Sorry for the delayed update - what a week it has been, full of termites, graduations, more termites, exams and grades.
Last Friday (a week ago), John and I decided to have another French Meal, only we were going to use Julie Powell's suggestion of cooking liver, which is apparently a very sexy meal, and what relationship can't use a very sexy meal every now and again.
Powell describes liver as "the silky soul of steak" (220), but I should point out that Powell had her liver on her birthday, after seeing a great show, and not after coming home after a long day of grading and grocery shopping to a house covered in dead bugs.
When termites swarm, they go everywhere. When termites swarm, they seek water especially. When termites swarm, they die. They die everywhere. On your furniture, on your books, on your windows, on your carpet, on your clean dishes, on your dirty dishes, and especially in your sink. Fortunately, cleaning up the termites distracted us from the fact that we were only able to find very thinly sliced frozen calves liver at our local grocery store (we opted out of going to the Fresh Market because we weren't sure they'd have anything better meat wise, and the butcher was closed), which then had to thaw, which results in a pool of red juices appearing on the plate.
After the termites were clean and the liver thawed, and the spinach cleaned, blanched, chopped, cooked, and finally in the process of being braised (Make spinach the Julia Child way once - it is so damn good, but it is so much effort), we were lucky that the liver recipe was very simple. You brown it, coat it in a mustard sauce, cover it in bread crumbs and broil it very quickly.
Handling the thawed, overly juicy, very thin and very fragile liver was tricky until it was browned, and it was a little disgusting and disturbing. I thought about the chicken livers my mother and I love to fry up and eat, and realized that this liver was a whole different animal. I only let my thoughts linger on the function of the liver, and the potential diet of the calf it came from for a moment before deciding to focus instead on the wine I was drinking.
The liver was good. Very good. Not "silky soul of steak" good, although it might have been if we had the requested 1/2 inch thick slices rather than the thin pieces we did have. It might have been better if I wasn't so tired. If I had known what state my house would be in when I arrived home that night, I would have planned on something else. Lesson learned: always have a back-up plan.
The context in which food is eaten affects the food's taste so much. I've eaten offal before: I loved Haggis when I ate it in Scotland in high school. I've already mentioned my inherited love for chicken liver. I wasn't too put off by it, but the fanciness and richness of the preparation of this meal did not fit the mood. Sometimes food can set the mood, and sometimes the mood can ruin the food. Tonight, I'm making a MtAoFC recipe for eggs, but mostly as an addition to our brinner (breakfast for dinner) menu. It's not complicated, which is good, because I'm tired. Too often, I try to do to much, to be all things to too many people. The liver recipe should have been put off to a night when it would have been more thoroughly enjoyed, and last Friday should have been spent as this Monday was when the termites swarmed again: eating out rather than in. When I'm tired, food doesn't need to be work; it needs to be comfort. It doesn't need to be rich and complex; it needs to be simple and flexible. Food is the last thing that should cause us stress.
No comments:
Post a Comment