Four Years Later, It's Still About Hope and Change

The Fall of 2008 was a dark time for me personally. The previous 8 years had put me in a long-term, deep depression. Two elections had been stolen from the American people and fear, lies and war dominated the American landscape. A crippling financial storm rolled in to blanket the country, and those who created it slunk quietly out of town with no repercussions and their pockets stuffed with your savings. Jobs dried up and pay was cut for many, with employers admonishing those who remained, “You should feel lucky you still have your job.” I am grateful I have a job and am working. But, I do not feel “lucky” about having a job. Luck has nothing to do with me earning my place in the work force or keeping my job. I accepted that I had been kept under thumb by a frozen economy while making the same salary for the last 8 years, but that I also had the power to change that.

I cast my vote for our current President that November because his opponent showed little sign that he would do anything other than extend the failed policies of his predecessor. 

Barack Obama ran on a platform of “Hope and Change” with many campaign promises. So many people like to focus on the ones that were not kept. But, for a man who promised hope and change, he delivered on the promise of both hope and change to me and many of the people I care about. 

I for one would have loved to have seen President Bush, Dick Cheney, Donald Rumsfeld and Condoleeza Rice prosecuted for war crimes and perjury, but our President decided it was more productive to move forward and not back. He went, instead, after the Wall Street criminals who abused the system to personally gain and rob Americans of billions of dollars of their hard-earned money. 

Obama ended the Iraq war instead, hitting them where it hurt most. Naturally, this upset those cashing in on the profits of war. And just as importantly, on his second day of office, he reversed torture policies of the Bush administration known as “enhanced interrogation techniques”. Perhaps Americans against Obama forget what it felt like to wake up every morning and read how disliked America was for our conduct in the Iraq and Afghanistan wars. Or that we had given up fundamental civil rights (Patriot Act) “for our protection”. I do not. Maybe they just miss the fear-mongering that gave them a false sense of nationalism. 

My gay and lesbian friends couldn’t safely serve in the military, to say nothing of doing so openly or with pride, but now they can. And, while same sex marriage is decided by the states, knowing our President thinks everyone should be treated equally is indeed hope that our country can move closer to a day when we all actually get the freedoms guaranteed us by the Constitution. 

President Obama fought for and won what so many before him had failed at: a fight for a health policy that is inclusive and fair for a majority of Americans. If you admire tenacity in a leader, you have to admire his determination and commitment to keep a promise that for so many other candidates would have just been a campaign talking point (i.e. 12 million new jobs). 

Passing credit card reform may seem like a minor issue, and no one seems to talk about it, but how many people are able to make ends meet now that they aren’t persecuted for being one day late with a payment and then having their balance jacked up for over-the-limit fees applied and criminally high interest rates for doing so?

Eliminating the Bush administration’s restrictions on stem-cell research has allowed countless discoveries to be made that further the study of diseases that shorten the lives of our young and old. We all know someone affected by Alzheimer’s and dementia, as well as childhood cancer. How was this bad for our country? 

There’s your change, America. And only a tiny portion of it. 

Now, how about hope?

With the passing of four years, I have hope that America is moving in a direction where everyone has a chance to live the American dream, not just those with privilege and access to power. 

I have hope that with all the education reform of the last four years and the reversal of the failed No Child Left Behind policy that our young people will get the education they need and deserve to live that dream. And, that the reform in school nutrition under the Healthy Hunger-Free Kids Act will allow them access to better and healthier meals that help stem obesity and a reliance on the medical crutch that so many are reliant upon today. 

I have hope that the economy will continue to gain confidence so that so many people who have lost jobs (and are infinitely qualified to hold them) can return to work, earn a living and have pride in a doing a full day’s work. I have hope that those whose pay was cut can return to being rewarded for their hard work and competitive nature, because nothing kills a person’s spirit more than knowing they will never get a raise or bonus for their hard work because “times are tough”. Bullshit. Employers: if you think you’re being held hostage by workers’ wages now, wait until the economy fully rebounds and these people start their own businesses (a.k.a your competition). Yes, you see I can believe in my President AND capitalism and a free economy. 

I have hope that my daughter can and will read about this dark time in our history and learn from the mistakes of human greed and fear. From ignorance and bigotry. To know that a lie is a lie, and that those who speak them says volumes about that person, especially those seeking to govern. That she will grow and come to realize that every time her mother and father told her that her body is her own and that no one should tell her what she must do to protect her health and happiness, was not a lie, but a reality and a right. 

I know that four years later supporting the policies of an administration, while imperfect, has vastly improved (or will improve) the lives of more Americans who hadn’t those chances before, and was the right choice. 

I reject your labels of liberal, left-wing, Democrat, socialist, communist, free-loader or whatever bullshit tag you may be mumbling to yourself right now. I am and have always been a registered Independent, and I pride myself on being an intelligent, articulate and free-thinking human being with common sense. These are not regurgitated talking points of the left, but my own observations as an active member of our society and of the political process. I care enough to know what the hell is going on.

I know that when someone who craves power, money and position so much that they will say and do anything to wield that power, should never, ever be allowed to govern this country, ever AGAIN. 

Put aside your fears. We are better than this.

Finally, why more Americans aren’t outraged at Congress and Speaker of the House John Boehner and his obstructive politics of “hold our breath until we get our way”, is staggering. People: Congress makes and votes on the laws that make our lives better or worse. To accept the gridlock of the last two years as partisan politics is apathy at its absolute worst. It is a criminal waste of two years of an opportunity to get our country out of the hole that President Bush put us in, and Governor Romney says he can fix. As citizens, you have an obligation to throw those who have contributed to a frozen government OUT on the street November 6.

If the Mayans were right about 2012 being the end of civilization, it will be as a result of a Romney presidency. And I can tell you this: there is no way in Hell I intend to take it lying down.

R.S.V.PLEASE!

Oh, woe is the chef-come-writer who uses his platform to bemoan a pervasive social faux pas.  I confess I run the risk of showing even a touch of gray just implying that times have changed.  But alas, sometimes there’s a vacancy on the soap box, and you have to step up.

