Kashi If You Can

I was pretty entertained the other day when I stumbled across a post on Chowhound that described most Kashi cereals as being designed by a "stern, ascetic, pucker-mouthed wraith" who produces "rabbit-food-like items". Funny? Yes. And also, sadly, true.

Now, the post was actually complimenting the Kashi cereal that seems to be the exception to the rule--their Autumn Wheat cereal, which I will say, is quite lovely and good, although a little on the sweet side for me. On the strength of that cereal, I thought I'd try one of their Go Lean Crunch cereals this week. Its major appeal? High protein content, which is a must in our house (A. and I tend to exercise pretty obsessively).

What I failed to pay attention to, although I should have, was the staggeringly high sugar content in these supposedly healthy cereals. A whopping 13 grams--that's almost as much as there is in Cocoa Puffs! (Interestingly, Cocoa Puffs also has about half the fat of the Kashi cereal I grabbed--1.5 grams vs. 3 grams). As A. said as soon as he took his first bite, "It's like eating caramel corn." For breakfast. With milk. Ick. I don't care where that sugar is coming from, sugar is sugar, and I don't know how lean you're going to be sucking down 13 grams of it every morning for breakfast.

I'm not normally the type to judge a cereal based on aesthetics (I do, after all, eat Shredded Wheat 'n' Bran on a regular basis), but the Go Lean cereal really did look a bit sad. And yes, it does look like rabbit food. Or the sweet feed we used to give to the horses (which is coated in molasses and tastes almost exactly like this cereal. I think I've just figured out where they got this idea from).

Needless to say, I won't be dipping back into the Kashi well. Yes, the protein content is high, but so is everything else. I think I'll stick with my nice, boring Shredded Wheat topped with a few blueberries, thanks!

Scallop Stumped

I need to work on my scallop recipe.

For some reason, I had an inexplicable urge to make scallops this weekend. Maybe it's the fact that I've finally found somewhere to buy nice, fat, fresh ones for less than $15 a pound (the amazing Asian grocery store less than 10 minutes away in Plainsboro--one of my new favorite food stops). I don't make scallops often. In fact, I can't remember the last time I did them, but I had made up my mind, and yesterday I got my hands on eight plump, ocean-smelling beauties.

In the summer, I tend to lean towards light flavors when I cook. Acids like lemon and lime, and lots of fresh herbs, which, I'm proud to say, I've managed to keep alive in a small planter on our front porch. I know scallops have a pretty delicate flavor, so my plan was to marinate them in some olive oil, lemon juice, and sage and serve them with a nice gremolata (a finely minced combination of parsley, herbs, garlic, and lemon zest).

Sorry to say, it wasn't my greatest success. For one thing, I think I marinated the scallops for too long. And the gremolata tasted bitter, no matter what I did to try and tamp that particular flavor down. I thought cooking down the marinade and using it as a sauce might help, since the acid would cut the bitter taste. Well, that was a mistake. All I tasted was acid. It overwhelmed the delicate flavor of the scallops and hit my stomach like a lemony spike. Luckily, I did a caprese salad as a side dish, and both A. and I shoved the tomatoes aside and inhaled the mozzarella instead. The white wine we were drinking, though nice, didn't help with the acidity hit either.

Oh well, you live, you learn. Now I know to go a little easier on the lemon next time, use all herbs instead of parsley, maybe. This is how you figure out what works and what doesn't--and that's what intuitive cooking is all about. Hopefully tonight's fajitas will go a little better!

Who Can't Cook?

A startling number of my friends claim they can't cook. I'm not sure I buy it. I have yet to meet anyone in real life who doesn't know how to turn on an oven or a stove and put a pot in or on it. Know how to boil water? Toss in an egg or some pasta--you're cooking!

I think what people who say they can't cook actually mean is that they don't know how ingredients go together. They don't know how flavors work together. They've got the basic fundamentals, but they don't know how to take the next step, look at what they have in the refrigerator, and make a full meal out of it. That can be tough, and intimidating. It takes practice. I used to be in awe of my mother when I was young, because she could do that, and because I watched and helped her do it, once I moved out of my parents' home, I could do it too. My roommates were amazed!

That's intuitive cooking, to me. Looking at a few ingredients, grabbing the ones that go well together, tossing them in a pan, and putting it on a plate. I do it almost every day--rarely do I use an actual recipe (except when baking, but that's a whole other thing). Of course, to be able to do this, you have to know what all the ingredients taste like, which means you have to eat. A lot.

Eating, sadly, has been stigmatized in this country. Unlike in France, where food is a sensual experience, or Italy, where it's all about nourishment and family, here in the US food has, for many years, been looked at askance. It makes us fat! No it doesn't. Too much junk food makes you fat. Good food--fresh food--is a good thing.

Happily, it seems that Americans are starting to come around on the idea of food. There are trainee foodies everywhere, and God knows how many food blogs, so there's hope yet. I'm happy about that, because food has put up with so much abuse--coming out of cans for decades, bizarre flavor combinations--that it's about time fresh food started being appreciated again. It's no longer impossible to find a nice cut of meat or a great farmers' market (at least in NJ, where I live). Food is cool again, and I'm hoping it won't be long before even the most die-hard 'can't cooks' jump on the bandwagon and start experimenting with quinoa and jicama (though maybe not together). When they do, I hope one or two of them will invite me over.

Bon appetit!