Sometimes, Less is More

It's true. There are times when I think that maybe I go overboard in my food accessories. It's Artisan Cheese month at my favorite fancy-pants high end market, but god help my checkbook if a Whole Foods ever opens up here in Tacoma. I would somehow create a tent camoflaged as a giant bag of wheat flour -- because most people who shop there now are gluten-free - and live in the prepared foods aisle, only showing myself at night when I roll out of my bag to grab another tub of spinach dip, made with parmesan cheese and the captured giggles of pinenut fairies.

Okay, stop. This post is about not going overboard. It's about enjoying the simplicity of a dish; on occasion, that's not a bad thing. Yesterday, I prepared some yummy appetizers for Mr. Mustard on his return from rehearsal, including a delicious artisan cheese (mentioned above, before I started rambling on) called "Beecher's Flagship." I placed gluten-packed crackers on a plate, with a bowl of roasted tomatoes on the side. Then I opened the fridge and started pulling out some possible good accompaniments to the cheese: Marionberry Chipotle jam, Balsamic gel, and truffle paste. I then worked my way through all of the various pastes, slathering them onto the cheese and each time, I was disappointed. The cheese was strong and flavorful enough on its own. My condiments tasted as bitter as my hubris.

Here's the perfect sequence of bites:

1. A bite of cheese.
2. Sip of lovely Spanish wine.
3. Roast tomato on gluten-packed cracker.
4. Sip of wine.
5. Sip of wine.
6. Cheese.
7. Wine.

And on and on and on.

Of course, at this point, we could always make a case for the wine being a condiment for the cheese, but that's sort of a chicken/egg argument. Is the cheese a condiment for the wine? Or are they just as they are, and there's no labels man, just two foods that compliment each other perfectly.

Condiment Grrl

A Penchant for French's

Now we all know that I am a big fat liberal fancy schmancy, wine and cheese lovin' liberal with a preference for fancy pants, expensive condiments made with ingredients like tumeric, truffle oil and the tears of Larry Craig. Hee hee. I just made that one up. But that's a different blog posting, "Condiments to salve your wounded spirits after you've been caught soliciting anonymous man-on-man action in a public restroom and you're a bigoted homophobic Republican Senator."

Perhaps the Senator and I would share a bottle of French's mustard, the ubiquitous yellow substance found in baseball parks and most suburban homes. Sweeter and lighter than the murkier and more French Dijon mustard, it still has quite a bite and can induce extreme "mustard whoops" (from the Condiment Grrl dictionary: "a loud whooping sound emitted by someone who's just imbibed a large spoonful of mustard."). The Senator would be able to express his grief at being caught out with his pants down and cover it up by saying it was all due to the mustard. For me, it helps me get over this nasty cough that I just can't shake. But a dip of chicken or mashed potatoes (OMG -- mashed potatoes with mustard -- one word: SOGOOD!) and my chest feels a bit clearer and I am able to at least contemplate a Suduko puzzle.

You see, mustard contains turmeric, which has been found to reduce the prospect of Alzheimer's. It's in curry, so Alzheimer's is virtually unheard of in India, where they still die of quaint third-world diseases like Malaria.

Tonight, I'm going to try French's on a London Broil. Yummy!

I don't know what the Senator is trying, but I'm sure it's not what he really wants.

Condiment Grrl

The Red and The White

So, this weekend, I totally party-crashed on an extended neighbor's 40th birthday party. Like totally party crashed. We all just "happened to be walking down the street" when we saw people we knew going into a house for a barbeque. I sent Baby Balsamic in first to test the waters (now, who can ask the incredible cuteness that is Baby Balsamic to leave a party?), then we followed and had soon settled ourselves, stolen drink in hand, around the buffet. Luckily, they're great people and even tolerated me hovering around the preparation of the Caprese salad.