The French term RSVP means “répondez s’il vous plait”, translated: “Please reply.”  It’s considered an older way of ending an invite, but anyone who has ever thrown a party or event can tell you it’s critical to the success of an evening. 

These days, we get a lot of “Regrets Only,” implying, “Everyone is coming, right?  No? Okay, then let me know.”  The major difference?  No “please”.  But, old-school or not, replying to an invite isn’t just proper etiquette and good manners, it’s required of the invitee to allow the event planners time to accommodate their guests.  Not doing so is flat out inconsiderate, and there isn’t any other word, polite or rude, to describe it. So- WTF?

We live in an age where it is impossible to hide behind the guise of missing someone’s message.  Some people are so tied into their electronic devices that their actions become almost Pavlovian when the chimes or vibrations begin.  A flip, a slide- a quick glance, and then back in the pocket, waiting for more important messages to arrive.  And you can’t “unsend” or “leave as unread” like the early days of AOL without notifying the sender the jig is up.  In other words, you’ve got no excuse, lame or otherwise.

That doesn’t mean people won’t make them.  One online discussion on the topic had this take:  “I think the problem is we are all so over scheduled that we no longer appreciate…being considered! We resent having one more thing to do”.  Well, that’s pretty shitty.  You resent my invitation?  “Well how about this- Suck it! You’re off the list Miss Popular Pants!” (An empty threat if ever there was one.  We all have, like, 400 facebook “friends” and 750 followers on Twitter, but try getting 10 of them together for one night?  Pfffft.) 

Maybe we are over-committed.  If so, it’s a sad commentary on modern society.   When you were in college and went to a party, you brought what you planned to drink or ponyed up some cash for the keg.  You were lucky if there were Doritos.  Then came the pot-luck dinners.  Also, pretty easy considering all you do is bring one thing, and get to eat, like, six.

But, as you got older and got invited to someone’s house for dinner, you began to notice how most of the time it was completely on the host to provide snacks, beverage, dinner and –gasp- dessert, too?  All that was required of you was to bring a small token of your appreciation (a.k.a. host gift); and it never hurt to ask if you could contribute in any way, even if the answer was “no thank you”.  So, let’s review:  free dinner, free booze, small thank you- and you can’t even reply “yes or no”??

No soup for you!

I’ve always tried to treat an invite like the puck in a hockey game, and I’m the goalie: as soon as it comes in, I shoot it back out.  The longer I wait, the more unlikely it is I will attend.  And, I’m as guilty as the next person of leaving the puck in the net.  But, some people are habitual non-responders.  It reaches the point of seeming like the radio silence is because a commitment could be detrimental to the recipient if something better comes up.  Well now, aren't we popular?  I’ve tried using the oh-so-hip text message invite, not even requesting an RSVP.  After all, most people reply to texts, even if abbreviated.  But, then there’s that awkward silence that follows and you wonder if you texted the right person or some errant communications satellite instead.  And you can pretty much predict the replies that will come once the event is over.  “So tired, crashed early.”  “My phone was off”.  “Solar flare took out my 3G service.” 

Perhaps the biggest conundrum associated with this phenomenon is the person who doesn’t RSVP but shows up anyway.  There can be no possible explanation for this, other than Alzheimer’s.  Now, before you go getting all sensitive, I’m serious.  A condition that affects memory is a legit excuse for not responding to an invite.  NOT having that condition is NOT an excuse.  You slap on a tie and roll up with a smile and an appetite, but it never occurs to you everyone is looking at you like you rose from the dead in fishnets and a boa?  And who is it awkward for?  Well, obviously not you.  In the mean time, a furtive scrambling goes on trying to make it look like you are finally here and the party can start.  

No, I’ve given this a lot of thought.  Even if you allowed for percentages of people who don’t reply, the numbers are still way off.  One of the easiest invites to reply to is the kids’ party invite.  “Thanks for invite, prior engagement, blah blah blah” and you’re done.   But, you have no idea- or maybe I’m preaching to the playground- how many people can’t even slap that one back.  “Reply by” dates on written invites help only a fraction.  And leaving two numbers and an email address to reply should increase the odds.  Yet, some people just have a block.

It’s enough to make you want to go all Samuel L. Jackson on someone’s ass.

I favor a more direct, blunt approach.  “PLEASE RESPOND TO THIS INVITE OR THIS PARTY/DINNER/EVENT WILL BE CANCELLED DUE TO INCOSIDERATION ON THE PART OF THE ATTENDEES.”  

Soup anyone?

F&C Rewind: Feeling Crabby

If there is one item I could live without ever ordering, preparing or seeing on a menu again, it's the crab cake.  It's become the most egregiously made, bastardized dish throughout the mid-Atlantic, with variations so vast, it's no wonder locals are so visceral in their opinions on the subject. 

For me, it begins with what people come to expect in a crab cake.  If there is anything other than boulder-sized chunks of crab in front of them, they complain of "too much filler".  Ughgh.  I'll get back to that, but I think it must stem from what people don't know about making these local delicacies.  The crab cake should be primarily crab with seasonings that complement the sweetness of the meat.  It should be moist and tender, properly seasoned, and it should hold together as it slides off a spatula and onto your plate or bun.  

Smarter cooks know that the fewer ingredients you use in a dish, the more you must respect the ones you do use. All those lovely lumps of precious crabmeat are held in trapezoidal compartments within the crab, and they're delicately extracted and separated into and sold as the valuable categories of jumbo lump, backfin, lump and claw meat.  Experienced crab eaters would never discriminate and abandon all the briny goodness that comes from eating all the various types of meats from their crustacean cronies.  But, try using something other than jumbo lump, and the average Joe screams heresy.  They are unaware that the only way to keep a crab cake bound together is to use complementary ingredients that help hold them into the signature "cake" form.  The intense and sweet flavor is often given from using a combination of the jumbo AND claw meat.  The delicate nature of the claw/leg meat (like that of the Jonah crab) also helps to bind when mixed with the base.  So, my ill-informed filler-fanatics, crab claw meat that binds, is still crab.  It's a wise use of crab meat and if you are going to produce them in volume, it helps keep them at a reasonable price.

