A Vacation of the Mind
Despite the promise of warmer
weather later in the week and a recent visit from the city-dwelling boyfriend,
I have the winter blues as bad as if it was January 26th and not
March 26th. I get out my
cookbooks and page through lists of ingredients searching for the culinary
equivalent of a trip to Mexico.
In a former life, when I managed the
largest retail cookbook selection in the U.S., I’d frequently sell books to people
not because they were interested in cooking so much as they were interested in
going places. They wanted to be
transported somewhere through imagined exotic tastes and textures, without
having to leave the comfort of their own kitchen.
While I’d actually much prefer
jetting off to the rainforest, I must resign myself to my present encampment at
8500 feet with a 20 degree wind-chill. If,
like me, you’re stuck just where you are, here are my suggestions for a
vacation of the mind and of the palate.
Viva Mexico!
Winter is
about heavy, thick, comforting foods, rich sauces and braised meats. What better way to imagine distant beaches
than the fresh ocean taste of ceviche? A
traditional ceviche requires very fresh fish (large flake and meaty, like snapper
or bass), or lovely shellfish like shrimp, so splurge and buy something that has not been frozen at Whole Foods
or your local market. You can even use octopus
if you’re feeling adventurous. I once
had a seafood salad on a beach outside of Rome that tasted of the sea; the
flavor of tender briny fish filled my mouth and my memory with a pleasure that
remains to this day.
For the best
ceviche, always use fresh ingredients, from the lime juice to the white onion, chilies, and cilantro, and don’t over marinate the fish.
I like to add avocado for texture and service with really good
tortillas, and, of course, a lusty Mexican beer.
à la Romana
When I was
in Rome, I tasted the freshest food I’d ever had. Even the simple 3 or 4 ingredient dishes felt
alive on my tongue. Most memorable was
the pizza I had in Rome: Thin, chewy crusts,
delicately topped with tomato and basil, and finished hot out of the oven with
peppery arugula or translucent slices of prosciutto. The secret is not only in the freshness of ingredients,
but in the ovens: most pizza in Italy is
cooked in a wood fire brick oven, and oh, the difference it makes.
You can make
your own version with a gas grill. Even if it’s too cold to stand outside, it’s
easy enough to get the grill really hot and slip the pizza onto a grilling
rack. Try using the upper tier of your grill
and turn the pizza half way through. For
more smoky grill flavor at the table, try seasonable vegetables like
artichokes halves or whole asparagus.
Simply drizzle each with olive oil and sprinkle with kosher salt.
al Fresco
I have a
memory of a Hemingway piece where he’s fishing all day in the hot sun, perhaps
in Spain. The descriptions are pared
down and laid bare, and yet he effortlessly evokes the goodness of eating
outside, how sensual an experience simple hunger and simple food can be. In the story, Hemingway and friend place four
(yes, four) bottles of white wine in the river while they fish and return to drink
the icy wine some hours later, paired with a roasted chicken they tear with
their fingers, and a good baguette with strong cheese. After, they doze in
the sun. Whenever I think of eating outside, I think of this meal, which is
elemental and satisfying.
There are
plenty of places all over the world where once the weather warms ups, people
make their way outside loaded with blankets, a bottle of wine, and a basket of
lovely food. When I want to invoke the
memory of eating outside, I make buttermilk fried chicken. It’s the first food I made for the
city-dwelling boyfriend on our first date at the Farmer’s Market in
Boulder. We drank Prosecco and nibbled
on juicy fried chicken with a baguette and some goat cheese and heirloom tomatoes we’d bought at
the market.
And yes, afterwards, we
dozed in the sun.
Happy Travels!city-dwelling boyfriend
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