The power of food.

Last night at a book reading by Kim Sunee http://kimsunee.com/ at Fosters Marker in Chapel Hill, we were given a glimpse of the power of food. Left on a park bench in Korea at the age of three, Sunee was adopted by a family in New Orleans. She spoke about the difficulties of growing up Korean in that part of the country and the haven that her mother's kitchen provided. We were also treated to tastes prepared by Sara Foster, Bill Smith and Sunee herself. It was fun to watch faces light up when another tray emerged from the kitchen.

First there was a shot glass of Sunnee's crawfish bisque, then Foster's red beans and rice croquettes topped with her famous seven pepper jelly, followed by mini fried oysters po'boys. It didn't stop there. After the reading was over, skewers of Moroccan chicken with dates appeared and finally Bill Smith's dense almond saffron cake. All of this was interspersed with free mini glasses of wine.

The crawfish bisque was salty and complex, the pepper jelly on the croquettes ingenious, the dates complimented the smoky chicken perfectly and the bright yellow cake was dense and satisfying. Not sure if it was just the power of fried goodness that swayed me, but the oysters stole the show. Piping hot fried oysters in a sweet bun with a creamy, spicy sauce.

Faces beamed, friends were made. Bellies full, the power of food brought us all together.

Recipes are for the weak

In all seriousness, when I first began experimenting with cooking, I really did place some merit in that sentiment. I believed that all that was necessary to become a great cook was imagination. Throwing a bunch of ingredients together in a clever way, that was the backbone of everything I did in the kitchen. Some squash, zucchini, onion, can of tomatoes, onion and sugar - that was the basis of every pasta sauce I made. Salsa? Why not just throw a can of black beans, corn, tomatoes, onion, cilantro into a bowl. It was easy, low pressure and it felt like I was creating something. A recipe seemed like rules. If you weren't making it up as you went along then what was the point?

This was the beginning. Then. . . I fell in love with food. I learned that sometimes, no matter how much imagination you approach an ingredient with, it is impossible to wing it and end up with something edible. I began to listen and watch and read. I began to understand the science behind cooking and the beauty of a well-tested recipe. Here are examples of each style of cooking. This first, my sweet potato/black bean chili, an "experiment" I improvise each time it's made, based solely on what's in our kitchen and looks good. The second is a tried and true family recipe for homemade cornbread. Though it doesn't have that same freedom of just throwing a bunch of ingredients together and seeing what happens, there's no denying that sense of accomplishment when a complicated recipe comes out of the oven looking fantastic and tasting even better.

C's Sweet Potato/Black Bean Chili
Onion if you have it
One can (or two or three) of whatever beans you have in the pantry ( I like black, northern and kidney)
One can beer
A lot of garlic
One can of ro-tel (or whatever ever other canned tomatoes you have on hand)
One or two sweet potatoes (peeled and diced)
Dash of red wine
Can of chicken, beef or veggie stock
Can of corn if you like

Cumin powder
Chili powder
Texas Pete (the only acceptable hot sauce)
Salt
All to taste.

Sautee the onion in olive oil in the bottom of a big pot till soft, throw in garlic. Wait 30 seconds and throw in everything else. Taste, adjust, taste again. Simmer at least 30 minutes (but really as long as you like). Serve with a big hunk of cornbread. (In the pictured version I added some left-over roasted chicken.)

Cast Iron Cornbread
Two things:
I've found that the quality of your cornmeal really does make a difference so don't buy the cheap stuff that costs less than a dollar. Secondly, a well seasoned cast iron skillet is a must. Try to steal (inherit) your grandmother's or shop around at flea markets and yard sales.

Cornbread
Splash of oil
2 cups of yellow cornmeal (stone-ground if you can find it)
1/2 cup all purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
1 egg
2 cups buttermilk

Preheat oven to 450 degrees. Coat the bottom of your cast iron skillet with oil (I use vegetable) and place it in the oven.
Mix together dry ingredients. Whisk egg and buttermilk. Pour wet ingredients into dry and stir only until combined.

Pull your pan out of the oven, pour the batter into it. Oil should sizzle, that's how you get the great crunchy crust. Check after about 20 minutes. Should be brown on top. A toothpick should come out clean. (Pictured version has chopped up peppers in it .. .Can't help myself, I still improvise.)

To be or not . . .

In order to be a true foodie some believe that one must be willing to eat anything.

It is with this thought that we gather at one of the best taquerias in Durham. Named after the cow that sits on its roof, La Vaquita offers up a long list of unintimidating fare - carnitas, al pastor, azada, even a "Hawaiian torta." But today, today I am here to test my love of food. I am here to challenge myself and my notion of what food should be. I am here for la lengua and la cabeza. That's right, the tongue and the head. The order is placed - uno taco barbacoa (beef), uno taco lingua and uno taco cabeza.

I hesitate and scarf down the taco barbacoa (barbecued beef) first. Satisfied with the rich flavor of the beef, I eye the cabeza hungry for more. My husband and I giggle nervously. First bite, it's surprisingly good, meaty of course, a little more flavor than the barbacoa, and not a bad texture at all. Now I'm feeling bold and as my husband finishes off his second taco al pastor, it's on to la lingua for me. Though I didn't like it as well as the cabeza, it still had that rich, meaty flavor and I finished it all, scrapping up every last bit from the styrofoam container in which it came.

There, true foodie or not, I had done it. Next time . . . the dreaded tripa (intestines).

(Though after some research, I did find out cabeza is actually part of the cheek, which is a lot less hard core than the brain I'd imagined I was eating.)