Typically a little bit of egg, bread or mousse combination is used to help bind these two flavorful types of crab meat.  Egg alone will not do the trick, but adding fresh white, doughy bread crumbs, like from Wonderbread, help hold the crab together.  Taking the protein of shrimp or scallops and combining in a processor with egg white and heavy cream will give you a delicate mousse that is both flavorful and does the trick nicely of binding the crab.  Beyond that, what else you put in is a matter of taste.  Avoid putting in anything that will detract from the main flavor or cause too much moisture or dryness, and you've got your own personal version of the dish that made Maryland famous.  So, why then do so many of them suck?

For all the crab cakes I loathe, it is mostly because they are mass produced for a homogenized appeal.  Each chef has their own idea of what a good crab cake is, and very often it's one that appeals to the masses.  Nothing wrong with selling a lot of crab cakes, I suppose.  Hey, Yugo sold a lot of cars, too.  But, I'm long since past ordering one in a restaurant, simply because I know I will be disappointed.  Give me a softshell crab, on the other hand, and it successfully captures all the things I love about a properly made crab cake:  crispy, toothsome texture, held together nicely in it's own natural sauce and it's as about as "pure" as it gets.  Slap on a little remoulade or equally gooey-tart sauce on a toasted, buttery bun, and my hankering for a sandwich of fresh crab is satisfactorily sated.

I don't hate the crab cake.  Really.  And I'm certainly not being snobby about it.  In fact, I love them so much, it's out of respect for their uniqueness that I sound off.  So, I guess you could say that I am being a bit of a purist.  And, just to show you how much I care, I'm going to share my recipe as long as you promise to make them for only two people.  Four, at the most.  And not another crab cake more.

The main concept behind making this version of a crab cake for only a few people is that it forces you to concentrate on following the recipe and to not cut corners.  Additionally, when you've mastered making these, you'll feel as though each time you make them again, it will be for people you really love and want to spoil.  You'll be giving them something they can't get anywhere for any price!  Now you know why some chefs don't give up recipes.  So, for you, my faithful Fork-N-Corkers, I am willing to make an exception, all in the name of respect for that little puck of tide-water goodness: the regal crab cake.

Robear's Secret Crab Cake Recipe

Makes four 5 oz. crab cakes

• 8 oz. fresh jumbo lump crab meat
• 8 oz. fresh crab claw meat
• 1 small onion, small dice
• 2 ribs celery, small dice
• 4 oz. whole butter
• 3 leaves fresh basil
• Juice of 1 lemon
• 1 teaspoon Old Bay seasoning
• 1 dash or two of Tabasco
• 1 dash of Worcestershire sauce
• 1 egg
• 1/4 cup mayonnaise 
• 1 tablespoon dijon mustard
• 2 pieces fresh white bread, broken into small pieces
• Salt and White pepper

In 2 oz. of butter gently cook the celery and onions until soft.  Do not brown.  Add the Old Bay and basil.  Remove the mixture including the butter and set aside to cool.  


Combine the wet ingredients in a bowl and mix until just combined.  This is your base.  After you pick through your crab to remove shells, you will use it to bind the crab together along with the bread crumbs.  Season with salt and dashes of white pepper.  TASTE!  If you feel as though you could eat the whole thing right there, it's ready.  Fold the crab, fresh bread crumbs and some of the base together until it can hold it's own shape.  Resist using the entire mixture.  You are meant to have extra, but this is where people screw up:  when they add all the base, they try to compensate by adding more bread to dry it up, and this is where the perception of "too much filler" comes from.  You can always add more if you really need it, but the key concept here is to barely bind those ingredients together without turning it into a seafood meatball.


Form four cakes onto a plate, cover and refrigerate for at least an hour.  This is also a key step: don't skip it!


When it's time to cook, turn your oven to 355F.  In a non-stick pan, put a couple tablespoon of oil and heat the pan to medium hot (only lightly smoking).  Use a spatula to gently lift the crab cakes and place them in the pan.  Add the remaining 2 oz of butter now.  First, the pan will sizzle, then it will subside.  It will build back up to a hiss first (that's the steam) and then finally return to a sizzle.  When you see that the edges are beginning to brown, use your spatula and with both hands slowly turn the cakes.  Place the whole pan in the oven for 12-15 minutes.  Serve immediately from the pan.  


Open some pinot blanc, Macon chardonnay or other white to complement the sweetness of the crab.  Bon appetit! 

Randomonium

Sometimes I miss Facebook.  Sometimes.  I ditched it last year in the Spring after an epiphany.  The epiphany was more like the blunt realization that I was wasting huge amounts of time.  But, I enjoyed writing posts that weren't necessarily part of a thesis or blog topic, per se.  Random, opinionated observations.  And so, here are some recent ones.

Upon launching the newly revamped website for DelawareOnline.com, the first bolded, marquee headline of our illustrious local news source read, "Was Lyndsay Lohan's Dress Appropriate for Court"? This, of course, during the historic tumult in the Middle East. "Well," I thought, "at least we're rid of that annoying-as-shit Horizon Heating and Plumbing ad that scrolls up and down like a yo-yo every single time you move your cursor, much less move it over the ad."  In comparison, that ad seemed harmless compared now to the one Horizon has graduated to:  the full-on, top of the page, gradual unfolding ad banner that even folds back up slowly when you hit "close".  Like one Facebooker said of Delaware Online website:  they have more pop-ups than a porn site.

Current favorite random t-shirt

Today, it was a marvelous high of 70 degrees in Wilmington!  We've had a nice little run, actually, of warm days this week.  But, it was today's weather that actually helped the City of Wilmington regain what has to be about 20% of it's parking.  Granted, there are still some major icebergs, but mostly in major parking lots where there is, well- major parking.  But, Trolley Square was starting to resemble a Third World country with streets more suited for tram cars.  What is it about snow that turns normal, college-educated people into complete and total idiots?  

