Inkwell: Authors and Artists

    
Foie gras comes to mind as an example of innate cruelty, at least from
my perspective. I refuse to eat it because of my philosophical stance,
but more to the point, I simply lost my appetite for it upon learning
how it is produced.
  

    
The Gerber baby food example was hysterical, especially when you
imagine someone nuzzling the baby and murmuring "I could just eat you
up!" I also thought that the response "the cruelty we perceive is just
completely incomprehensible to those who are doing the eating" is worth
pondering. The more delicious the ribs, the harder it is to consider
the suffering of the pig. But the bass example frustrates me because it
seems to exist not because it enhances the deliciousness of the fish
but because it somehow "exalts" the eater into Lord of All. It's not
enough that I eat the fish, but the fish must watch me eating it. This
metaphor is muted but still present in the satisfaction in eating
something too expensive for almost anyone to enjoy... I do know that
neither of the two characters eating the fish were meant in any way to
be seen as evil. (I also understand that bringing this up just before
Christmas must seem rather strange!)
  

    
Ed, with luck, you should be in for a good feed. For a brief time,
there was a Malaysian restaurant in Amherst, a town with a major
college and the main campus of the University of Massachusetts. The
food was inexpensive, different (but not wildly different, if you were
fond of Chinese), and quite delicious. But it was just different enough
so that it failed to attract impulse custom and, after several months,
it went under. It gave me an insight into the limits of the
adventurous palates of college students. It was affordable, it was
ample, it tasted really good — but there was no hook (roasted meat!
vegetarian! dim sum!) to pull them in. Only if the country of origin is
a sentimental favorite can the restaurant survive, hence the enduring
presence of a Tibetan eatery here in Northampton. 
  

    
Wow, Tibetan food.  What do they serve there?
  

    
Oh, man: see if they have kwati, the best "bean soup" in the world. If
not, ask them if they could add it to their menu. <debunix> was so
entranced by my description of it that I think she's now got a recipe
on her website. I'm sure they'll have momos, little round ravioli-like
things, which can be exquisite, and the restaurant that used to be here
had a dish called "fried pork with ginger" that was to die for. On the
other hand, a lot of Tibetan joints are just Chinese restaurants in
drag. Or they are here; with luck you'll have some discoveries ahead of
you. 
  

    
Here is the kwati recipe, so delicious:

http://www.well.com/user/debunix/recipes/Kwati.html

Now I have a new mission.....Momos, and fried pork with ginger,
tibetan style.
  

    
There was a Tibetan place in the Bay Area, no? Is it still there?
  

    
There was a time in my life where I virtually lived on momos. Oh god
could I eat some now. And kwati!  
  

    
LHASA CAFE "What do they serve there?" Check it out for yourself:
http://tinyurl.com/2x4dnj They're real Tibetans; the Valley has a large
Tibetan community. 
  

    
Yak! Okay, that's one meat I've never eaten. Are there yak farms
around Northampton? 

I recognized some of the stuff from Mr. Dil's place on the menu, but
it's a lot more varied and adventurous than his. Of course, he was
serving Germans. I am now starving, and about $35 (imaginary) lighter
from the stuff I just ordered in my head reading that.

But no kwati. And kwati is amazing. I wonder if you asked...
  

    
Speaking of momos (I bought a microwave idli maker from India and I'll
bet that it will be PERFECT for steaming them, will have to try!!!),
you all might be interested in learning that Jeffrey Alford and Naomi
Duguid are about to release a new book, BEYOND THE GREAT WALL, which
explores the territories immediately adjacent to the Chinese motherland
(most if not all incorporated in present day China). These include
Tibet, the Silk Road oases of Xinjiang and Qinghai, Inner Mongolia, and
Yunnan and Guizhou. The ethnic groups who inhabit these areas are
quite distinct from the Han Chinese — Tibetans, Mongols, Uighurs, Miao,
Hui, Dong, Yi, Dai, and others (!!) — and I'm truly looking foward to
it. The jacket (which I've seen), promises many noodle dishes and,
naturally, recipes for momos. Publication date is May 1. 
  

    
Oooohhh!  They are the authors of my very favorite cookbook,
Flatbreads and Flavors (at the top of my desert island list).  Yay!
  

    
No Tuva?
  

    
TUVA. Not mentioned in the material I was given. However, they may be
included in "and others." 
  

    
John, I would love to get my hands on these Inspector Chen books. Qiu
Xiaolong...*checks Amazon quickly*...yes! Brilliant. I need something
to feed a mystery fixation as I've gobbled up all of Poirot and
Cadfael. 

DRUNKEN SHRIMP--Zui xia! Ah yes. Most enjoyable. Delicate little baby
shrimp tossing about in a bowl of wine. Crunch the shells along with
the tender, translucent bodies of the hapless flailing victims. Their
spasmodic twitching--which increased to a brief but frantic pace with
the first bite-- sends piquant little flicks of rice wine to the back
of your throat, making it easy to cough up your portion even as the
half-animated flesh is sliding down your gullet.

