Philosophical Musings #2 - Nullum Gratuitum Prandium

today is All Saints Day and i decided to attend mass (it's been a LONG time) with my dear friend, PJ.  we went to the beautiful Our Lady of the Angels, and afterwards went to the cathedral store to search for saintly items, namely patron saints for, oh i don't know...cooks?  

it seems to be a running joke about how many different kinds of patron saints there are for a wide variety of occupations and ailments, such as bus drivers and alcoholism, computer users and venereal disease.  a full list can be seen here, and although i don't take this sort of thing seriously, it's kinda nice to think that there are these saints that represent important aspects of everyday life.  i had been doing some research prior, and found the patron saint of cooks to be St. Lawrence, however, upon visiting the cathedral store i found that there was indeed more than one patron saint for cooks.  i will list them as follows:

1.  St. Lawrence (also Patron Saint of archives, armouries, brewers, butchers, comedians, confectioners, deacons, fire, glaziers, laundry workers, librarians, lumbago, paupers, poor people, restaurateurs, Rome, school children, seminarians, Sri Lanka, stained glass workers, students, tanners, vintners, wine makers).  as the story goes, he was slowly burned alive on a gridiron, his death sentence by Emperor Valerian in 258 AD.  it is claimed that he told his executioners ,"Turn me over, for I am cooked on this side!"  he usually depicted holding a grid iron (gotta love that catholic sense of humor).

2. St. Martha (also Patron Saint of butlers, dietitians, domestic servants, housekeepers, servers, single laywomen and travelers).  She was sister to St. Lazarus and St. Mary of Bethany, and acted as a hostess to Christ and the apostles.  inventor of bouillabaisse.

3. St. Paschal Baylon (also Patron Saint of Eucharistic congress and organizations).  a Franciscan lay brother of the Alcantine reform, serving as a cook for his brethren.  inventor of zabaglione.

4.  St. Macarius the Younger (also Patron Saint of Pastry Chefs and Confectioners).  was first a merchant of fruits, candies and pastries in Alexandria, Egypt.  he left his successful business to become a monk, living a life of extreme poverty and asceticism in the desert.  for seven years he ate only raw vegetables and water, and on feast days ate crumbs of bread dipped in oil.  he later spent six months in marshes, exposing himself to mosquitoes and flies that left him permanently disfigured as an attempt to rid himself of earthly desires. 

5.  St. Radegund (Patron Saint of Female Cooks/Chefs).  a Merovingian princess and later deaconess and found of the monatery of St. Croix du Poitiers of the 6th century. known for the caring, clothing and feeding the sick and poor, namely women and lepers.  

while at the store, they had a wall display of small patron saint figurines to choose from.  i found myself wanting to get the saints that weren't food related, but instead were the cooler looking "action figures".  St. George was on horseback with a lance slaying a dragon, and St. Michael was brandishing a sword and had his foot stomping on Satan's face (his FACE for christ's sake!  you're going DOWN satan, and you're going to eat my feet on the way!).  the only food related patron saint in tow was St. Martha, and all she was doing was holding a cross.  i later read that while in france, she was supposed to have slain a dragon by sprinkling it with holy water, lassoing it and killing it in a river.  and this is while she invented bouillabaisse?  why couldn't the figurine be her holding a pot of bouillabaisse AND smiting a dragon?  that would have been, the BEST!

i decided to hold off on the figurines and instead purchased some refrigerator magnets of St. Martha and St. Paschal.  St. Lawrence is on the way by special request, and i plan to post this "Most Holy and Venerable Triptych of Gastronomy" in my locker at work, that way when it's time to shine, i can see my saints and have a moment of focus and meditation.  why am i doing this?  simply put, work is getting harder, the numbers are going up, the pickups are getting larger, the prep is disappearing faster, Chef is getting LOUDER, and i'm going to try ANYTHING that will keep up a sense of positivity, hope and concentration.  

i know they are just magnets, and i'm not praying to these saints to intercede.  i focus mainly that the message and sentiment behind them is real and a lesson that i can take heart.  i don't plan on subjecting myself to a volley of arrows (St. Sebastian), or be sentenced to death in the coliseum in defense of my virginity (St. Agnes), but i do plan on meditating on what these saints did, and how me cooking food, is of infinitely less importance.   i should be able to go for the gold and cook food and do my very best because honestly, it's just food and my life isn't on the line.

see, who ever said self deprecation was a bad thing? 

Philosophical Musings #1 - Small Plates

this was my first attempt at food writing from a few years ago. please note that the title "Philosophical Musings - #1", follows the same guidelines set in "Guilty Pleasures - #1" as a means to classify the continuous thoughts on various gastronomic themes i plan to write about. hope you enjoy....

-I

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TAPAS and the SMALL PLATE EVOLUTION

The idea of food in its simple elegance; what an individual eats, and in turn how a society eats has always fascinated me. I believe food to be a pure expression of desires and aesthetics. One knows immediately by the senses if they are going to enjoy a meal. It first begins with scent, then sight, taste, touch and sound, each sense building one on top of another until your first bite has been swallowed. Since food is based on these primal instincts, our inhibitions are either masked or stripped away by the decadence or modesty of a meal. It was in Spain that I first learned of this precise ritual through the tradition of tapas, which I will explain in more detail.

In college, I was fortunate enough to travel abroad. I had been taking Spanish, and had become confident and proficient in everyday communication. I simply wanted to get out of Pax Americana and become immersed in another culture - I believed I could understand more about the language through food. Luckily, a friend was studying in Madrid, so I took that opportunity to tag along. The summer program lasted for 1.5 months, and I planned to stay in her dorm, or one of the nearby hostels. I was determined to have my way, and with a streak of rebellion, didn't tell my parents. As far as they knew, I was working at school and taking a few classes. One never forgets their first acts of freedom, and this had the makings of a grand adventure; it was the start of my culinary experience.