I'm really digging the new show on the Independent Film Channel, Portlandia. Most people I've talked to have heard of it.  I read a little blurb about it last month and decided to give it a shot.  Having never been to Portland, I have spent more than a fair-share of latte time hanging out with people who lived there.  Let's just say, it's dead on.  Created by and starring Fred Armisen and Carrie Brownstein, it's a half-hour of random characters and situations that poke fun at the infinitely pokable Portlandites.  (Is it me, or is President Obama actually starting to look more like Fred Armisen?"  Anyone who nails a restaurant meme like they did, I'm gonna watch more.

One of the episodes has a cameo by singer Aimee Mann, who plays herself as Fred and Carrie's housekeeper.  Now, I love me some Aimee Mann, but the timing was uncanny, as this week, the refurbished Queen Theatre in Wilmington along with WXPN World Cafe Live announced Mann will play in April!  What could possibly not be any cooler is that the other day while in the car with my 4 year old daughter, I was playing Til Tuesday's "Rip in Heaven"; she sat quietly and listened to it in its entirety, and then asked if I would play it again.  Now we listen to it every day.  She has a great ear, that one. ( BTW, for a great laugh, click on the link above to watch Dave Letterman introduce TT in the late 80s on his show.  Aimee?  HOT.  Dave?  Not so much.)

Speaking of hot blonds from the 80s:  Debbie Harry and Blondie have a new album coming out this year, Panic of Girls. They've announced tour dates for Europe, as well. 

In Lambertville, New Jersey sits a little restaurant that has to be one of my favorite places, Hamilton's Grill Room.  I'm not going to tell you stories about the food, atmosphere or times I've eaten there.  Go there yourself and try it.  But, what I do want to talk about is a local artist who captures one of my favorite genres in painting, en plein air.  Robert Beck of Buck's County, PA exquisitely captures the feel of an open restaurant kitchen, crowded terrace or dining room, including those of Hamilton's.  His is the kind of painting that makes you want to climb in, order a drink and let the buzz of a place build. It's like a snapshot of a time you wish you had spent.  Please visit his site, but more than that, go visit his gallery and say, "hello".  And stop at The Boathouse for a drink, while you're at it.

No. 9 Kitchen  by Robert Beck

Phillies fever is really starting to take hold for me, now.  It's so nice to be able to pick and choose articles about the players readying for the 2011 season while ignoring the elephant in the room, if you choose to.  For those sports writers outside of Philadelphia, there is nothing else to talk about other than the Phils' boning their season despite the once-in-a-lifetime pitching rotation.  I"m not even going to speculate.  But, I'll say this:  I like their chances.  

This was fun.  Let's do it again, soon...

Thanksgiving 2010: Musings, Tips and Advice for the Wary

Last week, President Obama used a term to describe his impression of the outcome of the mid-term elections.  He said the Dems took a "shellacking" (personally, I liked Baby Bush's description in '06- "We took a thumpin'!"- better).  I thought immediately of the type of photo above and how much disdain I have for food magazines that depict the stereotypical, impossibly glassy roast bird on their November covers when there are so many other non-literal and beautiful foods that make the holiday memorable.  But, hey- sex sells.  More apropos would be a king-sized bottle of Xanax next to some cranberry sauce and pumpkin pie.  So, irrespective of my pet peeves, I've decided to lead off my holiday post anyway with the Turkey as imagined by Rustoleum.

Here are some thoughts on the upcoming holiday.

Today, I read an interesting piece in the Los Angeles Times about how food affects moods, notably, the chemical reactions that take place in the brain- and which ones are real and which are myth.  Among the ones that didn't surprise me (coffee improves energy and mental performance- um, duh.), there were a couple that did.  Eating turkey, for example, it is shown does not induce sleepiness.  

"...each molecule of tryptophan has to compete with many other amino acids to get into the brain, says Elizabeth Somer, a registered dietitian and author of Eat Your Way to Happiness. A Thanksgiving feast will make you groggy, but tryptophan isn't the reason..." 

Or how about chocolate as the cure-all, aphrodisiac, natural-high?  Not so much.

"...chocolate contains many components with the potential to enhance mood, but the chemical effect of each of them is small. It does have low levels of stimulants, but you can get a lot more from other substances," she says. The caffeine content is very low, so coffee is better for that kind of kick (see?). The sugar might give a temporary lift, but it's subtle. And the phenylethylamine that people say is supposed to make you feel in love — well, many foods, including salami, are much higher in phenylethylamine." 

Got that?  Salami, folks.

While we're on the subject of turkey, one of the age-old Autumn quandaries is, "When is the bird done?"  I can tell you that any turkey that comes with a pre-inserted pop-up belly-button is going to be drier than Regis Philbin's jokes.  It's set to pop at 170 F.  This relieves the producer of anyone getting sick if they may have pulled it early.  But, in reality, you can pull it at 160 F and it'll carry over a few degrees, be safe, tender and moist.  That's my story, and I'm sticking to it. You don't want to know what temp I pull it at.  And, all my family is still alive.  Do yourself a favor: get yourself a probe- instant read-out, easy to clean, digital thermometer:  they're twenty bucks. 

Are you cooking for 10 or more?  Just as prized as the second dishwasher has to be the second microwave.  Think about it.  You get everything together early, seasoned and ready to rock- and it's time to pull the trigger on dinner.  You actually have more plates than people, and by the time you get them all to the table some are warm, none are hot.  Letdown.  Load 'em on, zap 'em up, send 'em OUT! Yahhh!!

We're approaching Beaujolais Nouveau time, that third Thursday in November when we're treated to one month-old wine which is usually drunk within two.  I like to think of it as headache in a bottle.  Because it's only barely been fermented 6-8 weeks, comes from the lowest quality vineyards in Beaujolais and is produced in excess of 49 million liters each year.  With Thanksgiving falling so close to the release, consumers typically pay $1-2 more a bottle because stores know they need to have it, and the French know it.  JUST SAY "NO".  

Gamay, on the other hand, the principal grape producing the historic crus of Beaujolais as well as the swill in clown-colored bottles, is ideal for the multi-flavored meal in mid-November because of its versatility.  This isn't really to get you away from drinking other suitable wines for Turkey Day, as much as it is to say- "Hey, if you're gonna drink gamay, why not drink a good one?" The Domaine Ricard Le Clos de Vauriou from the Touraine is one I'll be sipping- or I should say, one I have been sipping for the last six months. Always served with a slight chill on it, it was a great red for a grilled Tuna Nicoise salad in the heat of summer, not to mention a nice bridge to the heartier and earthier foods of Fall.  And now, with everything from pumpkins, mushrooms and turnips on the buffet, to Turkey, salmon, apples and sage- gamay, especially this one, is my choice for Turkey Wine 2010.  And, how does $12 a bottle sound?