"Do you have Balsamic vinegar?" I asked, because if I'm going to deign to eat from a buffet where I've crashed, the Caprese salad had darn well better be dressed with Balsamic vinegar. Luckily, they were civilized and not only did they have regular Balsamic vinegar, the host offered me white Balsamic vinegar, which I have never consciously tasted. Now, that doesn't mean that I have gone on fermented condiment binges and ended up being photographed imbibing all kinds of mysterious pickled things, and was later blackmailed. Just don't Google "CondimentGrrl, Celery Salt, Tequila, and Mario." You don't want to know the details.

I have tried white Balsamic Vinegar in the past, but only when I was out of the regular kind and desparately seeking something to dress my salad. But this weekend, I had a kind host who tolerated me taking a spoonful of white balsamic, cleansing my palate with wine, then a spoonful of red Balsamic. The white balsamic tasted like a cross between regular Balsamic and Red Wine vinegar. Definately lighter and less sweet, although I couldn't help but wonder if I was missing out on those antitoxicants that are in wine and deep red substances and prevent cancer and stretch marks and general bad things. I researched the ingredients in White Balsamic and found that it's made from white wine vinegar and grape must versus red wine vinegar and grape must.

Of course, I have a feeling that the traditional Italian Balsamic makers who spend years transferring the Balsamic from wood to wood, barrel to smaller barrel, would spit on the White variety. However, the website I found also suggests that it's better for salad dressing because it doesn't overwhelm the other ingredients. Pish Tosh, I say to this. Tell that to someone who doesn't add Anchovy paste to her everyday salad dressing. But that's another blog post.

This makes me think of white chocolate versus dark chocolate. I'm a deep, dark chocolate kind of girl and I require chocolate that's about 95% cocoa. It's like a very, very, very dry martini: just hold the bottle of vermouth next to the glass with the gin. Just hold the sugar cannister next to the pot of simmering cocoa beans, then throw it away. I like white chocolate, but it's like the whole powerhouse experience of the deep cocoa hitting my taste buds is lacking. It's a lighter experience, and I guess sometimes that's a good thing.

But not according to Mario.

CondimentGrrl

The Kosher Japanese connection

As our world becomes smaller and smaller, our cultures merge and marry, foam and thicken and churn out new and strange products for us to consume and merge into our busy lives. I will never forget the meal I had a few years ago in New York at a Cuban-Chinese restaurant. Actually, I lied, I'll never forget that I HAD a meal at a Cuban-Chinese restaurant. I can barely remember what I ate, but I do remember there were plantains involved, because it was Cuban cuisine.

Baby Balsamic and I journeyed south to the Bay Area to visit with friends and family. When I opened Big Mama Salsa's refrigerator, it's like remembering why I am who I am -- she has about five billion condiments (frugal, compared to my 12 billion, but still significant). Some of them have been in there since I was a child. I had to retire a couple bottles of marinades and dressings that went bad when Reagan was still president.

But there are a few that Big Mama Salsa keeps buying and using, but feel like they've been in there forever. And there's some that I have passed over, time after time, because I was in the mood for something else or I was just being rebellious because I wasn't going to use my mother's condiments. It's like dying my hair blue and dating the guy who drove the hearse who called himself Ren, short for Renegade. Those were square condiments, man!

We were trying to simply and quickly barbeque some pork chops, so pulled out a bottle of Soy Vay Veri Veri Teriyaki sauce, marinated the chops for about an hour, tossed them on the grill and finished them off. Perfect! Sweet, but tangy. The sauce is kosher with nice chunks of garlic floating around in the thick almost chocolately looking darkness. According to the website, "the basic ingredients in Soy Vay are an imported Hoi Sin sauce plus other spices; a combination of soya bean, garlic, sugar, vinegar, sesame seed and chili." And you can really taste each ingredient.

Although, I don't really get the Jewish connection except that it's Kosher and a cute marketing idea, it's good sauce. And I can like it and it makes me realize that maybe I am a grown-up now and I don't have to reject all things my mom likes, except maybe those multi-colored rap pants she's so enamored of. I still hate those.

Condiment Grrl