Showing posts with label Theoretical Tasting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Theoretical Tasting. Show all posts

Wednesday, September 25, 2013

"Wasabi is not hot, if..."

I just tried a piece of chili cherry dark chocolate, and a Japanese co-worker who didn't like hot flavors, and thus the chocolate because it had hot chilies in it said:

"Wasabi is not hot."

 We were surprised, as he certainly had wasabi before.  We asked him to clarify.


"if chili is defined as hot, wasabi is a different sensation."

I asked if it's because of the way wasabi attacks the senses, and he affirmed the distinction.  I've then concluded this:

Wasabi is not hot, it's malicious.

Saturday, October 27, 2012

Tea and yum

Running short on honey at home, my dad ventured into combining real maple syrup with green tea.  I did the same and it was wondiferous!  I realized maple syrup is a good seasonal choice (typically for early new-year/spring months), but if you ration it out, it can come to play just in time for oncoming colder weather as well.

I also noticed that baileys and tea might work well:  if people are pleased to try milk or cream with their tea, why not enjoy it with a bit of Irish cream?  Especially in the winter months, I think it makes sense--for those living in the temperate regions, the extra calories and fermented sweetness of an alcohol in a hot beverage are probably a welcome way to prepare for the colder months.

This may be a sacrilegious act, but I'll try it someday just to see what happens...

Friday, June 29, 2012

Overdoing the good stuff

I didn't think it was possible to overdo the good stuff until it happened today.


After finishing a calculus exam and a foreign language test, I came home to an empty apartment. Awaiting me: an array of wonderful ingredients and opportunities.
  • an assortment of six bottles of fine craft beers ready for an experiment
  • freshly picked feral baby garlic from the fringe of the UM-Dearborn organic gardens
  • avocados ($1 per fruit)
  • rosemary ($0.99 for a bundle)
  • a "maple salmon kabob" ($5)
  • a bag of "confetti potatoes" (hooray!) ($3)
  • a box of mixed sprouts ($2)
  • a container of salsa ($3)
  • left over bread rolls in the fridge from about a month (perhaps more) ago
  • Neat, garlic from garlic!  Youth on Age!
    In the background:
    The Bean Facts man, Alfred Batshon
    is our kitchen deity.
  • and hot mustard (horseradish mustard) given to me from work by colleagues who ate out at a PF Chang's location


How exciting! I don't recall having so many quality, fancy, and fine ingredients in one place.

Plus, good drink pairings (including non-alcoholic drinks) with food taps into a broader interest of mine:
emergent properties in complex systems. What am I talking about?

Here's the tangent: With anything, we can appreciate something on its own, in complementary company with, or in contrast (counterpoint) with something else. In these instances, it's equivalent to adding one good thing to another.

Sometimes--a very rare and subtle experience for me--two foods together bring out a third sensation. For those who like business buzzwords, this is synergy. For physicists, this is the equivalent of a "constructive wave", when two waves combine to make a bigger wave. To life scientists and complex systems thinkers, this is the emergent property--you discover an outcome that's equivalent to multiplying two things together to get a tremendous result!

It happens a lot in nature and society: simple interactions may aggregate into something very different from what we expected (chemistry comes to mind, which brings us back to the reason for why we taste different things).

Unfortunately (back to the food), I didn't quite get to it. Simmering rosemary in the beer with a drizzle of olive oil worked out remarkably well in the pan as far as I could tell by their aroma.

However, between the salmon, its maple (syrup marinade?) flavoring, and avocado, these very rich and heavy flavors effectively dominated over any potentially subtle emergent qualities (this is the wave cancellation effect for physicists) that arose from the presence of rosemary and the Spicie Nicie ale (I'll say the ale wasn't as exciting as its label made it seem when I tasted it as-is, might have been the batch though). I could have paced my eating differently so that I could enjoy the more delicate flavors first instead too.

In any case, it was a very satisfying meal and I'm always struck by the paradox and phenomenon of luxury when indulging.

I really admire salmon--it's a noble fish (lobsters, though not fish, are also admirable, that's a different story to explain though). In the wild, many will hatch, grow up in fresh water, migrate into the ocean, and then return to fresh water to the place of their birth (found by scent!) to spawn before dying. Fish that do this are called anadromous--their bodies change so that they can adjust between fresh water and salt water. To eat something that works that much for the success of its species demands a lot of respect, and I always wonder if I've given my fair share of effort to merit a meal like that--even if I were the one catching it.