The next part is...uncomfortable.  It involves the subject of multiple desserts. 

I enjoy desserts just as much as the next person.  I appreciate the time and effort put into a nice homemade pie or torte, or miniature cakes and cookies.  But, I gotta tell ya' when there are six or more choices for dessert, I can only eat one, maybe two of those choices after all that other food before I approach hemorrhage stage.  And I FEEL BAD for those people who made them when only one piece is taken or, God forbid- NO ONE has touched them because they lost the popularity contest or simply because the desserts have outnumbered the guests.  HOST and HOSTESSES this falls squarely on you.  Now, I know you're going to say that everyone gets to take them home- yadda, yadda, yadda.  Yes, this is true; but, perhaps part of the overindulgence we experience from Thanksgiving is perpetuated by the "more is more" maxim.  We can break the chain now!

Or, maybe I just feel bad about the uneaten desserts.  Pass the Xanax, please.

It's Fun Living in Delaware- Really!

In the small state of Delaware there's a certain "Willy Wonka" feel these last few days: a little dash of zaniness, mixed with a swarm of rabid reporters and throw in some truly bizarre behavior.  If having VP Joe in the spotlight wasn't a big enough thrill for us, now we have the dubious distinction of being the host of a Tea Party candidate for the November election.  So, in case you haven't been formally introduced (or have been under a rock), I bring you the 2010 Republican nominee, Christine O'Donnell: 

Have a great weekend!

Sea Change, Part II

With summer unofficially upon us, an entire catalog of my most cherished memories can be recollected from the foods I've eaten, most notably, from the sea.   Local striped bass begins to move up the East coast, and with it soft-shell crabs in search of warmer weather to shed their shells.  Hard-shell blue claw crabs begin to surface at roadside stands and seafood shops.  Fluke and flounder begin to make local appearances.  And, when the boisterous bluefish arrives, you know it's bbq season.

Food and memory is a common theme.  As I returned from the Jersey shore this weekend (in unprecedented traffic), the melancholic drive seemed a little softer as the smell of local barbecue pits and hibachis carried me home.  Detouring off the main roads, I found myself drunken with the sweet aroma of corn silk and honeysuckle. Passing through a small one-traffic light town with a winding creek, you take in the combination of freshly applied tar and salt water from the docks.  

The rite of crabbing is as pivotal an early life experience in the Mid-Atlantic as kickball or wiffleball tournaments on summer break.  Watching a gaggle of skinny, pale kids toss their lines into the murky water, I am instantly transformed to my days of tying slimy chicken necks to butcher's twine with fishing weights.  The one cooler you brought is for the crabs, and it sits empty.  Swatting green-head flies, you eat your sandwich early, for fear of what it may attract if left in the sun too long.    And, you're pretty certain if the sun gets any hotter, you'll be the first human to watch styrofoam turn into molten liquid.  Square and star-shaped traps can bring in the big haul, but it's the crafty crabber who shows their skills by detecting and successfully pulling a crustacean from the sea floor while scooping it up with the nearby net. 

Whether deep sea fishing, surf fishing, wading in shallow water for sunnies or pulling up a trap of blue claws, catching and eating our own seafood along the coast is part of our DNA.  Surely, our lives would be much different without it. 


So, then what if it's not just for recreation, but your way of life?  What if you rely on the uninterrupted cycle of nature in the nation's waterways to make a living?  In my last post, I referenced the dramatic effect of the Deepwater Horizon oil spill that is at this very moment gushing crude oil into the Gulf of Mexico.  In today's New York Times, it is reported that in Louisiana, "the oil slick is wreaking havoc on the fishing industry here, which brings about $2.4 billion a year to the state, the state’s seafood marketing board says. At least 27,000 jobs depend directly on the fisheries."  

The more insidious story under-reported is the one where BP has hired away almost all the idle fishing boats to assist with clean up and dispersement. Seafood processors say in many cases, "the biggest hindrance right now is not oil, but a lack of fishermen to haul in the catch in the areas still open to fishing."   

Imagine that:  fisherman who make a living from bringing in their catch are now hamstrung from going out and fishing by the very people who put them out of business because they are strapped for cash.  CNN just broke a story about a fisherman's wife who is going on the record about the dozens of fisherman who are coincidentally sick, presumably from a combination of the oil vapors and the dispersants in use. BP's theory?  "Food poisoning is clearly a big issue...It's something we've got to be very mindful of."  Starting to feel insulted?  Imagine you're a fisherman.  "People don't want to talk. They're scared," one wife says, of repercussions and consequences from BP. "Our financial situation lays in the palm of their hands."


This colossal twist of irony is compounded by the fact that Louisiana's "official biologists" have found that as of right now, there is no indication of contaminated seafood from the spill.  That, will undoubtedly change, but what they face, however, is what the Times described as a "public relations nightmare".  Who wants seafood from a region they see on the news every night with glopped up sea birds and glooped up jetties?  

Here's an example:  would you eat Louisiana redfish if I offered to make it for you tomorrow night for dinner?  Answer honestly.  Most of you would say "no", because of what you've seen and what you've heard.  The reality is that red snapper (and tuna) is caught at much deeper depths than where the spill is located and will spread.  

"'Only 6 of 10 tuna boats are going out now', he said, but 'the ones that are going are banging them up,” slang for a large catch.  Despite the plentiful fish, many boat captains cannot find enough deckhands. 'They are getting paid by BP to not go to work,' he noted."

President Obama was quoted in a Larry King interview today as saying he "is furious" over the spill, but that's "it's his job to fix things...not just yell at people."  Well, let me know when the yelling begins on his behalf.  It'd be a nice change from the Vulcan persona we see all the time.  BP is compounding this national tragedy by throwing money (a perverted form of hush money, at that) at the problem to minimize their own public relations nightmare and make themselves appear to be compassionate.  