...and yes, I'm being a bit tongue-in-cheek here.(Or more than a
little.) I'll stop with the Dr. Lecter-esque remarks. In all sincerity,
this is a very good dish, if one that demands a certain small amount
of...elan... on the diner's part. It's one that I often think of when
recalling the Chinese love of textures. Raw shrimp do not (to me) have
any special flavor, but when they're as small as in zui xia, the
contrast of the silky, jelly-like interior flesh with the small crunch
of the just slightly resistant outer shell--everything flavored with
rice wine--is very sensual and pleasing. Delightful, really. (I don't
mind the twitching; hell, makes for interactive snackin.') I don't know
whether one is supposed to spit out the shell, but I don't. Down the
hatch, says me. 

I am very much intrigued with this notion, which at this moment seems
very much on the money, that as Debunix said, "the cruelty we perceive
is just completely incomprehensible to those who are doing the eating."
What kinds of assumptions about the eater are working behind the
scenes?  

BEYOND THE GREAT WALL--Definitely getting my hands on this, probably
to read more than to cook out of. Although I have to admit to a bit of
thoroughly immature, aw-shucks-they-wrote-about-it-all-FIRST mild
jealousy, I'm so glad to see people exploring the cuisines of the many
Chinese "minorities." I dearly miss good Uyghur food, which opened my
eyes to the deliciousness that is roasted mutton and hand-pulled
noodles. (Well, not that we ate SO well on the road in Xinjiang. Mostly
it was pilafs greasy with mutton fat and kebabs that had been
languishing in the sun all day. But there were times...oh yes indeed.
The grapes! And the naan! And the melons!...) And Guizhou food is just.
so. delightful. i could go on... I look forward to reading this.
  

    
Amen to everything that Rachel said about the food of the Chinese
minorities.  The yogurt in Urumqi is the best I've ever had... creamy
and nutty and luscious.  And I still drool whenever I think about their
fruit and the breads!  

I am going to be preordering "Beyond the Great Wall"; thanks for the
heads up, John, and thanks for all these mouthwatering descriptions of
Tibetan food, everyone.
  

    
They never seem to have yak butter at Whole Foods...
  

    
DRUNKEN SHRIMP, CONT. Rachel, thanks so much for filling in the
blanks. What you say makes sense and, should the opportunity arise,
tempts me to try the dish. You say "élan" — but it must require a great
deal of dexterity as well! 

Also, in responding to the comments about eating the eye-rolling fish,
you ask "What kinds of assumptions about the eater are working behind
the scenes?" The phrasing of this is a little oblique, but if you're
asking what sort of personal judgment >I< make about it, I don't really
have a coherent answer. Obviously, I would have a hard time dealing
with the dish if it were served to me, but, again, this is because I
don't understand (or respond to) the pleasure it provides to people who
enjoy it. I'm not a vegetarian; I'm fully aware of the inherent
cruelty built into life itself; and I know I live in a country so
wealthy that not only are many protected from ever having to witness it
but that we can afford to protect, or try to protect, other species
from experiencing it, as well. Still, it is there, if you look for it.
All we have is the comfort of an illusion, but in this world illusions
can be very potent.
  

    
...and necessary. Happy holidays to all of you.
  

    
The corn was frosted
Taters is scarce
An I lost my best houn'dog
But jest the same
Christmas is Christmas
~ from a linoleum print by Gustave Baumann (1923)

Have a joyous day! John 
  

    
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night as I head off to bed
(but not before a Christmas episode of something or another.) 

You're right, John, my phrasing there WAS oblique--that was really
more of a half-articulated idea that I need to chew on (heh?) much
more. But now, to sleep...
  

    
May everyone's Christmas be delicious!
  

    
Hi Everyone ~ I'm going to log out for good on December 31st. I've
enjoyed our conversation! Any last words? 
  

    
Leaving too soon!

I've had a lot of fun with this conversation, but sadly, secondary to
a mad rush couple of weeks at work am having to return "serious pig" to
the library unfinished--someone else must have reserved it after being
engrossed by Mouth Wide Open.

Over the christmas holiday I had a dialog with a recipe myself, and am
pleased to report that the attempt to transform coq au vin to pig au
vin was largely successful, and more tasty than the corresponding
chicken dish would have been.   And no bacon was required to get the
process going, since a nice pork shoulder provided plenty of fat for
browning and sauteeing.

The attempt was necessary because my cookbook collection is very light
on the sort of cookbooks organized by chapters on pork, beef, poultry,
seafood, and vegetables.  And to my surprise there was nothing in my
Italian or French cookbooks along these lines either--no simple pork
stews with wine.

Do you think that is because it is a dish no one makes, or instead
something so simple that no one bothers to write it down?
  

    
I'll be sorry to be bowing out of this conversation early because the
computer and all gets disconnected tonight in preparation for
tomorrow's move and won't be back up until Jan 2 (if -- big if --
Deutsche Telekom can arrange it), although I'm hoping for wireless
access somewhere over the weekend. 

It's been illuminating and fun, and I'd like to thank John and all of
the participants for making it so.