Raisins - The Power of Good and Evil

Oh, raisins. Dried grapes. Little bundles of sweet fruit energy. I should love you unconditionally, enjoy you scattered into a bowl of flax flakes with Vitamin D almond milk poured on top. Your health benefits are touted all over, even in the medical advice column in the Seattle Times, which recommends soaking raisins in gin to relieve arthritis pain.

But let me put my stake in the ground right here and proclaim that raisins DO NOT BELONG IN SWEETS! It's a crime against nature and Dionysus. They're chewy and have a slight musky bitterness that just ruins sweets. I still remember as a child my Aunt yelling at me for refusing to eat oatmeal with raisins in it. Just make me clean the bathroom floor with a toothbrush, it would be an easier punishment.

I can't stand raisins in any kind of desert or breakfast cereal - they make me gag! Stay away from my scone, eschew my eclair, clear out of my cookies, and protest my pie! I don't believe in raisins in my sweet things!

I don't mind a handful of raisins by themselves, but add them to something else and it's like the scene in "Gremlins" when the evil creatures jump out of the fluffy cute one.

And don't get me started on Oatmeal Raisin cookies. According to a website I'm making up in my mind right now, they were first created as a torture device during the Spanish Inquisition. And as soon as I create the webpage, you can tell everyone that you read about it on the Interweb.

Raisins in a cookie from a distance can look like chocolate chips. Don't let them fool you! I think that's part of my hatred - I've been fooled once too often into thinking I was about to enjoy a nice chocolate chip cookie, only to discover a treacherous Oatmeal Raisin cookie polluting my mouth.

You're Cute, but stay the hell away from my desserts and breakfast food

However, SAVORY is a horse of a different color. J'adore stewed raisins in a pork roast. One of my favorite dishes is a chicken dish they serve at Salvadore in Seattle - Involtini di Pollo. I used to say it was my own "Invitation to Chicken," until I married an Italian and learned Involtini means stuffed chicken breast. The chicken was flattened, breaded, sauteed, and rolled into parmesan, white wine, cream, garlic, and raisins. It is delicious and part of the joy is the unexpected sweetness of the raisin.

I'm not sure what it says about me that I only like something when it's unexpected, when it complements the darker elements. I'm sure a psychological profile could be written of me based on that alone. Until then, remember the Cardinal Rules of Raisins:

- Stay out of my sweets!

- You're okay alone!

- Stew in my savory!

Remember these and all will be right with the world.

Condiment Grrl

A Condiment Threat to our Homeland Security

Well, people, I have been bad about blogging, it hasn't been for a dearth of condiments, but more for a dearth of new cravings. I have been in a condiment rut - only desiring the proven toppings for familiar dishes - Robert Rothschild caper, lemon, mustard sauce to go with my sausages. Soy sauce and vinegar on my rice. Lots and lots and lots of black truffle salt on my salads.

How I love black truffle salt. It makes every salad taste like an exotic found meal - a deep hint at what more there could be.

I've been working hard, hence my condiment rut. It's hard to open yourself to new experiences, when you have a short time to wind down and you often want to take the path of least resistance to the condiment that will relax me and allow my meal to achieve its maximum desirability.

However, now that summer's here, I am starting to open to new things, new flavors. My birthday was last weekend and some lovely foodie friends gifted me with a lucious looking jar of Artichoke and Seville Orange Chutney. Mmmmm....so evocative, so promising.

As I was at my mother's to visit Baby Balsamic who is spending two weeks with Big Mama Salsa (aka my mother), I packed the jar in my bag to return to the frozen Northwest. This condiment just might lift me from my accessorizing doldrums.

I didn't count on Homeland Security. (No one expects the Spanish Inquisition!)

I was taking my bags through the x-ray machine, when an earnest young officer asked to go through my bag. Well, what am I going to say? He starts flinging my underwear and pink pajama bottoms all over the table, but then finds the offending jar - my NEW CHUTNEY!

"It's sealed. See, I never opened it." I don't know why I thought that would make a difference.

He looked sheepish and almost handed it back to me, then stopped. "I'm sorry. It's over the amount. We'll have to take it."

OOOOOHHHH NOOOOO! But what could I do? Those are the rules.

Years ago, I was traveling out of Israel after a friend's wedding. As you would expect, there were very very long security lines. A man was complaining bitterly to his wife, until a woman in front of him turned and said "Would you prefer there were a bomb on the plane?"

I'd rather they do all they need to do to keep me and all other travelers safe.

But, the memory of that lost condiment did drive me to the store to purchase a new jar of Madras Curry mustard for that exotic touch. Just the promise of it drove me out of my rut.

And as for the young security guard - he seemed quite sharp, but you have to hope that they're being sharp when real bad people try and get bad things through security.

Maybe he went home and consumed the my Artichoke and Seville Orange Chutney. Maybe it's mix of vegetables and savory flavor improved his health and the oranges sharpened his eyesight. Maybe the next day his improved senses were able to stop a bad guy at Security.

And all thanks to Condiments. Now I have to go work on a screenplay.

Condiment Grrl