Culinary Exploration

I am a foodie. My skills in the kitchen define the phrase "slightly above average" (though I made my own caramel and ice cream in a pinch a month ago), and my taste buds have become capable of determining the differences between a table wine and the vintner's blend (either way, I don't like tannins). Despite this, the distinctions between a grape grown in Napa and one fermented on the banks of the Loire will forever elude me. But, I will try each, and enjoy them to my fullest abilities.

Along the same vein of thought, I have done what I can to start a new tradition. Two weeks ago, I ate my first traditional Po' Boy, and a bowl of homemade Jambalaya. I succumbed to the temptation for Irish Coffee, and ate oysters on the half shell. All this was done in the name of exploring the culinary world.

I dream of one day owning the finest beluga caviar (could it really be worth eating if you must utter "beluga"?), sipping champagnes with tiny bubbles (was this what Don Ho was writing about when he penned "Tiny Bubbles"?), and awaiting my filet mignon.

For now, though, I am interested in Americana's influence over modern cuisine. Next weekend, I will be traveling to St. Helena (just north of Napa) for what has been described by Bon Appetite and Gourmet magazines as the second best burger in America (if anyone is interested, please let me know. There are always spots available for those also interested in food). Gourmet magazine, a periodical with a name so snooty I almost feel lower class by comparison, gave space to a burger; even greater, this burger doesn't necessarily have cheeses imported from German llama farmers. Their cheeseburger has American cheese (faux pas? Oh hell, naw...).

Michael Pollan, author of such books as The Omnivore's Dilemma and In Defense of Food: An Eater's Manifesto (both works I highly suggest/own and will borrow out) has catalogued the modern human eating experience, and created a short summary: we have lost our way as a species. Food is not mere sustenance. The "lowly" burger represents the culmination of the harvesting of grains, the raising of a cow for consumption's sake, and cheeses (American cheese is cheese. I declare it, it is so) created with the human pallet in mind. Add to that the saltiness of pickles, the crunch of lettuce, and the perfect accent of Heinz ketchup (catsup?) and mustard.

Even then, though, something in the experience could be missing (so says Pollan, and I agree): someone to enjoy the good with. I don't mean that special "someone." I mean anyone! For most of human existence food was a time to sit down and enjoy one's family. Today, we just eat. I eat, on the average, one meal a week with another person. Why? I live in a library, sure, but also because food has devolved from its position of status to mere calories.

As such, I suggest culinary explorations with friends, family, fellow students, hoboes, millionaires or any other random human being. I am going to St. Helena to have one of the best burger's in America. If you are interested, or you have an inspired idea for the next food adventure, let me know, and I will go with you. I hear "garbage plates" are a delicacy best savored with a sub-par Canadian beer, and that Argentinean steak alongside a local vino rojo can best the greatest of French cuisine (I have my doubts, but would want to try). And these are just a few of the suggestions I have gotten . . .

Food for society's sake. Eating for the purpose of enjoyment. Strange that this is so novel.

Edit Note: Not five minutes after I posted this (meaning in the past five minutes) my friend (another great writer in his own right) said that I "use so many words" to "convey something that ultimately amounts to a dollar on the value menu." That's the point. If not for the description of food, we would simply be consuming calories. That food is no longer important to our experience, to put it plainly, sucks.