum shops are right there in the mall, huh? Okay, I bought a few clothes just so I could feel "in place" then had to find another place to eat. I almost walked into Lindt Chocolates to make a meal there, but decided no. . .and finally ended up at California Pizza Kitchen. It was quick, it was shiny, it was low-key not-too-expensive la-de-dah. High energy there, seems to be a very good staff. The food was tasty and well-made. I had a raspberry mojito (lovely fresh mint, lots of it, crushed up in the glass) and the Singapore Spring Rolls. Good renditions of each. I couldn't help staring endlessly at the menu figuring food and labor costs and sales projections. Very well-crafted menu and pricing. So much so that when I get home, I definitely want to find out what their stock is going for! Driving back to the hotel, I naturally got lost again and went the wrong way down Tradeport Road. Good thing I did. Searching for coffee or something to set me straight from the mojito (which packed more punch than I realized at first) I discovered there was no good coffee to be found, but the next best thing was. Boiled Peanuts. Hot boiled peanuts will sober you up in a blink, believe me! Right there beside the Baptist Church with the sign that said. . . "Open 24 hours a day: God!" was the peanut guy parked with his pickup and a big aluminum boiling thing full of peanuts cooked fresh still in the shell. I asked for enough for a snack and he doled out about a quart (his idea of a snack obviously different than mine) and off I went. (Oh. Three dollars. Same price as my "breakfast". My "lunch" was $19.) ............................................................ That's it, except for dinner. . .I drove to Cocoa Beach and walked the pier but could not bring myself to eat there. . . then went back to Port Canaverel and went to "The Cove" and to a place overlooking the boats called Rusty's. Nice to have the saltair surrounding one on the dock. . .nice to look at the boats at night with the lights shining off their decks. . .and nice to stare at the arrogant pelican nearby. Food was nothing to write home about. I do think their idea of "fresh" grouper may actually be "freshly defrosted" but the price was again, not bad. Entire meal of grilled grouper, terrible salad and side came to $20. so it was really worth it for the smell of diesel fuel and the proximity to what I thought I was going to do today. . .go fishing! That is it for me this time. . .airport tomorrow. It has been fun.

Thanks, Susan. This steambath (oops I meant to say Florida heh heh) has been good so far. The trip down, yesterday, was another story. The heights of American Fast Food were reached by my eating a Taco Bell Crunchwrap, which was rather like eating somebody's pocketbook full of crushed up food, and then to top it off, Starbuck's newest offering. . .a Green Tea Frappucino. That was interesting. The color is totally mesmerizing. . .a sort of bright jungle green on one hand, but on the other hand it reminds me of nothing so much as a bar of that green industrial soap. Sort of tastes inbeween those two things too. So I wasn't really hungry this morning. Around lunchtime, I wandered out to find something to do. Naturally I felt that I "had nothing to wear". This always happens. So the car rental guy sent me off to Millenium Mall. I had to believe that his recomendations were good, for he told me his birthday was the same as mine. (On the other hand, as an ex-New Yorker I'm thinking the guy is getting some sort of commission for me walking through the mall doors. . .eh.) Thankfully, I got lost. I always do at first in this sort of sprawly place where one has to drive rather than take the subway, and it is a good thing that I do! Driving down Orange Blossom, I saw a taqueria with lots of old pick-up trucks in front of it. Taqueria Amica Jalisco. Corner of 44th Street. Funky little place. I was the only gringa there (no gringos, either!). Spanish spoken, menus only in Spanish posted on handwritten sheets on the wall. Tacos. All the usual sorts, plus a fish taco. One dollar each (except the fish taco which was $1.50). Twelve sorts of tacos. I chose one chicharrone and one cabeza. You place your order with the counter girl (who when hearing my fractured Spanish changed to English, nicely, for me) and then wait for your number to be called. The place was crowded with Mexican working guys eating at large laminate tables. . .a few families with children came in too. . .and. . .ei caramba. The food was good. Better than good. There is a "toppings" bar. The chicharrones I topped with a thinned guacamole, some spicy slaw, and a squeeze of fresh lime. The cabeza I topped with grilled onions. My favorite was the cabeza. Total comfort food. These tacos are small and homemade. . .not huge thin floury things, but just perfect for sopping up the yummy juices that ooze out of the fillings. And although I was the only freckled redhead in the place, I was not made to feel strange at all, and was even welcomed to sit at a table with a quiet gesture and a "Senora. . ." by one of the workmen/gentlemen. They did offer one other dish which many people were enjoying at the tables. Menudo, which was priced at six dollars, was served in large earthenware bowls with accompaniments. It looked great, and was certainly being slurped right up by those who had ordered it. Topped it all off with a pineapple soda, and I was one happy camper. So much so that when it was time to remove the take-out container from the car to throw it away, (I didn't stay in the restaurant, for by the time I got my order the line was extending out the door!) instead I opened it up to take a deep whiff of the wonderful smells that were left, and found that I had to keep it a while longer just to smell it occasionally. (Yeah, I know I'm wierd. . .) More later. Oh, yes I did make it to the mall. Naptime. (Well, it IS vacation, you know!)