cutting board confessional

When annoying people produce superior recipes…

So this upcoming Le Grand Cirque gig is interesting because I’m told—per the rider—that my clients are comprised of “27 Asian and 15 Western” individuals. Well thanks. That really clears things up. I get what the “Western” part refers to: those are the people who eat all the Twinkies. But considering Asia includes places like Mongolia and Lebanon and India, you’re not really defining the cuisine you’re shooting for, people. Sure, you’ve indicated you’re seeking four entrees with “mostly Oriental influences,” but—in addition to being a term often regarded as offensive by many Asians I know—“Oriental” means characteristic of Asia. So really, we’re back to square one, aren’t we?

Well, I’ve decided to lean a little bit on the most Western Asian chef I know, Ming Tsai, who—despite his extremely irritating on-screen affect—has one skill I can’t knock: that guy can identify authentic Asian dishes that are completely and utterly inoffensive to the pickiest Western palate. I remember printing off a recipe in the 90s for his “Lion’s Head Stew”, when he had a cooking show on the still-wet-behind-the-ears Food Network. I’m figuring that if Ming Tsai thought the naive home foodies of the 90s would be into this stuff, then it’s probably pretty benign. In my business, benign is good, because if we can be all things to all people in a general sense, it gives us extra time to be something special to certain people when it really matters. And in tour catering, certain people are usually looking for something special at some point during the day…usually when I’m trying to get the food out.

Lion’s Head Stew is basically a ginger-scallion pork meatball in a light broth with Napa Cabbage and black mushrooms. Does. Not. Suck. It’s filling, especially when you pour it over a little rice in the bottom of your bowl. If someone likes wonton soup, they’ll like Lion’s Head Stew. So pretty much the whole world likes this dish.

I’m glad that the tour threw me a loop, because I haven’t thought about this dish for a long time. Part of that is because I try not to think about Ming Tsai, but I suppose that’s a mistake. I obviously turned to him when I needed something specific, so perhaps he’s not so bad after all.

Get the recipe here: http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/ming-tsai/lions-head-stew-recipe/index.html

If you’re actually going to make this, choose leaner minced pork—I use 80-20—and add the scallion-ginger water slowly until you get a workable meatball-y consistency. The recipe as written is a little, uh, touched.

This is your podcast on rugs.

So @jakks posted a pic of herself with her new microphone, a stylishly bulging wad of metal reminiscent of that scene when Daddy Warbucks did the radio show in “Annie.” A real old-skool piece of ish that mic is, perfect for a superfly girl like jakks. Funny thing is I really couldn’t tell it was jakks without referring to the floor, beautifully adorned by an Angela Adams rug that half the female population of Maine would happily lop off their left breast for. But I digress. <-get used to this.

The context of the photo was this:

jakks: yo @eatswell i just picked this up for our podcast ;) http://twitpic.com/187ap2 LOL

But here’s the deal: that “LOL” isn’t just a front, because we actually HAVE talked about a podcast, and there’s a very compelling reason why we’d be perfect co-hosts. I’m a cook. jakks is not. She’s okay with me saying that. Right, jakks? Right? In fact, jakks owns the cookbook “How to Boil Water,” and I think I’m safe in saying that the recipe from page one of that particular tome has probably been fucked royally by jakks. I’m so convinced of this that I replied:

eatswell: We’re gonna have to come up with a good name for this here podcast. It has to be epic. I was thinking: “How to Burn Water.” Whaddya think about that name?

A simple reply from her end:

jakks: um yeah that’s totally hot erin. totally hot.

I responded:

eatswell: I would be totally interested to hear your thoughts on the subject. Don’t hate. Collaborate, yo.

But I’m thinking she likes it. Sure, there may be some copyright infringement issues and whatnot, but we’ll sort that out when we get that big paid contract. Rush Limbaugh has his Golden Microphone, but ours will be pink. And Bedazzled. And jakks and I will talk authoritatively about the best way to not burn water—and the consequences if you do—because we both have something to offer. Seriously.

On Inconsistency

A week from today I’ll be in Lowell, MA feeding the cast of Le Grande Cirque, an acrobatic troupe whose name indicates what one would expect: a Cirque de Soleil-style mind trip full of lithe and barely-adult (if at all) athletes contorting and spinning and just generally doing things human bodies aren’t really designed to do.

This isn’t my first go-round with these types. I’ve fed the pubescent members of Riverdance and Lord of the Dance, their penchant for cheesy faux-Mexican and the large bowls of Hostess products belying their amazingly fit and capable bodies. Then there was the recent episode with the macrobiotic Noggin star, who—despite the rider stating that 5 out of 9 tour members required items like brown rice and kale for breakfast (NO EXCEPTIONS!!)—cleaned out my stash of candy bars. There are the vegan lifestylers, whose Naziesque dietary paradigm is so easily challenged when I whip out the fryolator and chuck a wad of tempura covered ice cream in to fry.

It’s not that I don’t think they’re entitled to eat that shit, it’s just that I think they don’t deserve to if they tell me they’re too good for it. I mean, don’t send me a rider telling me you ascribe to some superior dietary worldview, because I know you’re weak, and that’s why I keep bringing the Twinkies…and you keep eating them. There’s an old Russian proverb that says something like, “Hypocrites kick with their hind feet while they lick with their tongues.” That proverb brings to mind a horse, mostly because people don’t really have hind feet, just feet feet. Plus, the hypocrites of which I speak use their tongues much like a horse: because they EAT MY TWINKIES LIKE ONE!

Do I sound bitter? I’m not, really. I actually like my job. I like the people. I just don’t like the fronting. Anyone who’s ever seen a band’s tour rider (http://www.thesmokinggun.com/backstagetour/index.html) knows the types of demands placed upon peons like caterers, and frankly, I’m of the opinion that if you sell out shows, you’re entitled to your demands. Just don’t make shit up to seem unique or superior or healthy or what-not. The evidence otherwise is easily quantifiable, and I’m counting.