So, maybe you knew this, maybe you didn't, but let's recap:  BP has hired away frightened gulf fisherman to perform what they believe is a good cause in cleaning up BP's mess (someone must, right?) and could actually be jeopardizing their health in doing so.  While in reality, the cache of seafood that awaits catch, to date, is uncontaminated; yet there aren't enough deck hands and fisherman to bring the seafood to shore.  Got it?  Imagine the happy scenario at the beginning and tell me, "Now who's furious?"

Sea Change

"The sea, the great unifier, is man's only hope. Now, as never before, the old phrase has a literal meaning: we are all in the same boat. "
Jacques Yves Cousteau

When I attended the Culinary Institute of America, seven days were devoted to the identification, preparation, butchering, proper handling and storing of all things from the precious waters of our lands.  My instructor was a cantankerous and passionate former Marine by the name of Chef "Corky" Clarke.  He is legend at CIA.  To mishandle seafood in his kitchen was akin to hurling a tomato at a statue of the Virgin Mary.  I emerged from my seven days in a fog, as if I had been smacked in the gob repeatedly with cold mackerel.  I didn't so much have an aversion to delicacies of the sea as I did his abrasive style of teaching.  I didn't understand what fueled his love for the sea, so I was elated then to move on to the next block.  Imagine the irony when I landed my first job out of school as chef of a seafood restaurant.    It took all of one week for humility and reality to sink in:  the sea was my muse.   

On a typical restaurant menu, you'll likely see beef, chicken, lamb, pork and sometimes, veal, as sure as you'll see salads, soup, appetizers and dessert.  When a restaurant includes seafood, you're likely to see salmon, shrimp, crab (in this region) and if you're lucky scallops.  The closer to coastal areas you are, mussels and clams are likely to be available, with lobster the mother of all menu real estate. 

Imagine having an enormous, far-reaching palette of flavors and choices that encompasses dozens of textures and possible preparations.  While working with these various species you daily discover why each must be treated with respect and care to allow the ideal enjoyment.  It's a daunting responsibility.  I don't watch the show, but I heard about an episode when Iron Chef Morimoto chided Bobby Flay for his cavalier handling of a whole salmon fillet.  I get it, now.    

I'm a chef, and I write a blog about food and wine.  As is common, I discuss the symptoms of an industry anomaly, but generally champion the greater cause.  What troubling times these are.  The recent catastrophe in the Gulf of Mexico is nothing short of a modern day Chernobyl.  Its effects are environmentally devastating and long-lasting.  Yet, it's only become the focus of the MSM within the last week or so.  We've focused on what we're fed in the headlines, easily distracted by a Hollywood divorce or viral YouTube video.  After over 40 days of hemorrhaging crude oil, the toppled Gulf oil rig has only just made it to the forefront of the news.  And, there are no signs of stanching the devastating flow, which many now acknowledge could continue into late summer.

Occasionally when ordering seafood, there can be a red tide or some other form of environmental threat that puts the availability of say, oysters, rockfish or other forms of seafood on temporary hold.  It passes, and we go back to ordering it again, mildly miffed at the setback.  The current oil spill will not only deplete the region of indigenous sea life, it ends the jobs of those who fish for it, process it, sell it, buy it, cook it and serve it.  And that's just seafood.

The time for thinking outside the box has passed.  This is not a potential threat, it's upon us with irreversible effects, and those effects are not just relegated to a loss of Louisiana shrimp and oil-soaked pelicans.  It doesn't take a degree in marine biology to follow the line of thinking that beyond the seafood industry, there are multiple other forms of collateral damage waiting to unfurl.  Beyond the wildlife, also affected are insects, marshes, beaches, boating, inlets, harbors, turtles, drinking water supplies and tourism; an entire ecology and economy is rocked to its core, not because of a spill, but because of an irresponsibility to devise solutions for inevitable disasters, not potential ones.

It's the duty of someone else other than me to attribute both the financial impact and political blame for this tragedy.  Unfortunately, that is how we rate disasters of this magnitude.  There will be far too few discussions about how this outcome is just one example of how far beyond oil-dependence we are as a planet.  From Chernobyl to 9/11, hurricane Katrina to the Gulf spill- whenever safety and preservation are pushed to the forefront of a national discussion, we continue to do nothing.  We are guilty of repeating the gravest error that man can commit against himself: indifference.

(end Part I)

Just Like Honey

“Is the world fundamentally a better place because of science and technology? We shop at home, we surf the web, at the same time, we feel emptier, lonelier and more cut off from each other than at any other time in human history.” from the novel (and film) "Contact" by Carl Sagan

Late last night, when I deleted my Facebook account, the captcha (random confirmation) words were "truffles out".  I kid you not.  If ever there were a sign from the cosmos, this was it.  I had to stare at it for a few minutes, completely amused and somewhat mystified.

I suppose I was asking for it.  I so resisted joining the "collective", only because I truly didn't miss what I didn't have.  My friends told me it would be a great way to promote my blog.  It seemed like the right thing to do; for an egotist.  As a reader of Ayn Rand, I didn't mind the "ego" part.  I had a lot to say, and I wanted to share my passion and love for all things food, wine, beer and creative thoughts alike.

But, something crept in.  Not what I expected.  It wasn't an addiction, as I know it.  It wasn't a fad.  It wasn't even vanity.  Ok- maybe a little.  But, ultimately, it was a trap.  I began to think that the only way people would listen to me, appreciate me, notice me- was through Facebook.  It makes me feel a little ashamed, now.  Posting on FB is supposed to be like stepping into a virtual town square and screaming, "HEY! Check out what I'm thinking!  'Listen' to this!  'Watch' that, 'join' us!  But, in reality, it was more like doing stand-up at an open mic, unable to see if anyone is in front of you listening, yawning or sleeping.  You long for a "like" or emoticon of approval. 

It began with the naive thinking that sooner or later we were all destined to become a part of the hive.  But, when I began to search for the people I knew had consciously avoided joining and then failed in finding them, I was silently jealous. 