(aside: if ever the opportunity arises and I really needed a fish to survive, the most satisfying way to catch a salmon would have to be with one's own canines, unfortunately my canines might be too smooth for this to be a reality, and salmon are way too powerful to catch in that manner...maybe I'll turn into a bear someday)
Then of course, there's the very real question of privilege and poverty--there's a difference between buying salmon for $5 to enjoy over a few meals versus buying as much sustenance to hold one over for $5--i.e. a jug of milk and loaf of bread can make a difference for a hungry family.

I started eating before I remembered
to take additional photos.  I later
found the mustard and drizzled it on the sprouts.

Tiny note: the garlic was still very young, it fares better in a salad.

I was so hungry I started eating and
forgot about the potatoes until later too.
The potatoes turned out well, they went nicely with the sprouts and mustard. The salsa on the avocado was refreshing too. As good and luxurious as it was overall (even one of these items in a meal is a rare privilege for many people), there was way too much flavor going on at once for my taste buds and brain to figure out. I'd either have to sequence my meal better, or focus on just a few things. I'll call it "strategic eating" when faced with a smorgasbord of fine foods.

Ethical notes, some less appetizing than others:


When purchasing the fish, I was probably the only person who asked the fish vendor where it all came from, but he promptly searched his boxes and bags to find out for me. This salmon came from "Canada", which seems much closer to me than South America or the Pacific Ocean, but for all I know, it could have come from the West Coast. The Montery Bay Aquarium seafood watch has a guide for fish purchasers (see here for salmon) and frequently provides detailed reports on the fishing industry and its environmental impacts.

In retrospect, I don't feel so good about having salmon from ambiguous geographies, and likely won't be one to purchase it in the future.

Avocado comes from afar too.  On its own though, I suspect having several avocados would be better than having a salmon.  It's a plants versus flesh assessment: by default, plants need less resources to exist than do carnivorous things, plus imagine boating out to catch a fish, shipping/flying/trucking it to Michigan... this one was wild-caught, but farmed is almost certainly a more intensive a process when it comes to having people care for the fish and the places they're grown in--fish farmers frequently pack holding pens of fish with more fish than even the fish themselves are used to being around.  It can get messy when you consider what the requisites for making an artificial environment for fish can be--antibiotics, waste, uneaten food, etc.   Ahh, maybe this post's title wasn't overdone with the good stuff after all...

On the bright side, the sprouts came from a place in Michigan that starts with the letter "I", the garlic was definitely local and organic.  

Friday, June 15, 2012

Rum and Sweet Sweet Cereal

Avocado and fresh salsa are an obvious complement worth having with a meal.



Avocado and honey are wonderful together with breakfast, I'd probably enjoy that any day.





Reese's Puffs and a splash of rum are surprisingly enjoyable too, but I'd advise doing so in moderation or for pastry purposes only.



No, I don't drink excessively, I had less than a teaspoonful of rum.  My roommate makes a lot of tinctures and uses a lot of vodka (sometimes rum too) precisely because of their high alcohol content.  Since he keeps all of it atop the fridge, I couldn't resist combining the two.

Reese's puffs fall under what I consider is a category of "dessert cereals"--you can eat part of your complete breakfast, starting with a bland granola/shredded wheat cereal, move on to some heavier fair like eggs and toast, and then finish off with something like Reese's Puffs or Count Chocula.  Voila!  A three course breakfast.  But don't be fooled by the marketing, you can have the sweet cereal at the end of any meal.

For other similar combinations: a touch of Disaronno or Bailey's and ice cream are wonderful too.  I think this affinity for a combination of sweet with grains and alcohol comes from birthday cakes by my mum which were baked with grand mariner when I was much younger.

Sunday, January 15, 2012

Bachelor baking challenge #2

My last venture with baking resulted in what I've dubbed "Shortbread Boulders"--they were shortbread cookies made for my chemistry lab, I made sure they were gluten-free because one of my classmates had/has Celiac disease (basically, gluten agitates the body enough that the immune system starts attacking  the digestive system).

In mid-December, my neighbor, Bethany, gave us (me, she may have meant to share it with my dad too) a wonderful pot pie.  She's very health conscious, and the pie was made from free-range, organic AND gluten free ingredients.

It was excellent, I ate all of it over the course of two meals and many friends on campus were either amazed that I brought an entire casserole for myself as a lunch, or envious that its contents smelled and looked so very enticing.


