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So I need to know if anyone else has noticed homemade food being peddled.  No, I’m not talking about kids selling stuff for fundraisers and the like.  I’m talking about adults knocking on your door or coming into where you work with very specific food items.

My first experience with this happened late last spring.  I was napping on the couch in my living room when a knock at the door made my dog go crazy.  I opened the front door, but not the storm door, to view through the window a small, dark man with a open box of flan in his arms.  Between the dog barking and the man’s accent, I managed to glean it was homemade flan at a very reasonable price.  Now I like flan as much as the next gal, but I would never entertain the thought of buying one from a stranger at my door.  The man went on his way to knock at the neighbor’s. 

Odd as that was, it gave me a good story to tell everyone I knew.  And like me, no one I knew had had anything like it happen to them.  I thought it was an amusing fluke.  But yesterday, something similar happened where I work.   It’s true I work in a food establishment, and professionally-dressed sale people from different food distributors stop in all the time. What I’m about to tell you was very different.  A youngish, wild-eyed and disheveled guy with a toddler in tow stopped in to ask the owner, “Where is your smoked salmon?”  My boss said, “We don’t carry smoked salmon.”  To which the man replied, quite aghast,  he just couldn’t believe it.  But he did happen to sell the best smoked salmon on the East Coast, and would she like to try it?  Sure, she said slowly.  I observed he had neither a cooler nor a bag of any sort with him.

To make a long story short, he did actually leave for a few minutes and return with some fish to sample.  It was quite tasty, but it wasn’t even cool, it was almost warm.  I didn’t want to know where he’d been keeping it.  But his approach to cold-call food sales was just as bizarre as the guy with the flan.  What in the world is going on?

I’ve mentioned briefly my aspirations to snail farming.  I’d like to do it more for fun and profit than personal consumption, but I’m sure that I’d have to try cooking and eating some of my harvest to make sure I’ve got a good product. 

I’ve been reading articles online to learn some of the basics of “helioculture,”  but I’m sure reading everything I can get my hands on would not substitute for real-life experience.  So if anybody out there can point me in the direction of an escargot apprenticeship, please let me know.  I really need to see with my own eyes, and get my hands into, the management of snail pens.

There’s also the important matter of my beginning stock.  I’m quite sure there are strict laws governing the importation of live animals, snails included. There are also laws regulating live shellstock crossing state lines in the U.S.  I’d like to begin with the absolute best snails, perhaps more than one variety.  So if anybody can provide contact information for domestic snail sources, I’d be most thankful.  There’s a fellow in Le Perche region of France named Phillipe Couvreur who supposedly has bred the most dynamite escargot ever, but I can’t imagine how I’d legally obtain some of his l’il slithers while still alive.  But if there’s a way for me to get hold of good European snail stock, PLEASE let me know.  I’m in uncharted waters here.  Thank you! 

I’m going to try a new sauce tonight for seared lamb chops.  When deciding to make the chops for dinner, I thought about what I could do that was different than my usual schtick.

Remembering the frozen peas I’ve got on hand, I went out and bought some fresh mint.  My plan is to puree the thawed peas and mint with salt, pepper, toasted almonds, and melted butter.  I know darn well this combination is not a culinary revelation, but I’d like to make this fresh and bright “pesto” just from what sounds right, so that I can call it all my own. 

Maybe I should call it a chimicurri instead.  That sounds cute.  Ooh, and maybe I’ll include some red pepper flakes and lemon juice.  The more I’m tasting this in my head, the more I’m thinking some heat and some acid will put this sauce over the top.

My point today is to give a concrete example of the gist from yesterday’s post.  Yes, anybody can be a decent cook with some thought and practice, without a cookbook in front of them.  Of course there will be trial and error and sometimes dishes won’t taste so great.  Ah, but when they do, you’ll feel a sense of accomplishment like no other.  And it’ll belong to you and only you because you cooked from your heart and your head. 

Curious about what I’m serving with the chops?  That’d be roasted red potatoes with onion and garlic, and sauteed zucchini with blistered grape tomatoes.  For wine we’ll have a red Cotes du Rhone.

Anyone who has read my “recipes” surely realizes that I don’t much go in for measuring.  When I cook in large quantities at work, or if I’m trying something totally new, or if I’m baking, I’ll measure.  But otherwise, I honestly can’t be bothered.  Measuring slows me down and takes some of the fun out it. And by now, after the literally thousands of dishes I’ve prepared, shame on me if I can’t tell a tablespoon of something by looking at it.

