Scar Lover

We were in the weeds, a kitchen term meaning we'd fallen woefully behind.  All the Common Threads kids had. Their bus was leaving in 10 minutes, they hadn't finished making the spring roll filling and were closing in on panic.  It was then we sustained our first injury.  Rudy II in my group (there are two Rudys, Rudy I and Rudy II -- what are the odds?) had a grating incident. There was blood.

A bandaid on his finger and he was fine.  I mean, look at him.  Me?  I couldn't sleep that night, thinking we'd hurried the kids too much, I should have been watching Rudy II when I was helping Rudy I, we'd broken our no-injury pact, Rudy II would never come back and why should he, I was a rotten instructor and all good had gone from the world.  

There's a little neuroscience behind this.  Three a.m., when I tend to be awake and fretful, is when one of your really good neurotransmitters, the one that helps you cope -- serotonin? tryptophan? -- is down to the dregs.  If you can tough it out until daylight, your brain starts up production again and things tend to look a little better.

And so, come morning, they did.  The truth is, cuts and burns are badges of honor in the kitchen.  You know a real chef by his hands.  They don't feel human.  They're scarred over, petrified.  And injury can extend well beyond hands.  Gordon Ramsay has flambeed his testicles.  Semipros and home cooks get battle scars, too, though perhaps less spectacular ones.  I've got a burn on my left hand from a pan of sage-roasted squash with walnuts.  My wonderful friend Tony was so taken by Jamie Oliver's easy, chatty manner on the telly, he, too, began talking and chopping away and oops, had dinner preempted by a trip to the emergency room.  My Greek friend Dimitra shows off her injuries like they're jewelry. "This is from spanokopita," she says, pointing to a crescent-shaped burn on her wrist.  "Loukemades," she says, pointing to a constellation of tiny burns from spattered oil.  

Tony healed long ago, Dimitra, Rudy II and I are well on our way.  But there'll be more injuries as long as we want to cook, which I hope we always will.  We will not be defeated by dinner.  By our injuries so shall we be known, so shall we be forged. And our scars, as Harry Crews reminds us in his 1992 novel Scar Lover, make us beloved and beautiful.  

Just the same, keep a first aid kit handy and use a food processor rather than a box grater for the cabbage and carrots when you make:

 Thai Confetti with Basil and Mint

For the wok sauce:

4 tablespoons toasted sesame oil 

4 tablespoons light soy sauce

4 tablespoons fresh lime juice 

2 tablespoons chopped scallions

1 tablespoon light brown sugar

1 teaspoon chopped fresh chili or 1 tablespoon Asian chili-garlic sauce

For the vegetable-tofu confetti:

1 tablespoon toasted sesame oil

2 cloves garlic, minced

1 cup mushrooms, sliced thin

2 scallions, sliced thin

2 carrots, shredded

2 red peppers, julienned

1/2 cabbage, shredded (about 3 cups)

8 ounces firm tofu (1/2 package), drained well and diced

1/2 cup chopped or torn mint leaves, plus additional for garnish

1/2 cup chopped or torn basil leaves, plus additional for garnish

handful of chopped peanuts for garnish

Combine all the sauce ingredients in a small bowl.  Stir to dissolve sugar.  Set aside.

In a wok or large skillet, heat oil over medium-high heat.  Add garlic, mushrooms, scallions, carrots, peppers and cabbage.  Stir well to coat.  Add sauce and tofu.  Reduce heat to medium. Cook, stirring constantly, until vegetables are crisp-tender and sauce is absorbed, about 3 minutes.  Fold in chopped mint and basil.  

Serve topped with chopped peanuts and additional fresh herbs.

Serves 4.

Naked Broccoli

Harry Crews once told me that when he writes, "I want to get as naked as I possibly can, to strip my mind, my emotional stuff, whatever I work out of, and say, Here it is, ladies and gentlmen, this is all I'm bringing."

I love that attitude. I try to be naked, too, to be honest in the midst of artifice.  I strive to bring nakedness to every aspect of my life.  I can usually manage it in the kitchen.  So in honor of the titanic Harry Crews, here's naked broccoli:

 

Take one lovely green head of broccoli.  Rinse off invisible nasties.  Cut into florets, keeping as much stem as you can stand.  That's where the phytonutrients are.  Tossing out the broccoli bottom wastes resources and cheat you out of the best nutritional bits.  Steamed, the woody stems turn tender and great tasteing -- like asparagus. Chop them into bits and you've got bonus broccoli.

 

Do you want to be plunged into boiling water?  Neither does broccoli.  Steaming preserves the nutrients in produce, too, so invest in a covered steamer or double boiler.  Place veggies in the put above -- the one with the holes -- water in the pot below.  Cover, bring to a boil, and steam for 6 minutes (or if you're a microwaver, give it about 3 minutes), then peek inside and check on your broccoli's progress.  It should smell vegetal and rich and be glowingly green.  You want stems that snap, not bend.  Give it another minute or two if necessary, then rinse in cold water or toss in a handful of ice.  like other vegetables, broccoli retains heat and will continue cooking until you bring down its temperature.

 

Stop and admire.   You have just made broccoli and it is beautiful.  Take off your clothes and do a little broccoli dance.   Now go read Crews' amazing autobiography A Childhood, The Biography of a 

Place (1978). 

Tomorrow's menu -- poetry, porn, Jamaican vegetable stew and if 

the photo gods are kind, a decent picture.