MSG = Monosodium, Good Mate!

I was at a pizza & wine cookoff recently — me with a few bottles of my family wine versus my pal Craig, with his family wines, making pizzas in the wood-burning oven of my friend and Craig’s brother-in-law, Chris. Basically, dads showing off for their and their friends’ wives.

Somehow we got on the subject of foods-that-used-to-be-taboo-that-have-been-redeemed — perhaps we were talking about eggs from each of our backyard chickens. Maybe it was butter, I can’t remember. I said aloud, “They’ve even determined that MSG is harmless.” Chris looked surprised. “Really??” However, his mother-in-law — his wife Mary’s mom — who had also joined us, looked aghast.

“Oh no!” she said, “MSG is terrible. It gives me headaches and irregular heartbeat and flushed skin!!”

I didn’t follow up.

A few weeks ago, I was cooking a test dinner of a sample menu for a briefly-mentioned-in-my-last-post-restaurant-possibility with some shall-not-yet-be-mentioned celebrity dinner guests who would be involved. My potential-restaurant-partner quizzed the guests about what their favorite kind of chicken was, and one of them replied, “KFC.”

Now I will pause here briefly to say that anyone who has ever told you they don’t like KFC is lying to you. It is @#$%ING delicious. Why? Well, there are those 11 secret herbs and spices. There is also the pressure frying which keeps the meat tender and thoroughly cooked without overcooking the crust. But there is also a fair helping of MSG.

My MSG

The bad rap MSG got from the beginning was largely bogus. It’s simply a protein isolate attached to a sodium molecule. The bad rap also dates to the 1960s, when people reported experiencing strange symptoms after eating Chinese American food. In a famous article exploring “Chinese Restaurant Syndrome,” the author proposed a number of possible suspects — huge quantities of sodium, equally heroic amounts of oil… or, a heretofore unknown substance called monosodium glutamate. It was the latter that captured the public imagination — especially after some well-meaning scientists injected pregnant mice with 30,000x the amount of MSG any human could possibly consume and discovered problems in the resulting offspring.

If you are afraid of MSG, consider that you likely consume half a gram of the stuff daily in the foods you eat. That’s not counting naturally occurring MSG, which is chemically the same as the additive, and found in foods from mushrooms to cheese to fish.

I wanted my guests to really like the chicken. So I purchased a bag of MSG.

I was a little ashamed as I brought my contraband to the check-out line. But then I remembered I was at the Japanese market, and the Japanese still dig MSG. They were the ones who brought it to the world! Anyway, in terms of my meal, it would not be the main component of the dishes I was making; rather, it would merely enhance the flavors of garlic, salt, sugar, pepper, spices and so forth. I used a very small pinch in my spice mixture, a bit in my brines, etc. How was it? Delicious — and a bit better than it would’ve been without. My celebrity guests were on board 100%.

And I am now onboard too. With MSG.

Don’t shame me, well-intentioned food extremist. I realize yours is a small, flavorless world in which your self-righteous indignity to my defense of the world’s most hated food additive will provide you a temporary sense of purpose. I give you that. With a side of kale.

Just give me a KFC thigh and wing, please. And some kung pao chicken on the side.

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Pretentious Plating and Other Random Thoughts

I had meant to do my periodic sort-of annual “Trends for the New Year” post for 2019, but all of a sudden it’s late March.

What happened to February? How is it one day we are hugging and ringing in the New Year, and then suddenly the year is a quarter over?

I haven’t been blogging as much as I used to. I’ve been quite busy with potential movie projects, potential restaurant projects… and paintings sets for my daughter’s elementary school musical.

I’ve also been spending more time on my @skinnygirlsandmayo Instagram account, where I have a bazillion followers and advertisers pay me untold figures to endorse their products as a social media influencer. (Actually, I don’t really have that many followers, and sometimes I worry that advertisers will actually charge me for doing whatever the opposite is of appealing to their all-important 18-34 demographic). It’s fun to just post photos and not have to write anything about them. But then, since I am technically a “writer,” after awhile I miss writing and so return to my blog.

