Lobstah!

One of my all-time favorite treats on east coast visits to one very special Bostonian are Kelly's lobster rolls (preferably enjoyed on Revere Beach with a cup of chowdah and an ice cold brew).  This past weekend while visiting said Bostonian I once again splurged on that delicious lobster roll--stuffed to the gills with huge, meaty chunks of claw and tail, perfectly coated in mayo.  It got me thinking, one of the best parts of being a (newbie) east coaster is the lobster...(these bad boys to the left became a beautiful bisque)

In fact, lobster was not always a delicacy in the United States.  Colonial New England saw its shores literally bursting with lobster, to the point that colonists saw them as a throw-away food.  As society developed and class systems emerged, the natural abundance of lobster easily lent themselves to a cheap and thereby "lower class" food.  Some people posit that the effort required to put into eating lobster also added to upper class shunning of the delicacy (personally I've always found a little elbow grease for my food rather rewarding).

As America continued to grow and develop, so too did our tastes evolve in a sort of "trickle up" effect, or what these days we refer to as gentrification.  Just as tacos began as lowly street food and are now seen on gourmet menus, the elites ultimately realized what they were missing out on and lobsters gained popularity, such that by the mid 1840s, commercial fisheries were established. 

Up until the 1920s lobsters were relatively abundant, with the industrial revolution and transportation technology allowing them to be sent all over the country.  My great-grandfather, well known for his epicurean parties, was said to have had lobsters trained in from Maine for one particularly extravagant soiree.  As supply dwindled and demand continued to grow, prices rose which is why lobster today is now considered a delicacy.

Interestingly enough, lobster rolls were not invented until the advent of the hot dog bun (and what would a lobster roll be without that perfectly rectangular, toasted, buttered log of whitebread?) presumably in the mid 1950s or early 60s--the so-called convenience food generation.  Lobster rolls really ought to be attributed to America's fascination with salad, which, having evolved over time became a vehicle for any number of ingredients (peaking, once again, in the 50s and 60s with the infamous jello salads).  Tuna, crab, shrimp and lobster salads became the fanciest way to present seafood--toss with mayo and celery and serve.

No one knows what brilliant man (or woman) had the idea to combine toasted white bread and lobster salad, but you know who you are--congratulations, you invented one of the postmodern world's richest delicacies.   

  ...I seem to have posted in a timely manor...I just cracked open this week's NY Mag to this lovely article on lobster rolls!

Food Porn

It's an official bonafide term that I hear on a regular basis: food porn...more than one clever blogger has aptly named his foodie musings the term even has its own wikipedia entry.  The term illicits provocative notion but in actuality, it demonstrates how far removed we are from our food.

Not that I'm not one to browse the web, salivating over high resolution closeups of morels, homemade pastas and any number of delicious potential meals.  My favorite is a lineup, a buffet if you will of blogs writing about food.  Feast your eyes over the rows of pictures until a delectable dish catches your eye...one click and you are instantly routed to the blogger's entry, usually complete with recipe for your own culinary forays.

But it does beg the question: with all this gastronomic stimulation, how much of this visual feast is really about food?  Has this overemphasis on image-based media turned us into a look-don't-eat culture?  For many, it is easier to flip through the glossy pages of food magazines while consuming a microwave dinner than it is to cook a meal.  By engaging the visual we are essentially negating all the pleasures of what actually makes food sexy.

Food porn takes away two thirds of what is enjoyable about food: taste and scent (with visual stimulation being the third).  Texture too, is lost.  My theory is that the overwhelming bombardment of visual media in our postmodern fragmented society has forced us to create communities where we can (internet communities being a perfect example).  Food porn is sexy because we can all agree on the beauty of an image.  It can be seen and debated.  Taste, texture, scent are less quantifiable and arguably more subjective.

But what is food without taste or smell? After all, even the most artfully styled photograph is merely two dimensional.  Yes, it is everlasting, but perhaps somethings are better left undocumented.  One million pictures could not do justice to my mother's famous pesto: my father's carefully tended garden basil and garlic, perfectly measured from memory, the pasta exactly al dente recalling years of family dinners and special occasions.  Images may capture a memory but they cannot make one if one does not previously exist.  It is the full dimensionality of an experience that does.

