Foodlore, or, Shall I talk at you while you eat?

For Christmas, my parents gave me Harold McGee’s On Food and Cooking: The Science and Lore of the Kitchen, which has instantly become one of my most beloved books, combining all that I love most—food science, history, and folklore—within a singular binding. Everything that I eat must now be cross-referenced with this tome to eke out the full socio-nutritional value from every bite. From last night, for example…

The original English word for a fermented barley drink was not beer, but ale. It apparently derives from the effects of alcohol; the Indo-European root of ale had to do with intoxication, magic, and sorcery, and may be related to a root meaning “to wander, to be in exile.”

-On Food and Cooking, page 742

A beer has never before tasted so bittersweet.

During my brief break at home over the holidays, my parents were no doubt equally thrilled by my similar investigation of all our shared meals and ingredients. My mother smiled along kindly to the morning’s gluten/pancake lecture that included a visual (page 522) from the book demonstrating elongated gluten molecule chains formed during mechanical action (i.e. stirring, mixing, or kneading) and the suggestion that scantly stirred batter would produce fluffier cakes. In reality, this gluten conversation was probably only a fleeting moment, but, entirely high on my newfound plethora of food related knowledge of both modern and ancient origin, in my head the exchange was much more epic: put down that whisk, good women. Thou doth stir too much!

My father, opening the freezer a bit later in the day, made the mistake of wondering, out loud, what it is, exactly, that prevents ice cream from freezing into a solid, crystallized lump. Carrageenan! I shouted immediately in return, running frantically for my book to further discuss the polymer (page 805). You would know, my father exhaled, and then exited stage right, proceeding to eat his ice cream in the other room where I would not hover over the bowl and pronounce further nutritive and chemical properties of his cherry-chocolate-chip afternoon snack.

Thus, by the time I’d barged into the living room that evening, planted myself firmly between the television and coffee table to discuss the ideal temperature at which popcorn pops, paired with a bit of prose by Henry David Thoreau declaring popcorn the perfect winter flower (page 480), it’s no surprise that my parents merely nodded and leaned a few inches to the left, inevitably straining to see the movie now thoroughly obscured by my right hip.

I’m fortunate enough to work with coworkers who listen to my never-ending food babble, and to live with two delightful roommates who entertain my nightly harangues on food culture and science with genuine, or very convincingly feigned, interest. One roommate, a medical researcher, usually sends me informative links and websites later in the evening post dinner discussion. One evening’s dialogue about the correlation between gut flora and inherent mood generated a link to a micro biome mini-series (I’m serious about that gut flora thing, by the way. Eat more yogurt).

So, today I’d like to thank all my friends and roommates, and family who have eaten a lot of sample recipes, both the successes and the flops, endured long conversations and many questions (in person, via telephone, and email) about future food careers, and who have listened, in general, to a lot of food facts and foodlore, and maybe even encouraged it, and who have been beautifully encouraging too throughout this past year as I struggle to find the right course of food study for me, and stare down the GREs and some grueling science prerequisites in the process.

My parents in particular deserve a huge thank you. Despite my proclivity for constant food lecturing, I’m still invited home for dinner.

Breakfast today: ode to fruits, nuts, and seeds brown rice porridge—leftover brown rice warmed with a little milk (ideally almond, hazelnut, or hemp milk to capture a little extra, nutty, flavor), chopped, dried, unsulfured apricots, raw almonds, umeboshi plum, and a scattering of chia seeds.