Since creating an account last September, I've read some of the most interesting viewpoints on FB, and been exposed to some of the most idiotic and ignorant rants at the same time.  I met some wonderful new people and introduced some people to each other.  I've laughed my ass off at some of the most ridiculous videos and comments.  And, when there was nothing interesting going on in my real life, I surfed other peoples comments, profiles, photos- but, that's the whole point, right?  So, why then did it feel so unsavory?  When did it go from being fun to feeling dirty?  It was like being stuck in the mall, but without the fountains and Cinnabon.

It was a tremendous platform for advocacy.  And lunacy.  There were 1.7 million people who "liked" the prayer for Obama to Die, yet only 800,000 (at my last check) to petition FB to remove the page for its blatant racist and hateful bent.  My most memorable experience was watching a particular page climb in membership from 750,000 fans to just over 1 million in less than a half hour!  Each time you hit refresh, it would climb exponentially.  The page was about as harmless and vacuous as you can imagine:  "If I can get 1 million fans, my sister said she will name her baby 'Megatron'".  The site now has 1.7 million "fans".  The baby, a boy, is due in August.   

People would cut and paste "status" updates that advocated awareness for anything from special education and autism, to spousal abuse, human rights and cancer.  It was the platform for me to create my very own page condemning the anti-immigration law recently passed in Arizona.  It raised awareness for approximately 70 people who joined.  I posted information and updates daily from articles and websites both conservative and liberal, mainstream and private, ethnic, domestic and foreign.  I learned a lot on the subject and still feel strongly about my views.  But, it was a bit like preaching to the choir.  I knew the people who joined the page were intelligent, compassionate people who had a firm grasp on morality and altruism.  So, who was I hoping to convert?  The person who would rather feed their virtual guppie than discover the US Constitution being flouted daily?  Not gonna happen.

To connect with others in my field, it was about as ideal as it could get.  Chefs work a lot.  To be able to share ideas, photos, specials, inside jokes, and gripes while at work or after a shift, was the ideal.  And in many cases, I found myself visiting their establishments to say "hello" in person and eat their marvelous creations, drink their spirits.  And I'll continue to do so.

I hated high school.  It was never a secret.  So when I found so many people coming out of the creases of the internet to be FB friends, I did so with caution. Why would these people want to know about my life after all these years?  Did I really want to know about theirs?  Let's just say that the most ironic part of friending former classmates was that of the 50 or 60 I reconnected with, I found that the same 7 or 8 people I regularly hung out with and genuinely enjoyed being with in school were the same 7 or 8 I shared regular conversations, jokes, stories and photos with on Facebook.  I will miss the sarcastic and subversive posts of my friend Steve.  Picking up with our friendship in the last six months was like we had never stopped.  Yet, we've already decided to get together (with a "new" chef friend, no less!) and reminisce over some good food and cold beer.  I'll miss occasional updates from my former art teacher, though it goes without saying that we'll stay in touch through emails and possibly even visits.  My buddy and pal, Penny, and I have already met up and shot the breeze, and I've no reason to doubt we will again, after so many years, some shit is still funny!

But, despite the boundless nature of FB, the ability to connect with people from all around the world felt the same as connecting with someone I just saw an hour ago at work.  It became soulless.  The fact that most recent comments, messages or posts of interest were electronically whisked right into my pocket made it even less interesting.  Normally, I'd be bowled over to see photos of food from the former sous chef I worked for in France; but, something got lost in translation (and it wasn't the French).  At times I would sit and stare at the screen the same way Bill Murray and Scarlett Johansson would look out their hotel window in the movie of the same name.  With millions of people zipping about in a city that never seems to come down from a neon buzz, it was about as exciting for them as watching a lava lamp.  Sober.

Keeping up on how the business of Facebook was evolving and how it was slowly, incrementally implementing their mission statement to make the business of information gathering profitable became a daily exercise for me.  I tried to believe that I had the right to my privacy, when at the same time there were approximately 270 people I was sharing my morning breakfast with and digital moods.  My sister sent me an email about a site called Spokeo.  She explained that just by typing in your name, email address or phone number, all the information that you thought was secure on websites like Amazon, Facebook, blogs, message boards that require sign-in or memberships- it's all available for anyone to view online.  For only $2.95 a month, you could get a membership for a year that gave you full access to the personal information of just about anyone who has ever used a computer.  And in some cases, there is information that is shared from sites that aren't even online (census).

The business model for Spokeo isn't so much to get people to buy access to other people's information.  Oh no- that's so 1990's.  When people see that someone is pimping their personal and private information online, the immediate response is not "who got it and how did they get it?", it's "how do I get it OFF this site??".  And lo and behold, what does Spokeo offer just below the memberships that legalize identity theft??  A product by Reputation Defender called MyPrivacy.

"Delete private information from Spokeo, Peoplefinders, People Search and other online databases using My Privacy."  

Talk about good cop, bad cop?!?  You can also go to the bottom of that same page and delete yourself from Spokeo for FREE.  Just carefully follow the directions.  If you still can't do it, Google "how to...".

I suppose I was really never pushed over the edge by something like Spokeo or that someone could get or would want my credit score.  I mean, really?  But, having considered deleting my account and even threatening to do so a few times on FB (an empty threat if ever there was one), it seemed the right time to end the Facebook Experiment.  It only required my FB password and typing the randomized phrase "truffles out". *delete*

And then, there was a virtual silence.  A great, glorious silence so golden, it was if all the engines of every car on the information super-highway had stalled, coming to a screeching halt and then- were silenced forever.  I stepped away from the computer in the most confident and contented way, toward the front door and walked out into the Spring night.  I stopped and took the deepest breath- and then exhaled.  And, then I smiled.

I was Bill Murray coming out of the elevator of the hotel and walking into the crowded streets of Tokyo.  Hitting "delete" was like chasing Scarlett in that last moment before he might never see her again, and in that instant- as if on cue- I could hear in my head the echoing snare drums and the impudent reverberating guitar from the opening bars of the Jesus and Mary Chain's "Just Like Honey" as the credits rolled:

"Listen to the girl
As she takes on half the world
Moving up and so alive
In her honey dripping beehive
Beehive
It's good, so good, it's so good
So good"

Feeling Crabby

If there is one item I could live without ever ordering, preparing or seeing on a menu again, it's the crab cake.  It's become the most egregiously made and bastardized dish throughout the mid-Atlantic, with variations so vast, it's no wonder locals are so visceral in their opinions on the subject. 