I think it’s amusing to test yourself as a cook, too, and not measuring has a devil-may-care attitude about it.  Cooking at home should be at least a little bit fun, show why not play a game with yourself?  Plus, you’re building palate skills by not measuring ingredients.  You’ll begin to feel your way as a cook, which will, by and by, make you a better cook.  You’ll begin to taste flavors and their balance in your head before tasting the dish in reality.  You’ll wonder what to make for dinner one night, see a random or obscure ingredient in your cupboard or at the store, and start building a unique recipe for it by cooking with it in your head.

Put down those pesky spoons and cups for just a little while and see what happens.  You might surprise yourself.

I’ve got a wicked craving for Vietnamese noodle soup.  I’ve never tried making it at home before, mostly because it’s just the two of us at home, and making the vast vat of beef broth it requires seems a little silly.  Not to mention that it would be distinctly flavored, so freezing it and using it for other things might not work out so well.  I myself could eat incarnations of Vietnamese food everyday for the rest of my life, whereas my husband would probably tire of it on day two.  In his defense, however, he did let me talk him into eating pho twice on a four-day trip to Montreal.  I love that man.

I do on occasion make “bun” at home, which is the cold Vietnamese noodle salad full of herbs, peanuts, carrots, cucumber, and topped with hot grilled meat, often thin slices of skewered pork.  It’s easy, fast, and super-delicious.  I just might have to make it one night this week to get my flavor fix.  You want a shopping list? 

You’ll need pork cutlets (I should tell you that the marinade is very tasty on tofu and shrimp too), garlic, shallots, limes, lemongrass, cilantro, mint, cucumber, carrots, bean sprouts, fish sauce, soy sauce, brown sugar, rice noodles, and wooden skewers.  And a grill.

First, make your marinade for the meat (this will go much faster if you have food processor).  Thouroughly blend some fish sauce, brown sugar, garlic, and lemongrass.  If you’re unfamiliar with fish sauce, it’s wicked salty and funky.  Look up an authentic Vietnamese bun recipe if you’re unsure of the proportions of what “looks” right, because too much fish sauce is not a good thing.  Pour it over your pork slices, cover and refrigerate for up to two hours.

Soak some wooden skewers in water.  Again, in your food processor, make the “dressing” for the noodles.  Thouroughly blend a small handful each of fresh cilantro and mint, along with a couple good splashes of soy sauce, the juice of a couple fresh limes, a fresh shallot, and a teeny bit of brown sugar.  Then, shred some carrots, thinly slice half a cuke, and chop some peanuts.  Oh, and bean sprouts are good, too.  But you don’t need to do anything with them until you assemble each plate.

Read the package directions for the rice noodles carefully.  They differ.  But they all can be done ahead of time because they’re going to be cold.  So make those noodles!

Light a grill.  Thread your pork onto your skewers.  When the grill is really hot, cook the pork until just done, but make sure it has a tiny bit of char on it for authentic flavor.

Toss the cold rice noodles with the herb dressing and plate them.  Top with some carrots, cukes, peanuts, and bean sprouts.  Lay a hot pork skewer or two on top.  Prepare for a blissful frangrance explosion!  Eat up.  If you like it spicy, pick up some Vietnamese chili sauce to add to your plate. 

Writing yesterday about my favorite food products, I came to realize how loyal I am to certain brands without much realizing it.  A prime example is Bon Ami cleanser.  My mother and grandmother both use it, too, so I’ve always seen the inconspicuous gold and red can hanging around since childhood.  If you’ve never tried Bon Ami, I highly suggest you do so.

First, it’s environmentally friendly, and it always has been.  There are absolutely no harsh chemicals in it, no bleach so there’s no overwhelming smell, and it’s totally biodegradable.  You might say, “Samantha, what does this have to do with cooking?”  Well, aside from the fact that I do use it to clean all sorts of things, I always keep a can of it under the kitchen sink to clean pots, pans, and casseroles.  When Bon Ami is around, you have no need for scouring pads that contain wicked degreasers and chemicals.  It won’t hurt your hands to use it without gloves, and it rinses off your skin just as easily as it rinses off of things.  Ever notice how long it takes to get the blue suds off of a casserole when you scrub it with a traditonal scouring pad?  That always freaked me out when I would try to use one.  What if there’s still some of it there when you cook with that casserole again?

