Text 17053, 151 rader
Skriven 2008-11-29 09:57:00 av Dave Drum (1:124/311)
Ärende: I'm Not A Chef
======================
From today's New York Times:

No Chefs in My Kitchen

By MARCELLA HAZAN
Published: November 29, 2008

"MY husband is such a great chef," my hairdresser was saying.

"Oh," I said. "What restaurant does he work in?"

"No, no, no, he doesn’t work in a restaurant. He is an electrician. But he does
amazing things on the grill when we cook out during the weekend."

This happens a lot. "Chef" has pretty much replaced "gourmet cook" to describe
anyone who cooks well. How many times over the last few days, for instance, did
you hear it used to refer to the person who prepared a Thanksgiving meal?

I must confess that the growing use of the word bothers me.

For starters, "chef" is a job description — a chef is someone who cooks
professionally, usually in command of a restaurant’s kitchen brigade, and
depending on the brigade’s size, he or she might not even be doing any of the
actual cooking.

But I’m troubled by the word for another reason, one that goes beyond the
precision of language and gets to the heart of how we experience food.

When my family and I ate out in the Italy of my youth and early decades of my
marriage, we would look for any plain trattoria where we could find the kind of
cooking that was closest to what my mother and father were putting on the table
at home. The person making the meal may have been the owner or his wife or his
mother, or someone working in total anonymity. He or she was never referred to
as the chef, but as il cuoco or la cuoca, the cook.

This was the old world of Mediterranean family cooking, a world where
satisfying flavors had been arrived at over time and by consensus. That world
hasn’t disappeared, but it has receded, making room for a parallel world, one
where food is often entertainment, spectacle, news, fashion, science, a world
in which surprise — whether it’s on the plate or beyond it — is vital. This is
the world of chefs.

I have known, and collaborated with, quite a few chefs. I don’t in the least
begrudge them their laurels. Theirs is a life of sacrifice, and the fame they
achieve comes with a price. It is no fault of theirs that we have chosen to
fall to our knees before their work, revering it as the highest standard by
which culinary accomplishment is to be measured. But this focus on chefs runs
the risk of leaving us disoriented. What matters about food is what happens
when we put it into our mouths. A caring family cook is just as capable as a
skilled chef at turning that first bite into a blissful moment.

The food Americans eat that is made fresh at home by someone who is close to
them is shrinking compared with food consumed at restaurants or prepared
outside. And while eating out or taking in may save us time or bring us
enjoyment, I would argue that it deprives us of something important.

I am my family’s cook. It is the food prepared and shared at home that, for
more than 50 years, has provided a solid center for our lives. In the context
of the values that cement human relations, the clamor of restaurants and the
facelessness of takeout are no match for what the well-laid family table has to
offer. A restaurant will never strengthen familial bonds.

Which is why, as we come together over the holidays, we should take a moment to
think about how we might become cooks again. We could even begin, in these
financially straitened times, by replacing store-bought presents with meals
cooked at home.

After all, what experience of food can compare with eating something good made
by someone you can hug? Like other forms of human affection, cooking delivers
its truest and most enduring gifts when it is savored in intimacy — prepared
not by a chef but by a cook and with love.

Marcella Hazan is the author, most recently, of "Amarcord: Marcella Remembers."

MMMMM----- Recipe via Meal-Master (tm) v8.06

      Title: Simple Veal Pasta Sauce
 Categories: Pasta, Sauces, Italian
      Yield: 1 Batch

    3/4 lb Fresh, ripe tomatoes
           +=OR=+
      1 c  canned imported Italian plum
           - tomatoes, cut up, drained
      3 tb Butter
      1 tb Vegetable oil
    1/4 c  Chopped onion
    1/2 lb Ground veal
           Salt & black pepper, ground
    1/4 c  Fresh grated Parmigiano
           - Reggiano cheese

  For some time I had been thinking: How can I pare down a 
  classic meat sauce for those occasions when I have neither 
  the time to make nor the voracity to consume a full-scale 
  ragù? I replaced beef with veal; eliminated the milk, the 
  wine, the carrot, and the celery; and reduced the cooking 
  time from several hours to half of one. It is as easy to 
  take as it is to do. Is it a favorite dish? Sure — it is 
  my favorite simple meat sauce.

  Suggested pasta: The ideal carrier for this simple meat 
  sauce is a homemade noodle, in particular one scented with 
  rosemary and sage, cut into fettuccine or tonnarelli.  
  Boxed dry pasta in a short tubular shape such as penne 
  or maccheroncini can be a satisfactory alternative.

  If you are using fresh tomatoes, peel them by dipping them 
  in boiling water for 1 minute, then squeeze off their skin. 
  Halve the tomatoes, scoop out their seeds without squeezing, 
  and chop up coarsely.

  Put 2 tablespoons of butter and the vegetable oil in a sm 
  saucepan and turn on the heat to medium high. Cook the 
  onion, stirring from time to time, until it becomes colored 
  a pale gold.

  Add the ground veal, and turn it over several times, using 
  a wooden spoon, to brown it all over.

  Add the cut-up tomato, salt, and several grindings of pepper, 
  and with your wooden spoon turn over all ingredients two or 
  three times. Cook at a steady but gentle simmer for 15 to 
  20 minutes.

  Cook and drain the pasta and toss immediately and thoroughly 
  with the sauce, swirling into it the remaining tablespoon 
  of butter and the grated Parmesan.

  Ahead-of-time note: The sauce may be cooked a day in advance 
  and refrigerated in a tightly sealed container or in a bowl 
  under plastic wrap. When reheating, add a tb of water, 
  bring to a gentle simmer, stir occasionally, and cook until 
  hot through and through.

  by Marcella Hazan; Marcella Cucina

  Epicurious | October 1997

  Yield: Makes enough sauce for 1 pound of pasta, making 4 
  large or 6 small servings

  MM Format by Dave Drum - 27 November 2008

  Uncle Dirty Dave's Archives

MMMMM

... "As the dew forms upon the morning rose, I bid you farewell."
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