About a month later, I've finally resolved to return the casserole with something that meets most of the previous conditions Bethany had set:  I'd make something with granola (relatively gluten free), Mulberry Preserves made by the a few friends of mine in Detroit (they collected and cooked it with the Detroit Asian Youth project, I played music afterward and brought some food for everyone to enjoy).

Mulberry Preserve made by the good people of
the Detroit Asian Youth (AKA DAY project),
the label was designed by Michelle Martinez.
The photo is mine, and the lion looks suspiciously similar to me...

Look beyond the jump for the musings about baking...

Friday, January 6, 2012

A twist on falafel

Happy New Year!

It's January in Michigan and I wore shorts outside today.  While the weather is pleasant, it's somewhat disappointing as we haven't had substantial snow cover throughout the winter for a long time.  That said, I had a great and action-packed Friday:

I learned how to say "Happy New Year" in Arabic and was complemented with "Perfect" on first try, and ordered a falafel (fried chick peas and other good things rolled into a ball) sandwich from Amani's restaurant in East Dearborn (I also found out a few friends of mine are related or work for the restaurant too).

After a few bites, I realized adding cinnamon to the falafel prior to frying might be an interesting addition.  When I came home I sprinkled some cinnamon and the flavors work, but I'll have to ask if they'd be willing to add cinnamon during its preparation next time.

Later, I was encouraged to ask questions and hold the University accountable for its breakage card system and lab fees by the person who introduced it to the campus (he also encouraged me to "Give 'em the dickens!" before I left).

Tuesday, November 15, 2011

Microbiology and diagonal cuts

I've heard that cutting chile peppers at a 45 degree angle makes for more flavorful cooking because it releases more of the oils from the pepper.


For those of you who've had the privilege of using a microscope to look at plant cells--for example, cells in an onion skin--once in a while looks rather rectangular if not trapezoidal.
Onion cells under a microscope!  Image credit to Lu Yi's Blog for biology on sachina.org


In a round-the-corner way, this brings us to a recurring topic on this blog: sandwiches. With exception to purposes of utilitarian eating and/or convenient preparation, I'm an advocate for diagonal sandwich slices.


For one, the shape of a triangle makes it automatically enticing--with all those angles, sharp corners on triangles are sometimes associated with dangerous things (heck, even all that italicizing looks slightly dangerous)--and yet most of the sandwiches we eat are devoid of danger in the form of laceration (HOWEVER, you may need be lively and watch out for food poisoning, diabetes, and/or obesity).


Two, and this is relevant to our "microbiology" section of this post, a diagonal cut exposes more surface area of a sandwich's insides.  Let us examine the following exchange about sandwiches as an analog to our exploration of plant cells.


"The amount of crust on a sandwich, he says, does not change, no matter how you cut it. But the amount of surface area without crust can change, depending on how many times you cut it and in which direction.


If your bread is square, and if each side is 4 inches long, you have 16 inches of crust. Cut that bread down the middle, and you get 8 inches of crust-free surface. Cut that same bread diagonally, [Paul] Calter [emeritus professor of mathematics at Vermont Technical College], calculates, and you end up with almost 11 inches of crustless surface. That's a substantial increase."(You an behold more glorious things about the triangular cut in sandwiches here: http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=120914097 )


Back to ruminations within this blog...
When cutting a pepper or any other plant cell, I suspect this has at least two advantages:


1. You're opening up more surface area per cell
2. You're more likely to cut open a cell from the get-go
3. (BONUS!!!) You've possibly made lots of little little little triangles if you assume most plant cells are somewhat rectangular due to their cell walls


Unfortunately, you've certainly killed a lot of cells, but that stuff happens when you're a heterotroph.  The best I can advise for this is to be respectful to your food and where/who/what it came from.




I hope I'll find my camera/a camera soon.  I finally started making foods worth photographing again.

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

Autumn flavors return

There's something about the autumn that makes my senses and imagination more acute and attuned to certain flavors.


Note that I've yet to make these combinations happen, but I'm convinced that they should work well (in theory at least)...


Here's a few that came to mind:
1) Butternut Squash soup with Curry.
Inspired by the aromas from an Ann Arbor Indian restaurant as I was walking on Maynard and Williams to the UM Undergraduate Library this past Saturday evening (the 29th).


2) Pumpkin+Apple bake (cinnamon is the common denominator for a pie or torte of sorts).