The best part is that Bon Ami works fast.  You’ll find you’re more inclined to wash your cooking equipment right after you use it.  That is, you won’t have the temptation to shove your crusty pans in the dishwasher just to get them out of the way, knowing full well that when they come out of the machine you’ll just end up scrubbing them anyway. 

I’m not that into commercial food products, or so I thought until I was cleaning out my fridge and cupboard.  I use more “made” stuff than I realize, and some it brings me shame to admit and some it is just good sense.  I’d like to know if anybody else is as fond of these product as I am.

Vietnamese Chili Garlic Sauce-what would I do without it?  This stuff is the best.  It brings savory heat wherever you want, plus it’s good on sandwiches and eggs.  I use it just about anywhere you might use Tabasco.  And it makes a righteous base for wing sauce.

Saltines-you want crunchy chicken?  Just roll it around in finely crushed crackers after the egg wash, and I guaranteed your bread crumb can will empty much more slowly. (Yes, I admit to using canned bread crumbs, but just sometimes.)

Hellman’s Mayonnaise-oh, this is the best commercial mayo out there!  Don’t leave home without it.  I use for a LOT of things mayo is not traditionally used for.  It makes the bread of a grilled cheese crunchy and light, did you know?

Tubes of fresh herb paste-nothing like them if you need a tablespoon of lemongrass, marjoram, et al, the herbs you don’t usually buy fresh because they will just languish slimily in your fridge before you end up throwing them out.  Wasabi in a tube rocks, too.

No-boil lasagna noodles-I ADORE these things simply because you don’t have to deal with the inevitable sticking and tearing that comes with cooking regular lasagna noodles.  Perfect every time.

Heinz Ketchup-of course there’s nothing wrong with having ketchup in the fridge, who doesn’t?  But I use it for lots of things, though.  A teeny squirt of ketchup in a pan sauce brings an unnameable but satisfying, binding sweetness to it.  It doesn’t work for any sauce at all, just some.  Use your judgment.  Maple syrup can do the same thing, keep the good stuff around, not Aunt Jemima.

I’m sure I’ll think of more of my favorite things.  Stay posted.

The title of this post is a nod to Alfred Lord Tennyson who wrote that “nature is red in tooth and claw.”  I wrote “tail and claw” because I made lobsters for dinner last Saturday night, and when they emerged from the pot they were, of course, quite red.  Now Tennyson was obviously commenting that all life lives at the expense of other life, whereas my comment is more drily humorous.  Nevertheless, I killed the lobsters before I put them in the pot.  I had never done that before.  (I needed to see if I was capable, as in the near future I hope to become a snail farmer.)  The handful of times I had cooked lobsters previously, I had just jammed them into the pot and replaced the lid as quickly as possible. 

So following the explicit instructions garnered from a couple of websites with photos, I picked up my biggest, heaviest, sharpest knife and did the deed.  I won’t go into the specifics, but let’s just say the lobster did NOT cease movement immediately as I had hoped.  And when I pushed the wooden skewers up their tails (to keep them from curling in the pot), I felt more than a bit guilty.  If the lobsters reactions meant anything, they definitely were not dead at that point.  It didn’t help that later on that evening I caught a few minutes of “Hannibal” on TV.

We could go on for hours debating the humane/inhumane sides of the coin.  Trust me, I’ve had that debate with myself for quite a while now.  Would it be better to just drop them in the pot, boiling them alive?  Or is it indeed better for the lobster to have its main nerve severed, so that it doesn’t feel the boil?

Let’s eschew all that for a moment and consider the main question:  how did they taste?  They were lovely.  They were tender and tasty, especially since I had made a court bouillon in which to cook them.  The tails were straight as arrows, making the removal of the shell easy. 

But the best part?  I feel a definite reduction in the niggling hypocrisy that comes from being a modern carnivore.  I’ve often thought that a person who eats meat should know where it comes from, how it’s been treated, and if it lost its life in a humane fashion.  After dispatching those two lobsters, at least I’m going to make an effort to buy more free-range meat, and also cook less of it at that.  Yeah, I know it’s really expensive, but it’s almost always a better quality than commercial meat, and it was probably a lot more content while it was alive.