The Dinner Files

I recently found myself sitting in a room in Yountville with a few other food writers, a whole mess of health and nutrition writers, some fitness writers, some food product development folks, a bunch of chefs, and the usual assortment of marketing and PR people that are so often present when the rest of that group gets together (we need someone to organize us, after all – and getting writers and chefs all in the same place at the same time appears to be a lot like herding cats).

The talk, much to my surprise, centered on healthy cooking and how we (“we” being writers and chefs) can help Americans eat better and I was bored. Really quite extremely bored. I was bored for several reasons.

1) I would never willing attend a talk on “healthy cooking.” I had thought I would be attending a much more specific ingredient-focused presentation and demonstrations. I already know a lot of what is generally called “healthy cooking.”

2) I don’t think people lack information about eating well. I think most people know they should eat vegetables and not fry everything. I think most people are stuck between a rock and a hard place of economics, convenience, and the horror of confluence that is human biological craving and food science’s ability to work those cravings like nobody’s business and in order to do great scads of business.

3) The notion of what “healthy cooking” is that was largely being used in that room makes me sad. It was more nutritionally driven than taste driven, more about what is in food than how we experience food. From what I have pieced together, unless people are really in touch with the experience of their food and how it affects them, switching how they eat is an uphill battle of deprivation and backsliding.

Then the discussion turned to class and I went from bored to wanting to pull my hair out strand by strand. That the worst food is the cheapest and that people with less money therefore tend to in general eat more of it is a question of federal policy (see “Farm Bill”) as much as anything and no matter how many articles I write about how delicious greens are, we subsidize high fructose corn syrup and not chard and discussing it as a question of nutritional education is insulting to everyone involved. Political education, perhaps. It certainly ain’t an issue that is going to be solved by lifestyle magazines.

Then – please, stay with me, I’ll get to the delicious salmon soon – the discussion turned to the children. Annoyance turned to hopelessness as the room took as unquestioned truth the notion of kids food. The need for healthy kids food. The challenge of kids food. Sneaking spinach into smoothies (and not telling the kids what made it green – “magic” was suggested as an explanation). The importance of kids menus offering carrot stick “dippers” instead of French fries.

Look, children tend to be pickier about food than adults. They don’t necessarily want to eat everything we eat. They also don’t know much. That’s why we need to teach them.

Just as we teach kids how to read and how to brush their teeth, we need to teach them how to eat. If we slough it off by handing them snack packs throughout the day, that is how they will learn to eat – constantly, with their hands, processed food. We can’t teach them in an afternoon when they’re in fourth grade – it’s a process. A long, slow process of offering different foods and explaining again and again and being consistent and letting them make choices when and where appropriate and laying down the law when that’s appropriate too. It’s like every other aspect of parenting. And, like all the other aspects, they watch more what we do than listen to what we say.

(I don’t think I ever got a dirtier look than the one I got from a group of parents at the park at 11:30 one morning when my son was three and I told him as he looked at the other kids constantly pawing through bags of Goldfish crackers and Pirates’ Booty that no, I didn’t have a snack because he’s already eaten it. Plus, I said, we’re going home soon as we were having lunch in half an hour and that it was okay to be a little bit hungry before a meal. To me it seemed like a teachable moment. Their faces told me they thought it was closer to abuse.)

Annoyance, hopelessness, and frustration with the world melted away when I got home and was met by a family that was super psyched to have me throw a salmon fillet on the grill and help me pick the last of the mustard greens from our completely over-grown garden and eat them tossed with a bit of rice vinegar, sesame oil, soy sauce, and mirin. When my son made a play for the charred and crispy skin from my piece of salmon, I gave it to him with glee.

What? It’s not salmon season yet? Why no, it’s not. This fillet is part of a group-buy from a fisherman up in Washington state a friend put together. It was wild-caught Pacific salmon caught last season, bled and iced on the boat, cleaned and frozen the same day. We bought so much directly from the fisherman that he shipped it freight and the whole of it cost way less than retail. It makes me grateful not only for the family that eats it with joy and but also for the deep freeze that came with our house. Now I’m waiting for this year’s salmon season to start up so I can get some from the Copper River fishermen I met last summer.