3) Pumpkin pie oatmeal with maple syrup and/or brown sugar. (an idea from last year, I still have yet to make this combination...)


The latter is decidedly very suburban--it was inspired by smelling an instant oatmeal packet being microwaved while I was working at the Engineering Society of Detroit.


Not quite related as I don't see this fitting in with the rest of the flavors or autumn, but this happened today and therefore shall be included in the list:


Pho with something on the side like dried pineapple slices with hummus. 


Dad made the vietnamese soup and I added a little too much Hoisin sauce (mostly sweet and a bit salty). This left me wanting something a bit more grounded, solid, and mellow in flavor.  Dried pineapple and hummus did the trick.

Sunday, September 26, 2010

Armchair Science with Ian: Smokey roasted flavors and ecology

Watson or Crick (of DNA fame, I believe it was Watson but won't look it up right now) was known to be an armchair scientist--he postulated ideas, made a few theories, wrote them down, and eventually others began to prove them empirically (even many decades later) without him having done any of the legwork for which the scientific community was known to hold in high esteem (and still does).

Culinary science questions come to mind frequently enough that I begin to answer them myself, and the answers are so sensible and sound to me that I'm almost convinced that I could pose them seriously to other people. Keep in mind that I'd be happy to write well researched essays about these questions. However, there are three issues:
1) I rarely have time to sit in an armchair, especially since I often commute between cities.
2) As a student, it's very likely that I'm already writing essays about something else for the certification of my educational degree. It's also very likely that those essays concern science, and require research to back up what I say to my professors and/or peers.
3) I've forgotten what the third issue was in the first place leaving me feeling even more exposed to academic criticism!

So I'll pose musings of varying length to whomever wishes to read here--without doing the detailed research...for now. But I have to admit that I do find some satisfaction in learning whether or not these ideas are true or at least partially correct, so someone please let me know.

Here's my most recent idea, with a story as backdrop to how it came forth:
Smokey Roasted Flavors and Prairie Ecology

wild carrot (Daucus carota) comes from Europe, likely escaped from someone's garden or field after being introduced into the U.S., and is commonly found in open spaces like prairies and fields. Keep an eye out for it around May if you're anywhere in Northeast United States.

At this time of year, most of these plants have finished with their flowers and gone to seed. The seeds are small, it quickly spreads, and appears intimidating to weed out when it gets really tall during the summer (especially because it attracts so many potentially upsettable Hymenopterae--insects like wasps, bees, and ants). At this time, most of the wild carrot has dried up and today I pulled lots of it out of my parents' vegetable garden (it had successfully dominated 1/3 of this garden), piled it up, and decided it would be reasonable to burn with the intention of scattering the ashes over the garden to help recharge the soil of its nutrients. Even though it dry and burned in a controlled space, I was still surprised that the wild carrot caught fire so quickly.

***

I later went inside to have a chicken soup, and added mesquite smoke. Somehow, we have neurons devoted to the pungent aroma and, important to this discussion, flavor of smoke. Some things taste better with the right amount of smoke. Why though? This brings us to the age old question of how and why we humans came to cook our food.

The earliest humans or their ancestors likely lived in African savanna habitat--prairies (mostly grass with a few trees scattered here and there).

I recall that many early peoples and even current day people will intentionally burn grasslands every few years (though perhaps for differing reasons now).

I think the first hominids to eat cooked food didn't cook their own food--it (wildebeest, whatever) was simply in a burning grassy area during a fire.

When did they start hunting? Is it more likely that they learned to use fires as traps? Or is it simpler to catch the meal and then cook?

Possibly later, humans learned to use fire for agricultural purposes, but for those who benefited from recognizing burned things by smell and the taste, perhaps there was something substantial to it. We can reason that cooking can sterilize foods, and by not getting sick from what you eat, you have the opportunity to live longer and proliferate future generations. Over millions of years (sorry, the archaeological clock in my mind is probably way off--I forget the evolutionary timeframe of human beings at the moment), inborn into most folks who could detect these scents and flavors had developed some liking to them. Perhaps because they were 1) good at detecting fires and could get away, survive, etc. 2) more likely to eat things that were almost guaranteed to be sterile and therefore capable of surviving and reproducing.


* * *
...Lessons learned from not completing this post: Write what's logical first, then give the story. Otherwise, you could lose both! Now that I'm revisiting this post, I think I've covered what I wanted to say, but I frankly don't remember if I captured the story telling and arguments I wanted to put forth as well as I had once planned.