Choosing to be Picky

"My parents let me be a picky eater," said the new acquaintance seated across from me who decided to abstain from the meal.

I stared back in shock. My-Parents-let-me-be-a-picky-eater. I let the words run over me with a stutter step. This response, a poor excuse, occurred in a trendy metropolitan restaurant, one where mini hamburgers and sorbet martinis graced our table. The speaker, a man in his mid to late twenties, explained why he was not going to enjoy the meal, because of his parents' decision 23 years before, to let him be picky. The hosts, who were celebrating a wonderful familial right of passage, arranged for a American Bistro meal, and prepared for a variety of diets and tastes. Still, the man, an adult blaming his parents, choose not to eat.

Pickiness is a state of mind.*** My niece eats sushi, Indian, and pretty much anything. Granted, there was an unfortunate incident involved with her eating some vindaloo by accident, which she followed with licking the tablecloth at a restaurant. But, the point is, that as a child she is exposed to a plethora of tastes and foods, she also knows that what is put in front of her should be eaten. Teaching a variety of ages, I witness many so-called picky children, who try unusual foods, and realize-- shocking-- they love it!

So, in honor of avoiding becoming a picky eater, I will try cooking a new ingredient each week this summer. I will no longer pass the unusual ingredient because I did not grow up on it. This game is my usual solution when I am in a cooking rut. Instead of pushing a million new recipes, I set a goal of one new ingredient a week. From past summers, I learned that I love bok choy. Barley is not challenging. Purple cabbage can be tasty, especially on tacos. Despite my rather subdued, or subtle, childhood palate, I actually like spicy food, and I don't even lick the tablecloth.

****By the way, I am aware of the gene that makes for bland eating, but I still don't believe you can't improve upon this and more importantly: try new things. There are many bland things around the world that are new.

Yummy Brunch......

The best brunch I ever tasted can be found at Hotel La Tortuga in Playa del Carmen Mexico. A rich omelet with tomatoes, beans, and whipped potatoes on the side. Savoring the fresh ingredients, we left every meal smiling and not hungry until dinner. For months after we returned, we tried and tried again to recreate it, which of course is impossible. Instead, I started making the following as a quick and easy alternative,

La Tortuga breakfast (recipe for 1, double for 2, triple for 3)

• 1 Slice of wheat bread
• Slice of sharp cheddar cheese
• 1/2 cup of black beans
• 1 egg
• Fresh salsa
• Pinch of cilantro
• 3 avocado slices

1. Toast the bread, with cheese on top.
2. Fry the egg, while also heating up black beans in a separate pan.
3.Cook the black beans ,strain, and place on top of the toast.
4. Place beans on top of cheese toast, then egg, then cilantro, salsa and avocado.

Eat open faced with fresh orange juice, preferably outside on a patio or porch.

My Italian influence, and love of my family.

Most people are unaware of my love of Italian cooking. Well, that is to say, most people don't know I cook, mostly because I don't talk about it often, and most see me as only Irish-- and really not much there in the cuisine department. It took a long time for the chef in me to blossom. My best friend, since our adventures in playing teacher, photographer, marine biologist, or chef, Tay always told me I was a great Italian cook. A completely bizarre concept, as a young teen, I would make her cappellini with tomato sauce. I taught Tay how to test pasta, what was good sauce, and how parmesean is a joke (and it is! always flavor with Romano). I grew up on bruschetta and basil before it hit American eateries (by the way, spellcheck tells me that I need to substitute brisket for brushetta). However, I never thought this was special, maybe I thought it was weird. It was not until college, when all my roommates showed me their Italian in tin cans, that I realized that being raised by an Italian mother and grandparent is unique, which A. added to by referring to Italian food as ethnic when we met.

When my grandmother married the Welshman, she tried to imitate the meals from her mother and Bari, without written recipes, but she missed the mark. Instead of consulting a cookbook or TV show, she tried again, and again. The ultimate Italians, my family doesn't pass down recipes, we learned them through trying them. I still am very proud of my heritage. 3/4 of my family did not enter the U.S. until after 1910, and the other 1/4 makes me Welsh, which is also original (2/4 Irish citizen+ 1/4 Italian + 1/4 Welsh mutt= perfect). Now, the cooking fell down the Rammuni line to my mother, who will never admit it, but she is the best cook. She is the first to acknowledge another cook in the room, but she is very humble about her own creations. However, her desire to cook a good meal for us, despite going back to school and working, made me appreciate quality. V. would never be satisfied with O.K food. She never criticizes, but always looks for taste perfection. Now, taste perfection does not mean fancy, or trendy, or expensive, or reservations. Probably without realizing it, my mother taught me that a good dish needs simply divine ingredients, without fuss. Mostly, when I think of V.'s cooking, I think of all the items that are trendy grocery store regulars. I was raised on zucchini, asparagus, and then... yummy stuffing, tomatoes/ cucumbers and balsamic, minestrone, rigatoni, lemon chicken, tortellini, (sausage with tomato sauce, don't tell anyone), vegetarian lasagna, and... egg balls.

Now, egg balls are amazing. They are like meatballs but comprised of breadcrumbs with an egg binder. We have them on the side of pasta (and pork chops, and sausage, and garlic bread, and salad, and asparagus, and... everything). Vegetarians are not common in Italian-American families, and it is the same in my family. But, my Mom and Grandmother make me egg balls served with pasta. However my grandma and my mother have not helped me with that recipe yet....

I neglect, because I stress.

My wonderful cousin, a great cook, demanded that I update the blog. Unfortunately, I have been suffering from a whirlwind of chaotic academic life. Since the last post, I spoke at two conferences, taught my adorable students, visited the homeland, and started preparing for the end of the semester with 5 more papers to go. I will be sure to be better at adding in the future.

Until then,
In high school, all track meets began with my mother's tortellini recipe. Post-college, this is the meal that got me through borderline starvation, which involved stealing the ingredients from my parents. Shhh! they will never know. It is an easy and tasty way to carb up before a good run, and a low stress date dinner, which A. thinks is classy cooking.

This is not the healthiest meal, but serve with a side salad of Italian blend, tomatoes, balsamic vinegar, onions, and pine nuts.

V. N. S. Tortellini

• 1 package of premium tortellini or ravioli (Italian Store in Arlington has great stuff!)
• 1 cup of heavy cream
• 1 tb butter
• 1 tb nutmeg
• 1/2 cup of romano cheese
• salt and pepper

1. Boil the tortellini
2. Drain it, and toss it back in the saucepan
3. Cover the bottom of the pan (and part of the tortellini) with cream
4. Toss in the butter, nutmeg, salt, and pepper
5. Turn the heat back on, let it simmer until it boils, then immediately turn the heat off.
6. Add the romano cheese, mix in together.

It is best to actually let it sit for a minute, the sauce blends wonderfully. Serve with the salad on the side.