If you’re wondering why I would take the time to post a recipe for a simple salami sandwich, I assure you that there is a very valid point behind this entry. The idea stemmed from a comment in a twitter conversation that got me thinking about a few things.  That idea simply could not go without being written because I think that it pertains to every food blogger in existence at least at one time or another.

This post is dedicated in particular to my good friend Judy from No Fear Entertaining. It was a the following tweet that got me thinking about food today.  In particular, it got me thinking about what food is good food, and what is worth serving to family, friends or acquaintances.

I was checking my twitterstream when the following popped up from Judy (You are following her on twitter, aren’t you?):

@nofearentertain Dinner tonight:  Ham and salami sandwiches…I suck :-(

Of course several of us chimed in to say there was absolutely nothing wrong with this idea as a meal (To be entirely honest, I was contemplating the sandwich above long before she brought the subject up), but the statement itself got me thinking about food bloggers and how the act of being a food blogger changes our idea of what food should be. It also started me thinking about how it changes our perspective in relation to every person out there who might someday read what we’ve written.

Regardless of whether we make our money directly from our writing, food bloggers are in a sense professional foodies.  We follow the latest news in food, chefs and restaurants.  We seek out unique and pristine ingredients.  We insatiably follow food trends and at times even create the trends that the rest of the world follows.  In one way or another we define our lives in the food that we eat, the places we congregate and the meals we prepare, but in the process we disconnect ourselves from the world at large.

The quest for perfection that we engage ourselves in has an unfortunate side effect for almost every one of us at one point. It causes our focus to shift from what good food is at its core to a strange belief that the ingredients make the dish.  Nothing is farther from the truth.  The primary ingredient in great food is the love that goes into it, not whether or not the cheese used on the side was organically cultured three miles underground and cased in fine port for seven years. (Though that does sound lovely!)

Art Smith attributes his success as as a chef to preparing the food he loves with all the love he can.  The world seems to agree.  Art is acclaimed for his dishes.  They aren’t fancy.  They aren’t pompous.  They aren’t even gourmet in the fashion that most would consider a meal called gourmet food. They’re just good modern interpretations of good old fashioned Southern American meals.

Take the humble sandwich above.  Today I think nothing of it.  It’s something I might make on any given day.  A simple assemblage of ingredients that are invariably on hand in my refrigerator and pantry. On any other occasion I would have enjoyed it without ever really appreciating it, but the thought of what makes up a truly great dish placed it firmly under scrutiny.

To a foodie it’s a simple sandwich.  To my younger self it would have been a gourmet extravaganza. As a child I had never experienced such things as spicy brown mustard or shaved Parmesan cheese.  Romain lettuce was something you found as a garnish on plates at some of the better restaurants, not something used on a sandwich. Parmesan cheese came in a green shaker can that went in the fridge next to the Miracle Whip and grape jelly.

The sandwich above was as far from my experience as escargot. I wouldn’t have gotten it.  It would have been gourmet in the extreme.

That is not to say w didn’t eat a lot of salami sandwiches.  Growing up in the primarily Italian California wine country gave me the opportunity to eat a great deal of salami.  It was generally enjoyed with sourdough bread from the Sonoma French Bakery and some wonderful aged cheddar from our local delicatessen, with a hint of mustard and all the love my mother could put into it.

I never noticed that it wasn’t up to par.

So to all food bloggers out there, and to any aspiring foodie who may find themselves looking at the ingredients list before they look at the faces around their table. Please don’t forget what the real meaning of great food is.  It’s not the ingredients.  It’s not the cost, nor the complicated French method necessary to create the sauce. It’s the love that went into the making of a dish that gives it value.

So to my good friend Judy I say again; There is absolutely nothing wrong with serving ham and salami sandwiches for dinner.  They may be more appreciated by the younger members of your clan that would a perfect Coq au Vin, they’re a lot less complicated to make and I have no doubt in my mind that when prepared in your household they are infused with all the love in the world.

Food is love.  Let us not forget that in the details.

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Popularity: 5% [?]

Who says meat and potatoes has to be boring?  With just a little thought and a touch or two, the basic american plate of beef and starch can become something exciting.  It becomes an experience, rather than just something you eat.  That’s what good food is all about and I think that this dish qualifies nicely as an adventure in cooking, even though each part of the dish is utter simplicity to prepare.

The petit fillet is not a very tender cut, so either marinade well, cook rare (as we did) or braise for preparation. I use it not only because it’s inexpensive, but because it has a ton of flavor that some better cuts of beef simply can’t compare to.  Since we prefer our meats under the medium mark, just a few minutes sitting in seasoning was enough.  Had I been shooting for medium rare or above I would have marinated the cut for at least two hours.  If you’re still a bit frightened of this cut, try switching it out for a more tender chuck cut or new york strip, but stay away from mild cuts like fillet mignon, as the sauce will overpower the beef.

Add some roasted potatoes and greens of your choice and this is a complete meal in the greatest of American tradition.  My presentation is obviously a more refined take, but there’s nothing wrong with just plopping everything on a plate and drizzling with sauce before going wild with it.

Hey, it’s your kitchen and your family. Do it your way. It will taste just as good no matter how it’s plated.

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Popularity: 3% [?]

I think at the end of the day I’d have to say with confidence that I’m a fusion cook.  No matter what the combinations or origins of my recipes may be, I have to toss in something out of somewhere else, just for fun. by far my favorite inspiration is Asian cuisine.  The mix of subtle flavors with bold accents is amazing, versatile and fast, all things which my busy schedule and I embrace.

This dish was simply a throw-together dinner.  I had chicken, i had salad greens and I had an orange, this is what came of those ingredients.  Totally unplanned, unfettered by preconception or planning, it’s a simple tasty meal that easily serves as a main course in its own right and honestly could only be made more perfect by sharing it with someone else.