Food and sex have long been entwined, in part because both are inherently physical pursuits that engage the full spectrum of our human senses.  So, as much as I love a beautifully photographed dish (I cannot lie, I am an ample documentor of my own culinary adventures), I love eating that dish even more.

Wavo's sexy food of the day: Scapes!  I was introduced to garlic scapes (the green stem that grows from a garlic bulb and ultimately flowers) last night by a friend and I am anxiously awaiting tomorrow's farmers market to purchase them for myself (I can't get them off my mind, they are incredible!)  Perfumed with garlic (one of the sexiest food scents if you ask me), yet resembling a scallion, rich and fibrousy, almost spinach like when cooked.  Their beautiful spiral only adds to the carnal appeal.  Engage your senses and enjoy!

Vaya Mundo!

In honor of the World Cup opener (and the fact that I ate exlusively Mexican food yesterday and most of today), it seemed appropriate for the ranchero to feature my fav Mexican spots, past and present (despite the 1-1 draw, at least Mexico got one point).  I'm pretty sure I was of Hispanic decent in a past life.  I've worked years to perfect my own enchiladas, posole, guacamole, etc. but sometimes you just need it to be cooked by someone else.  Here are my top 8:

La Costena, Mountain View, CA:  People, especially Californians, get all uppity when you talk about your burrito spot of choice.  Even on the corner of Rengstorff and Old Middlefield are the oft disputed Los Altos Taqueria and La Costena.  My money is on La Costena--started as a grocery with a little burrito bar in back, now winning awards right and left.  The only thing better than getting a delicious pollo adobado burrito is finding all your Mexican grocery needs as well in a one-stop shop!

Pancho Villa, San Francisco, CA: Yeah, yeah, the Mission is chalk full of delicious and Pancho definitely has the monopoly on your standard fare (much less "authentic" than El Farolito, a copycat of the purported originator of the Mission burrito Taqueria La Cumbre--take your digs where you will), I have to admit for a quick-n-easy burrito fix, I'm a Pancho girl.  (I used to be an El Toro Taqueria loyalist, but since the renovation it's just not the same--even tho it's owned by Pancho's peeps).  Super pollo asado burrito with spicy salsa and extra pico...done and done.

Dos Pinas, San Francisco, CA: Ok, not the Mission, Potrero actually, but across the street from where I went to culinary school.  Chicken chile verde street tacos (3/$5) with a side of rice and beans and I am a smitten kitten.  The al pastor is pretty ridiculous as well.  The walls of hot sauces are great too, just make sure it hasn't expired (I'm pretty sure some of those bottles have been there for a while).

Mi Nidito, Tuscon, AZ: One word, birria.  Spicy, saucy, delicioso, this is Sonoran food done to perfection.  A nice change from your California Mexican, Sonoran is a little smokier, more sultry...chiles with soul.  Eat anything with carne seca or birria and there's really no losing.

El Burrito Loco, St. Louis, MO: My college favorite! I used to beg my friends to make the 25 minute drive out to South Grand with me (especially once Mi Ranchito opened off Delmar).  If only for the chipotle chicken quesadilla.  Really, leave the burritos aside, chipotle chicken is where it's at! The owners hail from Chihuaha and import their cheese--well worth the carbon footprint.

Dos Toros Taqueria, Union Square, New York, NY: Started by a couple of Bay Area brothers (natch), by far the closest I've come to satisfying my burrito cravings in NYC.  Although with all the hype surrounding them these days, it's so popular the line is usually out the door...and nevermind chatting up the cute SF guys who work there.  Props for happily raised chicken and fresh ingredients--love the habanero hot sauce.

Cascabel Taqueria, UES, New York, NY: Carnitas carnitas carnitas. Yum.  Excellent crispy delicious carnitas tacos with those lovely Mexican onions that turn pink when you grill them just so.  The camarones are also divine--going back to try the tortas (I love me a good Mexican sandwich every now and then).

Taqueria Los Angeles, Puebla, Mexico: 1/2 kilo of al pastor with all the fixins for $4.  No words.  My heaven (see picture).

