& some of my go-to recipes
Recently, I read Heartburn by Nora Ephron. I’ve been wanting to read something by her for a while because I’ve always heard so many good things. And obviously, When Harry Met Sally is an absolute classic. It was a quick, little, fun read. Although at times, it was problematic, as it was written 43 years ago. Similar to how parts of Sex and the City have not aged well. However, overall, it was very witty and earnest. Basically, the premise of the novel is that a young woman, Rachel, is seven-months pregnant when she learns her husband is having an affair. The whole novel is a series of absurd events, heartbreak and a fair amount of coping with humor. But, most importantly, for the purposes of this article, Rachel is a cookbook author. So, the novel is written like a cooking blog. Generous on personal details, with a dash of cooking instruction. I thought this was fun. It reminds me of this short story someone wrote in my creative writing workshop last semester. The story was structured like a cooking blog explaining how you can use a chicken for every day of the week, but riddled within it were hints of the grief and heartbreak the narrator was going through. I loved that short story. I hope someday it gets published somewhere for more to read.
This year has been the first year I’ve had to cook for myself. After a year of eating in the dining halls, I was both excited to have some control over my eating and yearning for the pre-made and delicious (dare I say) meals in Liz’s Market (if you know, you know). Cooking and eating for oneself is a kind of sacred act (although I do think the sanctity of it is multiplied when shared). I have come to appreciate the process of it all: chopping, prepping, burning my fingers, plating, sending a picture to my mom, eating it (and then eating it again for the next few meals), cleaning the mess up and doing it again and again. The constant need for food, and thus for cooking, is surprisingly comforting during uncomfortable times. It’s ritualistic, creative and associated with a sense of pride in doing something essential for yourself.
When I first moved into my apartment in August, my mom filled my freezer with pre-made meals and treats for my first week. She said it would help me settle in. I thought the sheer amount of filled tupperware was a bit overkill until my parents left and I was all alone. Eating my mom’s turkey chili and Belgian waffles was one of the few things that calmed me in those first few days. Food is a sensual experience. You are tasting, seeing, smelling, touching, and hearing. With that, you’re associating. Like, every time I cook salmon, I think of my mom, because she always cooks me salmon.
My Mom’s Salmon Recipe
- Brush salmon with Dijon mustard and squeeze on fresh lemon juice
- Bake at 400 degrees for 15 minutes (I always forget this and have to ask my mom. Now that I’ve written it, I’m sure it’s etched in my memory)
- Sprinkle with dill
- Serve over rice with greens on the side (beans, broccoli, salad, whatever your heart desires)
All of this to say, food is powerful. It’s culture, community, health, fun, family and art. This makes it convoluted and intensely personal. Which is why I find it so cool! I was that kid in elementary school, obsessed with Food Network. I watched everything. Pioneer Women, Chopped, Beat Bobby Flay, Cake Wars, the list goes on. I used to bake banana bread and record myself on my iPad, pretending I was Ina Garten. I would even pre-measure all my ingredients and put them in small glass dishes like the Food Network hosts. It’s all about presentation and ease. Making it look pretty and feel simple. Even now, sometimes I find myself talking to a nonexistent audience as I make my banana pancakes (an easier, slightly more nutritional way to use browning bananas).
Banana Pancakes Recipe (No measurements. I don’t like measuring. Adjust for your tastes. Love vanilla? Put a ton of vanilla! Allergic to eggs? Don’t add an egg.)
- In a blender, put banana, oats, protein powder, chia seeds, vanilla extract, egg, milk and maybe a spoonful of flour to thicken it, or just more oats. (Everything is replaceable)
- Spoon out batter on a hot, buttered/sprayed pan, flip.
- Top with whatever you want (Fresh maple syrup!! It’s almost tapping season!!) Add whatever additives you want (Chocolate chips are, of course, the best). The pancakes will be quite dense.
Cooking and baking shows remain one of my favorites. This fall, my roommate, Emerson, and I religiously watched The Great British Bake Off together. Every Friday, as we ate dinner, our eyes were glued to the screen, mentally preparing ourselves for the next elimination (yes, I am devastated Prue is retiring). While we watched, we were likely eating some kind of bowl. Emerson and I both love to make bowls. Taco bowls, Greek bowls, rice bowls, random-things-in-our-fridge bowls. They are fun, balanced and feel very adult. Every time I make a nice-looking bowl, I send a picture to my family. It is intended to be a flex. Emerson is famous (at least to me) for making a taco bowl. It was the first thing she ate in the dining halls last year. She would have it at least once a week. And, now that we cook for ourselves, she makes her own version quite regularly.
Emerson’s Taco Bowl
- Make white rice (in rice cooker ideally)
- Ground chicken or turkey with taco seasoning from Aldi (Aldi has the best taco seasoning)
- Chop up bell peppers and jalapeño peppers (without seeds) and saute in Trader Joe’s Citrus Garlic seasoning
- Add in a perfectly ripe half avocado with salt and pepper
- Add in cabbage slaw made with cabbage, Kewpie mayo, white vinegar and salt and pepper
- Top with sour cream and cilantro to garnish
- Brown a Trader Joe’s tortilla in salted butter to have on the side
Food as our lifeblood is underacknowledged and heavily manipulated by money-hungry corporations. Not only is it a source of literal sustenance, but it is a source of memory, community and love. Food often says what words can’t, and recipes rarely include the whole truth of the dish. Cooking and eating are living and enjoying. It’s so ordinary we often forget how extraordinary it really is. It’s easy and common to rush through our meals, abandon lunchtime and replace dinner with a combination of ready-to-eat snacks. But that’s giving in to the demand of capitalism that we must abandon ourselves to the market. To eat slowly and intentionally (although not always an option) is to connect with yourself and everything that makes you, you!