Food for thought

Why do white people eat so many casseroles? I don’t think I ever had a casserole while growing up – unless mac and cheese is a casserole. 

I love to cook and get several emails a day from cooking sites. Almost daily comes another recipe for a casserole including links to things like “Grandma’s 142 favorite casseroles.” I have yet to try any.

Southern Living magazine has an article “Why do Southerners make casseroles?” saying “These 12 recipes will tell you exactly why Southerners, if given a chance, will almost always make a casserole”. Actually, the title should be “Why do White Southerners make casseroles.” Not one of the recipes appeals to me.

The magazine also announced “50 Bake And Take Casseroles Your Neighbors Will Love.” If my neighbors brought me a casserole, I would consider moving.

What about “15 irresistible au gratin potato recipes”. Fifteen? Is au gratin a casserole?

Is baked ziti a casserole?

Growing up I thought that you ate because it prevented you from starving to death. My mother was an awful cook. She knew it. But Dad was worse. Once when Mother was in the hospital, Dad cooked us breakfast but we could not recognize what he put on our plates. My brother and I took over the cooking until Mother got back. She used to joke that if she were dying that Dad would ask her to cook him dinner before she died.

I had never had a fresh mushroom. Italian was canned Chef Boyardee (to the day she died Mom hated pasta). All eggs were soft scrambled. All meat was floured and fried except for turkey and roasts – although once she deep fried a pork roast. There was a grease can on the stove. All vegetables were cooked to death so that the only way we could tell them was by the color. She fried squash and boiled okra. I refused to eat them then and won’t eat them now. Her biscuits were from a can. However, I looked forward to the winter because Mom’s growing up on a farm meant that in the winter we got breakfasts with fried catfish and grits and fried pork chops and grits. Dad loved fried oysters and grits (with Mother’s canned biscuits). I grew up thinking oysters were a breakfast food. When I first saw oysters on a dinner menu I was shocked. It was like seeing bacon and eggs for dinner.

At Georgia, the cafeteria food wasn’t great but it was different. The cooks were all black and cooked southern. But there were fresh mushrooms, vegetables that were not overcooked, pastas and eggs over easy (which would have probably caused my mother to retch). I also had my very first omelets, baked chicken and marinara sauce. The cooks always managed to sneak something onto my plate like an extra piece of ham. Soon I realized that there was joy in eating and kept discovering flavors as I learned to cook. Mother once remarked how my brother and I learned to be such good cooks because we obviously didn’t learn it from her. My brother was really skilled and after he retired from flying airplanes actually studied to be a chef.

My food enlightenment started when I lived in Konstanz am Bodensee finishing my dissertation while visiting at the University of Konstanz. The local cuisine opened my eyes. Back in the states, pizza was just being introduced and tasted like tomato sauce spread on cardboard with cheese sprinkled on top. In Konstanz the local pizzeria had wonderful pizzas, calzones and pasta. Here I had my first taste of pesto in pasta and on pizza and knew that this was confirmation that there was a god. My favorite pizza was spargel (asparagus) pizza with pesto. I thought about expatriating knowing what food I would face when I got back to the states. But I was homesick. So much so that I asked my mother to send me some red dirt. She sent it in a small box and I was called into the customs office and asked “Was ist das?” I said “dirt”. “Schmutz?” “Ja. Schmutz.” They just shook their heads, handed me my box of Georgia red dirt and let me go.

I moved back to the states and took my first job at the University of Florida in 1971. I weighed 235 pounds having sat on my behind during the four years in graduate school eating mostly fast foods. In Gainesville I lived in the same complex as the great marathoner Frank Shorter. Inspired I started to lose weight by changing my diet and started to run. I eliminated all meat having read that the great boxer Archie Moore who fought in several weight categories would stop eating meat if he wanted to lose weight. So I stopped eating meat and all fried foods. I gradually lost weight and kept running. I started running in the local races. I was no Frank Shorter and in my first marathon I was passed by a race walker. But eventually I was running a weekly 10K, two half marathons and a fully marathon yearly. I now weighted 165.

When invited to eat at friends, I would tell them that I did not eat any meat but cook whatever you want and I would eat the vegetables and salads. I did eat fish because fishing became a passion. Gainesville had great fresh water fishing and quick access to salt water. Later when I moved to Knoxville, I was fishing with a friend weekly until deer season when he quit fishing to hunt. He took me one day and although I did not see anything living, I became addicted to the solitude and peacefulness. I relived my memories of following my grandfather around the family farm in Gray, GA with my little 22 while he hunted squirrels or rabbits. Since I was now hunting deer, I ate them and to this day, the only red meat I eat is what I kill myself.

I would rather eat my cooking than at any local restaurant. But I always crave Nashville’s Hattie B’s fried chicken. I have yet to duplicate it in my kitchen and all the places that advertise Nashville Hot Chicken are just a parody of the real thing. I also do not cook Chinese at home or Indian. When my son was going to UT we would eat at a local Indian restaurant once a week. I love curried dishes but don’t care for the smells in my house.

One of my favorite memories is when my son was around six he was asked what was his favorite food and he said ziti with pesto.

In Knoxville, the local cuisine is bland – straight down the line middle American. Ruby Tuesday’s started here as did Wendy’s. I miss the food in DC. The local Chinese restaurants were spectacular, especially the chili crabs and escargot. The Cuban restaurant’s cuttlefish in its own ink was to die for even if it looked like the crankcase of a 49 Ford. The Italian restaurants were great and every pizza place I ventured into while in New York was excellent. I can’t believe that the Greenie Weenies want to ban New York’s wood fired pizza ovens. 

Yet I would rather live in Knoxville than in DC or New York. The quality of life is hard to beat.