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Popularity: 2% [?]

I may have been born and raised in California, but my family in its entirety hails from the Midwest and the South.  The comfort foods that I grew up with were definitely not the same as those my friends were eating, since for a majority of them, their families had either lived in California for generations, or had roots on the East coast or in Italy.  Needless to say, they thought I was a bit strange.

For them, comfort foods were Mac n’ Cheese, Spaghetti, Lasagne, Some unnamed casserole or Mom’s Sunday Roast. While there is absolutely nothing wrong with these things, they simply don’t say “comfort food” to me.  They are all things that I enjoy, but when it’s time for me to feel warm, loved and safe in a world that throws far too many curves my way, I’m thinking about some good ol’ country staples.  I’m thinking fried potatoes, beans and hocks, greens and cornbread.

The world has been throwing our family a lot of curves lately.  There’s stresses from my wife’s job(s), the stresses of trying to keep a steady income flowing from my Internet ventures and to top it all off, there’s the news that our son, who just turned two, is very likely learning disabled and will be undergoing a fairly comprehensive evaluation and course of action very soon.  Add all of that up and you have one foodie who could do nothing else but dig in the pantry for some beans and cornmeal.  It was time for some comfort, and I wanted all of it as fast as I could get it.

Did it help?  Of course it did.  For just a few moments at least, while the house filled slowly with the aromas of slow-simmering beans, cornbread baking in the oven and potatoes sizzling in their traditional cast-iron skillet I didn’t have to worry about anything more than whether or not I needed more seasoning, or if the heat was too high.  At the end I sank into bed full and content, just as warm and cozy as I would have been when my mother still tucked me off to sleep at night.  All-in-all, it was a good day, and the stress of the world could wait for the morning.

This is more a collection of variations than a set of recipes, but I’m pretty confident that at least a few of you will enjoy some of the differences from the originals.  I’ll link to the original basic recipe, then list the changes for each dish in turn. You may just find that one of these recipes ends up on your permanent list of comfort foods as well.

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Popularity: 1% [?]

I may not have been born Texan, but Texas is where I call home these days and proudly so at that. Texas has been good to both my wife and I from the day we set foot here and even though we’re sure to leave her eventually, for now I’m Texan, and a piece of my heart will always be in the Lone Star State. A part of me will always be Texan. The place is just like that, it can’t help itself.

Having said that, you might be able to surmise how tickled I was to get a message from the Texas Beef Council asking me to help spread the word about Texas Beef.   We really don’t need to go into all the yelling and carrying on that happened on this end of that conversation, so let’s just say I was happy to accept shall we? The nice folks over at Texas Beef sent me a few recipes and a $25.00 prepaid card to buy whatever ingredients I’d need for the party, which was nice of them since I would have done it on my own dime anyway.

After looking over our choices, my wife and I decided on the Gazpacho Steak Salad. It looked pretty refreshing for days still well into the 90’s with an average 45% humidity and it sounded a bit different from the dishes we’d been having over the past few weeks, which would make for an interesting change of pace, so I set off for the store to get what I needed and got to work.

Of course I couldn’t follow the directions 100%, could I? That’s not in my nature unless bread making is involved. (which is why I leave that up to my wife when possible).  Not only did I forget I’d used up one of the ingredients, but I managed to misread the recipe in the process of making the dish, though neither change was that large a departure from the original.

My thoughts?  Well, you’ll have to read through my version of the recipe to get those.  I wouldn’t want to give everything away at the very beginning of the story.

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Popularity: 1% [?]

I know that most people probably don’t think of collard greens as a part of their holiday table, but for my family they will be made every thanksgiving from now on. This dish was served last night to our dear friends Mike and Naomia, under threat of bodily injury from N. herself. (Seriously, she threatened me!) The last time I made these greens, M. was out of town, and I was told that he, and all of my readers, needed to try the “best greens she’d ever had”. (High praise for a girl from Mississippi, especially when talking to an Irish boy from California.)

I’m all for special request meals, especially for family and friends. They give me a chance to make something that’s guaranteed to make someone smile, and smile we did, but they were bittersweet at best.

N. was one of the first people my then girlfriend introduced me to when I moved to Texas in 2005. She made me feel welcome in a new place, has always been there with a bright smile and a hug when needed. she was the first person in Texas we told about our engagement and stood at our wedding with as many tears on her ebony face as we had on ours. We were the first to know of her engagement, and were at her wedding as well. We’ve been through a lot together in a short time, but it has been good, all of it.

By the time Naomia reads this entry, she will be with her family for Thanksgiving. From there she will be moving to her new duty station in Japan. When we said goodbye last night, it was for real.

In my life I’ve seen a lot of people come and go. In the military it’s just a fact of life, but it’s rare that someone manages to become such a part of your family’s life that it’s hard to imagine life without them in it.

This is one of those times.

So, Miss Naomia, I wish you well. Remember that no matter where your travels take you, there will always be a plate of greens waiting for you on our holiday table. I’ll even make sure Mike has some rice to go with it. You’re family, and family always has a place in our home.

Oh, and tell your mother we said hello.

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Popularity: 1% [?]

When the weather gets warmer, it’s time for a bit lighter fare. This salad was the perfect answer to the heat of a Texas spring day. Crisp, refreshing and light, with the zing of a fresh vinaigrette to perk up the palette.

I used a store bought bag greens mix containing frisee, arugula, romaine, red leaf lettuce and carrots, though this would be just as wonderful with baby spinach or plain-ol’ romaine. You can also substitute your favorite crumbled cheese for the feta, if you’re not a fan.

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Popularity: 1% [?]