I follow a hashtag on Instagram called “Art of Plating,” that features chefs, foodies and restaurateurs posting shots of beautifully photographed plates of food. Examples:

This was something I could enjoy looking at! So I followed it for a couple months, and then realized that all the photos kind of looked the same. There were lots of flowers and microgreens, nasturtium leaves, creatively smeared or dotted sauces, ingredients cubed and brunoised, food all pushed to one side of the plate… Everybody is doing beautiful food now!

Sometimes I do beautiful food. I do admit that. (And then usually have to go out on the back property afterward to chop some wood.) But all this Instagram “Art of Plating” was beginning to feel a little precious and pretentious. So I decided to have a little fun with #artofplating.

My first submission was “toaster hash brown with ketchup”:

The response was positive.

Whether people were picking up on the joke, or perhaps overly serious foodies were saying to one another, “Look at what he manages to do with a simple hash brown!” I do not know.

This was followed a couple weeks later by my next beautiful food shot, “fish nuggets with tartar sauce and parsley”:

I had something here.

Perhaps I could do something with Pop Tarts. Then, of course, there was Hamburger Helper.

In the interest of full transparency, I may have been subconsciously inspired by a photo my pal Jon sent me many years ago of his dinner — mac n’ cheese with chicken nuggets randomly dropped onto the shiny plasticine surface.

I often wonder where the food world can possibly go next, especially now when everyone is doing beautiful food. What is the next trend — ugly food? And while they may be beautiful, it is fair to ask — how many people really enjoy eating flowers??

 

There Are Hipsters in the San Gabriel Valley

I don’t want anyone to be alarmed, but there are hipsters in the San Gabriel Valley.

They’re hard to escape these days — bearded, tattooed young guys wearing Vans and cool t-shirts emblazoned with logos for Nashville honkytonks, their hair either coiled up in a man bun or shaved off entirely, accompanied by beautiful tattooed braless young women of often indeterminate Hispaneuroasian ethnicity.

Jaydyn, Willa and their dim sum

San Gabriel Valley is as unhip as it gets. Why, then, are the hipsters there? I partially blame it on Jonathan Gold, the late Pulitzer Prize-winning Angeleno food critic. Jonathan Gold was unhip, too — a portly, balding guy with suspenders and a squeaky voice. But he wrote with the music and flourish of a poet as he gleefully took the road less travelled to L.A.’s grittier corners in pursuit of a great meal. He was, as it turns out, was a muse for L.A.’s hip and intelligentsia, who could boast amongst one another of the most recent Jonathan Gold treasure they’d frequented. More

A Waffle Does Not Make Good Sandwich Bread (and Other Thoughts)

I received a Groupon in my in-box this morning (why I still receive Groupons in my in-box is another conversation) for a place called “Red Maple Café”. A rather generic attempt at an Americana tavern/eatery type name (the trend these days). Obviously not drawing the people they expected, if they are putting out a Groupon.

The photo included with the Groupon was of an ill-conceived sandwich, a meat of some kind — probably smoked heritage pork belly — suspended between two waffles. Making matters worse was a sprig of cilantro sitting ominously close to the meat. More

Popcorn for Breakfast and Other Minor Revelations

Leftover popcorn, I’ve discovered, makes a good breakfast. My wife often makes popcorn for the kids in the evening, and there it is in the morning, half a pot — the butter soaked in and coagulated. Like many things, it is better the next day.

I especially like the crunchy, half-popped ones that congregate at the bottom of the pan. My wife worries: “You’re going to break a tooth on one of those one day.” But I like to live dangerously, I guess.

I made another delightful breakfast discovery this morning. It’s soft-shell crab season — one of my most favorite of all foods. Last night, I made seven soft-shell crab sandwiches for our dinner party. I had miscounted, and there were only six of us. So my second course of breakfast was a reheated soft-shell crab sandwich. What a start to the day!

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