Frozen salmon on the grill

The best thing I learned while up in Alaska last summer learning about Copper River salmon was that you can throw frozen salmon directly on the grill. It takes a few more minutes to cook, and works like a charm. Brilliant.

Salmon fillet, skin on – fresh, frozen, or defrosted

Oil

Salt

Pepper (optional)

Lemon (optional)

Clean the cooking grate on your grill – no need to go crazy, but scrape off any bits clinging to it. Rub the grate with oil. Now heat the grill. Get it nice and hot, but not crazy hot – you should be able to hold your hand about an inch above the cooking grate for a minute or two.

Rub the skin with oil and set salmon, skin-side down, on the grill. Sprinkle the flesh side with salt. Sprinkle pepper on too, if you like. Cover and cook until desired doneness. I find a fresh fillet that is about an inch thick is ready in 10 -12 minutes, but I like my salmon actually cooked in the middle. If you want that bit of raw, cook it less. A frozen fillet the same size seems to take an extra 5 minutes on the grill.

Notice I have not instructed you to flip or turn or move the fish in any way. The skin protects the down side, the cover helps cook the top side.

Use a wide spatula to lift the whole fillet off the grill and slide it onto a baking sheet or platter. Hold the platter over the grill and next to the fish when you do this so the fillet spends as little time as possible hanging off the spatula on either end.

Serve hot or at least warm with a spritz of lemon juice, if you like, or whatever sauce or condiment floats your salmon boat.

Who had time to cook? I had presidential debates to watch. Well, just the one last night, but you know what I mean. I’d been slaving all day on a last minute story for The Man. The Man, however, was in a better place, thank god, so the whole thing went more like this:

The Man: We’d love you to do this story that you are uniquely qualified to write, would you do that for us in exchange for this small pile of cash?

Me: Why yes, I would, thank you for thinking of me.

[time passes]

The Man: This is great, thanks so much!

Me: You are very welcome.

I have to say, that’s about the level of drama I’m willing to deal with in professional relationships. Does it make good reading? No, not really. But I like how it doesn’t drive me insane and allows me to focus energies elsewhere, like into giant-ass needlepoint projects.

So anyway… back to dinner. It was a night of full-on freezer adoration. I went down to the freezer in the basement, rifling through the containers and bags, and pulled out some lemony lentils and spicy beef stew from an Ethiopian Feast I made in July. With an arugula salad (leaves from the farm box) and some sliced cucumber salad, we were all set. Oh yeah, plus the leftover butternut squash from the night before. Serious scrounging, yes. In a way it was a meal that was just working through what was in the house. In another way it was a tasty, nutritious dinner.

BTW, the cucumbers were “inspired” by this little number created by Jess over at Hogwash. Except I really didn’t have any of the key ingredients except the cucumbers. But still, I sliced them as thin as possible on a mandoline, which was step 1 of her recipe. Some day when champagne vinegar and chives grace my cupboards I will make that salad. Last night I just tossed them with a bit of oil and rice vinegar and plenty of salt. Boring but tasty. And cooling next to the stew.

I can’t believe I buy something with that name, but I do. There is almost always at least one Ethnic Gourmet palak paneer frozen entree in my freezer. They are for emergencies. Like when I’m home alone and obsessed with needlepoint, obsessed to an extent that maybe I’ve even injured myself. You see, I can’t seem to bend my thumb quite all the way anymore. Maybe I should take a break….

Let’s just file this one under “embarrassing,” shall we?

I came home after a long day out working and errands and who knows what all to an empty house. I was famished. Famished, I say! But didn’t want to cook. I wanted to listen to the presidential debate because I am a responsible, engaged citizen. So even though I knew the whole thing would drive me crazy and was most extremely unlikely to change my vote (!), I listened. Yet I was needed something substantial and tasty and hot to eat. I turned to the freezer. And in that freezer I found some tamales. Red chile pork tamales. Red chile pork tamales from Leona’s in Santa Fe. Red chile pork tamales from Leone’s in Santa Fe leftover from when we had a tamale taste-off at Sunset. If one of my former co-workers is reading they might let you know when that was. Me? I’m not telling. It’s a deep-freeze. Things last forever. And they looked fine and tasted great and I’m alive today. My only question is how I had forgotten to eat them sooner.