Honestly, I could go on for days.  Tacos for lunch, Sopa Azteca for dinner followed by a guacamole breakfast!  And I don't discriminate--I'm wide open to new deliciousness.  Now I have to start working on my menu for Wednesday when Spain takes on Switzerland. Go World!

"mucho es tanto, pero no culantro"

Like much of Central America, Panamanian food at its simplest follows the classic rice and beans structure accompanied by indigenous plants, root vegetables and local fish.  For flair, the epitome of Latin America: yuca (cassava) and culantro.

Platos tipicos include all manners of yuca--fried, boiled, steamed, and deep fried again (those Panamanians love their fried yuca the way Americans love french fries), as well as corvina (sea bass) most commonly found in ceviche or simply fried whole. 

Because of its role as an international gateway between both east and west as well as north and south, the influx of foreign foods into the Panamanian diet is astounding.  This brings the question of the globalization of cuisine to the forefront of modern Panama, particularly Panama City, who's restaurants run the gamut from Japanese sushi to Indian curry.

Contrary to popular belief, this is not a strictly modern phenomena.  Panama has long been host to global interests-from the Spanish conquest in the 1500s, to the French attempt to build the canal in the late 1800s, to American ownership of the canal zone until 1999.  Lest we not forget the lives and laborers who furthered the culinary dimensions of the region: Africans, Chinese, South and Central Americans, etc.  Layer upon layer of culinary richness inform the Panamanian diet, begging Anthony Bourdain's question: "Is Panama just the canal?"

Can you separate a strictly indigenous or Panamanian cuisine?  The national dish of Panama is alleged to be sancocho, a simple chicken soup with yuca, corn on the cob and a heady dose of culantro.  Yet sancocho is not specific to Panama--it is a meat stew common in many parts of Central and South America.

The origins of ceviche are hotly debated (is it a dish imported from coastal Spain by explorers seeking to preserve fish? There are also citations of ceviches made in Aztec society in central Mexico).  In Panama, the ceviche is usually raw corvina "cooked" with lime juice (the acid denatures the proteins, altering their structure similar to the way heat does) seasoned with onions and culantro.  Neither of these dishes have any strict geographical claim to Panama.  Is it the culantro, then, that makes it unique?

Culantro, as well, is common to many cuisines of Latin America, the Caribbean as well as those of Thailand and Vietnam.  A distant cousin of cilantro (in appearances closer to a primordial spiked romaine lettuce with an almost celery-esque fibrous stalk), culantro is decidedly more pungent than cilantro.  It is delicious (for lover's of cilantro, at least...word on the street is some people have a certain genetically inherited enzyme that makes cilantro taste like soap, thus the love it/hate it attitude, so much so that anti-cilantro web communities exist by the hundreds), and it flavored almost every dish i enjoyed in Panama--from ceviche, salsa, salad, stew, fish and chicken.  (Research seems to be pending on the soap-flavor enzyme, and it is unclear if this applies to culantro as well, I believe not).

Despite the constant exchange of foodways between Panama and the cuisines of the globe, it is indigenous ingredients like culantro that maintain a grasp on something purely Panamanian.  With roots dating back to pre-Columbian times, used by peoples over hundreds of years for both culinary and medicinal purposes, the flavor of culantro (to me at least) is the flavor of Panama.  Even more so as it is a local ingredient being incorporated into the ever-increasingly diverse realm of international cuisines on Panamanian soil.

Is it possible for any post-colonial country emerging in the 21st century to claim a "pure," local cuisine?  As long as societies have existed so too has globalization.  Obviously not on the grand scale we see today, but trade, the exchange of foodstuffs and information has long influenced the developmental trajectory of societies.  Even in the U.S. we struggle with defining our "national cuisine," as we have always prided ourselves as a melting pot of cultures and foodways.  Countries like Panama have an even bigger culinary burden to bear: maintaining an autonomous cuisine while incorporating the generations of chefs, cooks and ingredients who have made that country home.

[Interesting readings on exchange of foodstuffs through trade and exploration and globalized food: The Columbian Exchange by Alfred Crosby and Home Cooking in the Global Village by Richard Wilk.]

the Currency of Travel

I spent last week exploring Panama--from Panama City and the canal on the west coast to the eastern archipelago of San Blas. Beautiful, remote and sometimes very third world, I was amazed at the number of young European and North American backpackers I met.

