kitchen confidence
Nov. 14th, 2007 08:47 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
constanceI first read Anthony Bourdain's Kitchen Confidential a while back and adored it, in a dear-jesus-I-may-never-eat-in-a-restaurant-again sort of way (though I've definitely gotten over my horror since then); but then this week on impulse I downloaded it on audio, and just listening to Bourdain's gonzo New Yorker reading improves the whole book about a hundredfold. Some authors have distinctive voices on paper, and some have distinctive (and, you know, listenable) voices, but it's rare to find someone with both. So now Anthony Bourdain is on my list of authors, with people like Sarah Vowell and David Sedaris, who forever after when I read their books I'll hear the words in my head, in their voices.
One thing that Bourdain says, when he's talking about stuff you need in your kitchen if you want to even hope to pretend that you can play with the big boys, is that you absolutely have to use fresh spices -- that the gunk in the spice-rack jars tastes like pencil shavings, or some such thing. And in theory I agree with this pronouncement. Fresh spices not only taste better, but man, they smell fabulous, too. If I could rub myself in fresh oregano like a cat in catnip, I totally would; as it is, I love to rub it between my fingers and sniff. And the same with rosemary. And so on. And of course I understand that I will brand myself an utter philistine if I'm ever so profoundly misguided as to use store-bought curry powder! God forbid!
Ahem. I agree, as I said before I got distracted, in theory, but in practice I'm lazy, and besides, there're some spice blends that I would find very hard to do without. One of them is just a recent discovery, Cavender's All Purpose Greek Seasoning (A Tantalizing Taste Treat!) (An Ancient Greek Formula!). I'm a little embarrassed -- more than a little -- to admit to you that every day this week, I've come home and poured it all over a chicken breast to stir-fry and eat with vegetables. Or on salad. Or over brown rice. Or over pasta. Possibly if ice cream weren't so dear, diet-wise, I'd be eating vanilla ice cream mixed with Greekly seasoned chicken, that is how much I love this stuff.
But then again, this isn't exactly surprising, because the truth is that I get into these fervent and committed ruts and find it hard to pull myself out of them again. I reread several series of books once a year and likely will continue to read them once a year for many years to come. I watch a film fifty times and am as delighted by it on the fiftieth viewing as I was on the first. I eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches every night for weeks straight with unalloyed pleasure. I paint my toenails the same color for months on end.
In short, I figure that if something makes me happy now, it will always make me happy; and though I have been disappointed in this regard on rare occasions, for the most part it works very well for me as an M.O. I do love most of the things I love with a tenacious and wondering passion. So: if you promise not to disappoint me, Cavender's All-Purpose Greek Seasoning (A Tantalizing Taste Treat!) (An Ancient Greek Formula!), I will promise never to forsake you for fresh spices. And Anthony Bourdain, much as I love him, can fuck right off.
One thing that Bourdain says, when he's talking about stuff you need in your kitchen if you want to even hope to pretend that you can play with the big boys, is that you absolutely have to use fresh spices -- that the gunk in the spice-rack jars tastes like pencil shavings, or some such thing. And in theory I agree with this pronouncement. Fresh spices not only taste better, but man, they smell fabulous, too. If I could rub myself in fresh oregano like a cat in catnip, I totally would; as it is, I love to rub it between my fingers and sniff. And the same with rosemary. And so on. And of course I understand that I will brand myself an utter philistine if I'm ever so profoundly misguided as to use store-bought curry powder! God forbid!
Ahem. I agree, as I said before I got distracted, in theory, but in practice I'm lazy, and besides, there're some spice blends that I would find very hard to do without. One of them is just a recent discovery, Cavender's All Purpose Greek Seasoning (A Tantalizing Taste Treat!) (An Ancient Greek Formula!). I'm a little embarrassed -- more than a little -- to admit to you that every day this week, I've come home and poured it all over a chicken breast to stir-fry and eat with vegetables. Or on salad. Or over brown rice. Or over pasta. Possibly if ice cream weren't so dear, diet-wise, I'd be eating vanilla ice cream mixed with Greekly seasoned chicken, that is how much I love this stuff.
But then again, this isn't exactly surprising, because the truth is that I get into these fervent and committed ruts and find it hard to pull myself out of them again. I reread several series of books once a year and likely will continue to read them once a year for many years to come. I watch a film fifty times and am as delighted by it on the fiftieth viewing as I was on the first. I eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches every night for weeks straight with unalloyed pleasure. I paint my toenails the same color for months on end.
In short, I figure that if something makes me happy now, it will always make me happy; and though I have been disappointed in this regard on rare occasions, for the most part it works very well for me as an M.O. I do love most of the things I love with a tenacious and wondering passion. So: if you promise not to disappoint me, Cavender's All-Purpose Greek Seasoning (A Tantalizing Taste Treat!) (An Ancient Greek Formula!), I will promise never to forsake you for fresh spices. And Anthony Bourdain, much as I love him, can fuck right off.
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Date: 2007-11-15 08:57 pm (UTC)And I'm also hearing you on the trials and tribulations of growing herbs. I've tried several times, but I almost always end up killing everything.