From Madrid I took the train south and made my way to Andalucia, and the city of Malaga; birthplace of Picasso, occupied by the Moors until the 15th century, winter resort for the wealthy, and major coastal merchant center to the Iberian Peninsula. It is also the birthplace of tapas. Tapas literally means "to cover" and the tradition began in the 10th century when bars offered small plates of food to cover the bar patron's drink. One reason suggests it prevented flies from falling into the wine, another suggests that the small plates of food whetted the appetite and increased the need for drink. Yet another was to prevent drunkeness. Whatever the reason, tapas has come to define the essence of Spanish cuisine.

I arrived at 13:00 and walked amongst the Malaguenos. I made my way to the plaza and La Manquita, the renaissance cathedral built on the site of a former mosque in the 16th century; its name loosely translated means "one-armed woman". I took in the architecture and history, noting the baroque facades, and made my way to the center of town; the Alameda Gardens lush with centuries old palm and bottle trees.

It was prime time for tapas as I reached No. 16 on the north side of the Alameda. Antigua Casa de la Guardia, the oldest tapas bar in all of Malaga. The old brick building was full, but I managed to find a corner amidst the businessmen, students and workers. From behind the bar hung whole ham legs, sausages and stacked barrels of wine. I started off with a glass of wine made from muscatel grapes; my thirst quenched, and yet not. I was hungry and my throat was left dry from the wine. I first order the iberico - mountain cured ham from Andalucian pigs that grow sweet from a diet of acorns. It came to me, about four paper thin slices, drizzled with a thickly golden-coloured olive oil; I can smell the salt. I can see the marbling of fat and cured pink flesh. Then I taste the delicate melting on my tongue and myself sigh in delight. I repeat the ritual again. Sip the wine. I am ready for the next. I order a mixture of manzanillas and gordales from Seville; the olives are sweet and meaty, and the larger gordales (the size of small plums) are stuffed with white anchovies. There's also a nice crunch from the whole garlic cloves that have been cured along with the olives. The ritual is again finished off with a sip of wine and I look ahead to my third choice. Everyone is eating seafood. I see hot and cold dishes, salpicon with chopped tomatoes, onions and peppers with prawns and octopus. There are boquerones en vinagre - marinated raw anchovies that are deep fried, along with calmares - tender squid rings. There are also numerous variations of shellfish al ajillo, ranging from razor clams to mussels to lobster and crab. Being a coastal town, Malaga is known for its seafood.

It was at this point of the meal that I started to make friends. Some students offered to buy me another glass of wine and to share their tapas. I gladly accepted and the next two hours sampled everything from meatballs in almond sauce, to chunks of garlicky grilled pork loin, broad beans and ham, braised pigs ears, piquant tripe, spicy snails, fritters and croquettes. We finish with remjon - salad of oranges, codfish, onions and olives dressed with more olive oil and lemon. I didn't want to leave. I would have happily stayed for the rest of the night, but I had a train to catch. I would return to Malaga over the coming weeks, and even made a trip to El Palo for pescaito frito - an assortment of fried fish that is served at all the bodegas .

Call me a romantic, but I vowed to never eat tapas again. I would never be able to top that gastronomic experience here in the States. As years went by, I noted the trend of tapas bars emerging in Los Angeles. I read the reviews, and although tempted to recapture the past, i declined; Los Angeles was not Malaga. Not long after, I noted the new trend of what was coined small plates. Small plates is not a new idea. Aside from my trip to Spain, I've had dim sum in Hong Kong, meze in Morocco, and izakaya in Tokyo. The idea of small bites of food to eat and share crosses many cultures. This new American trend seeks to combine this way of eating with the decorum of American society. After all, Americans tend to be rushed, insulated and detached from their eating. As inhospitable as fast food is with its boxed containers and drive-thru table manners, the small plate phenomenon seeks to slowly bridge that gap and bring a sense of camaraderie and pleasure already known by the rest of the world. Perhaps we would not see ourselves as strangers, and would instead offer to share a glass of wine and a plate of food. In the meantime, the small plate offers this sharing in the safety of a table amongst friends, or at the very least, good acquaintances and best enemies.

My first small plate experience was at AOC in Los Angeles. My friend and I chose four courses, including dessert. We started with some le bergere de rouscatin - sheep milk cheese from the Loire Valley. From there we had a salad of speck, apples and arugula, quail stuffed with foie gras and truffle, and finished off with cheesecake and fresh figs. Everything was shared, small and so delicious, that we didn't need to order more BUT we wanted to. Sneaky and brilliant.

While most protein portions in an entree are about six to eight ounces, a small plate will offer three to four, a more realistic and healthier serving. This also helps with the food costing, bringing a small plate item down in price to its entree equivalent. Going back to the ritual I described of scent, sight, taste, touch and sound, I believe that if one is to truly enjoy a meal, they only need a few bites to understand the message of what each plate is trying to convey. Our senses are fickle and our minds easily distracted. Something as uninspired as prime rib becomes painfully Sisyphean after the tenth bite, and upon finishing the hunk of meat, one must eat another slice to reclaim the glory of the first bite - a sad misconception, indeed. With the small plate, the flavors are every-changing, new, bright and straightforward. There was no confusion from the creaminess of the bergere, to the salty, tartness of the speck, to the warmth and crisp succulence of the quail; each had a perfect beginning and end.

I did try tapas recently, and although I enjoyed my evening, it was more the company than the food. It was inauthentic tapas made with inferior ingredients, and instead played out like "tapas inspired small plates".

I hope small plates continue to find a place beyond the status of a restaurant trend. We need the comfort and excitement it brings, and the subtle message that less IS more.