Panama is fast-becoming the next hot stop on the Gringo Trail, yet I was amazed at the number of times I was asked, "How long are you traveling?" As if my week long vacation was something to be looked down upon, a lesser form of wanderlust.

What is the difference between vacation and travel? Semantically speaking, travel indicates a journey whereas vacation is a respite, yet in my mind the two are far from mutually exclusive. Isn't backpacking around South America nothing more than an extended respite from "real life"? No, it would seem not so. Fellow backpackers measured my coolness and authenticity based on the length of my travel. A week is merely a drop in the bucket (regardless of any past travel experiences; this is not cumulative over time).

It seems that in reaching the height of affluence and influence, the western world has spawned a generation of itinerant young travelers--the "backpacker generation," traveling the world on a budget with little more than their copy of Lonely Planet and a tentative plan. What amazed me was the ignorance with which these educated youths travel--with very little understanding of local cultures and an extremely basic grasp of language, they pack from hostel to hostel, befriending others like themselves in a never-ending party of one-up-manship and cervezas nacionales.

When not boasting of sites seen, the most common lament is an incessant whine over the "Westernization" (or more offensively, "Americanization") of post-colonial Latin America. While racking up passport stamps, backpackers are repeatedly offended by the presence of gluttonous consumption in the face of rural poverty. It is the epitome of irony, to arrive in a foreign land only to spend your time there partying with other people of similar backgrounds, ignoring local culture while complaining of the lack of it.

Granted this is an overarching generalization which is not to say that there are many backpackers who travel with reverence. However, of all the people I met in Panama not a single person could describe to me the food or the local way of life. Rather than exploring off the beaten path these travelers gauge the value of their experiences by time spent partying in hostels, drinking local rum (ok I’ll give them that—they are more than willing to sample local spirits and illicit substances).

What do they come home with, other than a serious tan, a few indigenous tschoschkes, and about 500 new facebook friends? The answer is unclear. A Canadian kid I met on a deserted Caribbean island told me he had been living in Nicaragua for four months working as a dive instructor. He then asked me how to say "cup" in Spanish, admitting that although living in Central America he could barely speak a word of the language. With an astounding narrowmindedness toward food and culture (another fellow island guest refused to eat fish freshly caught from the sea, preferring instead chicken that the chef had boated in from the nearby mainland).

It seems grossly hypocritical to bellyache about globalization and westernization when it is precisely these attitudes that young travelers are bringing to the locations they visit. It is not just those who travel that promote this sort of cultural ignorance--backpacker movies have long depicted youths ready to live it up in foreign lands, only to stumble ignorantly into tragedy. (See this list of best backpacking movies)

Although backpacking has long been viewed as the most "authentic" means of travel, the consumptive way of life embodied by the wandering traveler seems to completely undermine any genuine cultural experience. Which begs the question: as globalization continues to bring more and more developing countries under the wing of global capitalism, is there such a thing as an authentic travel experience? It cannot be enough to say you've seen Machu Picchu or to flip through your passport stamps with abandon. I believe to really experience a place you have to step outside your comfort zone--away from the hostels, the bars, the famous beaches--to see the other side of life. The daily goings on of the laborer, what he eats, where he drinks and sleeps. How women are treated, how food is prepared, who works, who doesn't, who cooks what, etc.

Until popular culture ceases to glorify the wandering youthful indulgence typified in novels and film (see "The Gringo Trail" or "The Beach") it may be too much to ask for travelers to seek the underlying truths of a place. However, I must say, I think I learned more about people (from both the third and first worlds) on my week-long vacation than any of the people I met spending months on end hopping from one gringo bar to the next.

It's Time

Pondering the Pacific Ocean over a Panamanian ceviche (see left), it dawned on me, after almost a year of dormancy, it's time for Wavo to revamp her Ranchero. My academic schedule has left me lucky enough to have time to travel this summer, opening up new worlds, culinary and otherwise. As such, I will now devote Wavo's Ranchero to exploring gastronomic and cultural experiences both at home and abroad. Having just returned from a week-long visit to Panama, I have ample questions/thoughts/observations to put down. Here's to good eats, good friends and good times. Salud!