For me, it begins with what people come to expect in a crab cake.  If there is anything other than boulder-sized chunks of crab in front of them, they complain of "too much filler".  Ughgh.  I'll get back to that, but I think it must stem from what people don't know about making these local delicacies.  The crab cake should be primarily crab with seasonings that complement the sweetness of the meat.  It should be moist and tender, properly seasoned, and it should hold together as it slides off a spatula and onto your plate or bun.  

Smarter cooks know that the fewer ingredients you use in a dish, the more you must respect the ones you do use. All those lovely lumps of precious crabmeat are held in trapezoidal compartments within the crab, and they're delicately extracted and separated into and sold as the valuable categories of jumbo lump, backfin, lump and claw meat.  Experienced crab eaters would never discriminate and abandon all the briny goodness that comes from eating all the various types of meats from their crustacean cronies.  But, try using something other than jumbo lump, and the average Joe screams heresy.  They are unaware that the only way to keep a crab cake bound together is to use complementary ingredients that help hold them into the signature "cake" form.  The intense and sweet flavor is often given from using a combination of the jumbo AND claw meat.  The delicate nature of the claw/leg meat (like that of the Jonah crab) also helps to bind when mixed with the base.  So, my ill-informed filler-fanatics, crab claw meat that binds, is still crab.  It's a wise use of crab meat and if you are going to produce them in volume, it helps keep them at a reasonable price.

Typically a little big of egg, bread or mousse combination is used to help bind these two flavorful types of crab meat.  Egg alone will not do the trick, but adding fresh white, doughy bread crumbs, like from Wonderbread, help hold the crab together.  Taking the protein of shrimp or scallops and combining in a processor with egg white and heavy cream will give you a delicate mousse that is both flavorful and does the trick nicely of binding the crab.  Beyond that, what else you put in is a matter of taste.  Avoid putting in anything that will detract from the main flavor or cause too much moisture or dryness, and you've got your own personal version of the dish that made Maryland famous.  So, why then do so many of them suck?

For all the crab cakes I loathe, it is mostly because they are mass produced for a homogenized appeal.  Each chef has their own idea of what a good crab cake is, and very often it's one that appeals to the masses.  Nothing wrong with selling a lot of crab cakes, I suppose.  Hey, Yugo sold a lot of cars, too.  But, I'm long since past ordering one in a restaurant, simply because I know I will be disappointed.  Give me a softshell crab, on the other hand, and it successfully captures all the things I love about a properly made crab cake:  crispy, toothsome texture, held together nicely in it's own natural sauce and it's as about as "pure" as it gets.  Slap on a little remoulade or equally gooey-tart sauce on a toasted, buttery bun, and my hankering for a sandwich of fresh crab is satisfactorily sated.

I don't hate the crab cake.  Really.  And I'm certainly not being snobby about it.  In fact, I love them so much, it's out of respect for their uniqueness that I sound off.  So, I guess you could say that I am being a bit purist about it all.  Hey, I'm allowed!  And, just to show you how much I care, I'm going to share my recipe as long as you promise to make them for only two people.  Four, at the most.  And not another crab cake more.

The main concept behind making this version of the crab cake for only a few people is that it forces you to concentrate on following the recipe and not cut corners.  Additionally, when you've mastered making these, you'll feel as though each time you make them again, it will be for people you really love and want to spoil.  You'll be giving them something they can't get anywhere for any price!  Now you know why some chefs don't give up recipes.  So, for you, my faithful Fork-N-Corkers, I am willing to make an exception, all in the name of respect for that little puck of tide-water goodness: the regal crab cake.

Robear's Secret Crab Cake Recipe

Makes four 5 oz. crab cakes

• 8 oz. fresh jumbo lump crab meat
• 8 oz. fresh crab claw meat
• 1 small onion, small dice
• 2 ribs celery, small dice
• 4 oz. whole butter
• 3 leaves fresh basil
• Juice of 1 lemon
• 1 teaspoon Old Bay seasoning
• 1 dash or two of Tabasco
• 1 dash of Worcestershire sauce
• 1 egg
• 1/4 cup mayonnaise 
• 1 tablespoon dijon mustard
• 2 pieces fresh white bread, broken into small pieces
• Salt and White pepper

In 2 oz. of butter gently cook the celery and onions until soft.  Do not brown.  Add the Old Bay and basil.  Remove the mixture including the butter and set aside to cool.  


Combine the wet ingredients in a bowl and mix until just combined.  This is your base.  After you pick through your crab to remove shells, you will use it to bind the crab together along with the bread crumbs.  Season with salt and dashes of white pepper.  TASTE!  If you feel as though you could eat the whole thing right there, it's ready.  Fold the crab, fresh bread crumbs and some of the base together until it can hold it's own shape.  Resist using the entire mixture.  You are meant to have extra, but this is where people screw up:  when they add all the base, they try to compensate by adding more bread to dry it up, and this is where the perception of "too much filler" comes from.  You can always add more if you really need it, but the key concept here is to barely bind those ingredients together without turning it into a seafood meatball.


Form four cakes onto a plate, cover and refrigerate for at least an hour.  This is also a key step: don't skip it!


When it's time to cook, turn your oven to 355F.  In a non-stick pan, put a couple tablespoon of oil and heat the pan to medium hot (only lightly smoking).  Use a spatula to gently lift the crab cakes and place them in the pan.  Add the remaining 2 oz of butter now.  First, the pan will sizzle, then it will subside.  It will build back up to a hiss first (that's the steam) and then finally return to a sizzle.  When you see that the edges are beginning to brown, use your spatula and with both hands slowly turn the cakes.  Place the whole pan in the oven for 12-15 minutes.  Serve immediately from the pan.  


Open some pinot blanc, Macon chardonnay or other white to complement the sweetness of the crab.  Bon appetit!