"Ask not what you can do for your country. Ask what's for lunch."鈥� Orson Welles
Our family has decided to gather regularly and share a meal from another country or region across the globe. Every month, we'll research an area, prepare and contribute a few dishes and provide a little information on the culture. Tonight is Chinese. Sounds cliché; however, we've taken pains not to cook the Westernized versions of this cuisine. We sought out recipes as close to authentic as possible. I can hardly wait.
Unfortunately, my son Justin says he's bringing a surprise. That's a bit worrying, considering what he's contributed in the past (eel soup and pickled tripe). Still, we'll cheerfully give it a go — maybe.
Meals on our farm have come a long way since I was a kid. My dear mother, self-admittedly, was not a cook. She made terrific brown bread and a dandy salmon loaf, although a good third of it was onions, but that was about it.
Bill and I well remember Mom's style of macaroni and cheese. Giada De Laurentiis, the famous Italian chef of television fame, would run screaming from the kitchen if she were presented with it. Mom started by glugging a minimal amount of water into a saucepan, then threw in a few handfuls of macaroni and let 'er roll. When all vestiges of water had either evaporated or become one with the limp, broken, and thoroughly defeated pasta, it was done. All that remained was to turn it onto a plate in one gelatinous mass, strategically place cheddar chunks on top, and wait for them to melt. Et voilà! Sliceable macaroni and cheese, perfect for any occasion.
Another of my mother's staple meals was meatloaf. Many recipes for this delightful, everyday meal include such ingredients as cracker crumbs, onions, eggs and spices. Mom's was a little less fussy.
It involved meat in the shape of a loaf. She'd toss a hunk of frozen hamburger into a roasting pan, fill it half full of water and slide it into the oven. Again the term, let 'er roll would come into play until the lump became a brown husk, shrunken to half its size. At this point, the meat was slathered with ketchup and dumped on a plate. Although the meal wasn't exactly tasty, we kids were healthy enough.
When I was young, people didn't bother so much about food. There weren't whole networks devoted to the art of cookery or glossy magazines depicting intricate recipes. And I don't ever recall reading anything as flowery and extravagant as when food critics describe a meal these days.
I read one recently. It concerned a plate of flame-grilled mackerel. I mean, I understand the writers need to embellish its description a little, since how exciting can mackerel really be? Nevertheless, when he said the fish was "… suave, refreshing and nonchalantly sensual …" I had to shake my head and ponder what that actually meant.
How does a plate of fish manage to be suave? Have fish achieved some level of sophistication I'm unaware of? Refreshing is alright, but "nonchalantly sensual?" Was he saying the scaly creature had somehow affected an air of indifference to his plight on the platter? Or was he merely indifferent to his obvious good looks and charm?
But enough foolishness. I must return to chopping chocolate for the dessert, a pleasant task if ever there was one. Enjoy your lunch!
Helen lives on the family farm near Marshall, Sask., where she works as an author, columnist and in education. Contact her online at helentoews.com. There, you can learn more about her humorous Prairie Wool Books, or newly released fantasy series, Runestaff Chronicles.
