Trying New Things

Perhaps this blog might unintentionally turn into a series of posts about all of the foods that I force my boyfriend to try. I know that I said that I wanted to write about cooking, but I find myself really impressed at the amount of things that I've gotten Tony to try. And when I say that, what I mean is that I'm surprised at the level of trust he's placed in me when it comes to food, and I'm proud of how he continues to pursue new experiences. The fact that he gives me credit for playing a role in his recent food adventures makes me feel pretty good about things.

That said, I was pretty sure that I was never going to able to get Tony to try sushi, and the fact that he did marks such a momentous occasion for me that I felt it simply had to be cataloged in the annals of history (or, you know, this blog).

We were having a frank discussion about trying new foods, and he made a comment that he's been really loving trying new things and how glad he is that I've encouraged him to do so. As the conversation evolved, sushi emerged as a topic. I pointed out that he's been so interested in trying new things that maybe he should give sushi a try. He could be surprised. He's been surprised so far, right? So when he agreed, I naturally assumed that it was to pacify me because the tone of his agreement was not exactly the kind of tone that encourages one to have faith in the agreement.

Much to my surprise, he actually tried sushi when we went out for lunch a few days ago. We had selected a fusion restaurant in our area that we both really enjoy, Zing. (If you're in the South Bend/Mishawaka area, I highly suggest Zing. Their ads and menus are full of comical grammatical errors, but their food is some of the best Asian fusion I've ever had.) While selecting appetizers, I suggested sushi. He apprehensively agreed. To be frank, I was surprised we even got that far.

We selected tuna maki. He had asked me how raw tuna tasted a few days before during our sushi discussion, so we opted to remove his curiosity and replace it with experience. I truly believe that he had been expecting it to taste like decaying flesh because the look of surprise on his face after he put it in his mouth was riveting. He said, "It doesn't have a lot of flavor."

Tony's meal: Yaki soba.

He had spent so much time expecting it to be disgusting that the overarching blandness of it was a huge shock to him. The thing about sushi is that it tastes like the fish itself. If the fish is good quality, the rawness of it isn't going to have a great deal of flavor to it. It gives you a way to enjoy the fish for itself. (It also means that you really have to have the freshest of fish because old fish makes for some horrifying sushi.) For me, the texture of sushi is also part of the enjoyment of the dish. It has such a unique mouth feel that nothing else has ever really been able to match or compare to it.

My meal: coconut prawn

He only ate one piece, but I still consider it a victory. We had a great meal together. He tried something new, and I got to show him, once again, that he can place his culinary trust in me and my opinions. I must have done something right because he's suggested we have sushi for dinner tonight, and who am I to disagree?

Follow Through

Second entry. I'm actually attempting to commit to this. Perhaps writing is good.

Tonight, I made BBQ pulled pork for dinner. As today was my day off, I opted for a lazy way of cooking. One of my favorite things to do is just throw some ingredients in a crock pot and let it cook on low all day. I'm always excited to come home and just see what heat and time have created for me. It's like a surprise, but it shouldn't really be that surprising I guess. To date, I have yet to be disappointed.

It began with a pork roast and a bottle of Stubb's BBQ sauce. I set the crock pot on low, and then I ran a host of errands and spent egregious amounts of money on things I didn't really need. I know that a lot of foodies tend to think that the best foods come from fresh ingredients, and they would be right. However, I do think that there's a great deal to be said for something as simple as bottled condiments like BBQ sauce. It might be because I'm not really much of a foodie. Sometimes, I just want processed, packaged crap food. I don't think there's any harm in embracing that.

Perhaps I'd be more judgmental of the BBQ sauce if it wasn't for the fact that I've been to the source. Stubb's is a great place in Austin, Texas. They're a great music venue, and they have a really wonderful presence in the community. (Austin is a pretty amazing city, and I'm jealous every single day that my twin brother gets to live there.) They've got amazing food, and I love the fact that the modern age provides me with the ability to go to a local supermarket and pick up a little piece of Austin. There's definitely something to be said for that.

At any rate, dinner was fairly simple. The roast was tender enough to be fork-shredded by the time my friends and I came back from shopping. We had green beans and salads with it. Since there's plenty left over, we'll be having it again this week, which will be perfect for our busy lives and occasionally conflicting schedules.

Inauguration

I've been interested in writing ever since I was a child. In fact, I even made the brief foray into the scholastic life of an English major before life itself got in my way, and I had to withdraw from school and get a job. I've made many broken attempts at taking a stab at writing something more meaningful than a shopping list, but I always seem to abandon ship somewhere along the way.

I'd like to set the bar low. I have a little bit of an expectation that this project is a project that I might drop like a smug rapper drops a mic after an epic rap battle. That said, my boyfriend (manfriend?) is constantly encouraging me to write, to be creative, and to embrace the process. Perhaps if I write about something that I have to do every day, like cooking, then I'll be more interested in keeping it up.

Tonight, over a dinner of chicken piccata, we had a conversation that was almost reminiscent of the conversation between Julie Powell and her husband in Julie and Julia. It went something like this:

Me: This is what I should write about. Trying new things in the kitchen.
Him: So write about it.
Me: Maybe I will...

For once, I'm actually exhibiting some follow-through. Let me just explain why this was happening. Tony, my manfriend, had never tried chicken piccata until tonight. He's one of the pickiest eaters I've ever known. (The man doesn't even like cheese, and it isn't a matter of lactose intolerance.) Lately, he's been more adventurous, and when he finds a dish that he's interested in trying, I'll make it for us for dinner. As a result of his recent inspiration to branch out, we've been making a lot of new dishes in the kitchen. I figure since he's been willing to branch out culinarily, I should be willing to branch out artistically. There's balance. We're both putting ourselves out there, perhaps to be grossly disappointed.

I mean to take pictures of the things that I make, but since this blog was a last minute decision, I am lacking in pictures for this entry. However, the chicken piccata was a smashing success. I made it for the first time this evening, following Rachael Ray's recipe (found here--though there's also a modification of the same recipe in this month's issue of her magazine). I used the recipe more as a guide than a religion, and it turned out pretty much perfectly.

Chicken piccata tastes like summer to me. It's has a fresh citrus edge. The parsley, which has always tasted a little like grass to me, gives it a little something extra that reminds me of summer evenings. The capers add the salty, briny bite that really complete it. Plus, it's made with wine, and I find that most things made with wine are exceptionally delicious.

Tony declared it the best thing that I've cooked for him thus far, which makes it a great triumph indeed. It's a recipe that we'll be repeating in our kitchen.