Does This Taste Funny? A Half-Baked Look at Food and Foodies Read Free Page A

blender .

Measuring Up
    As much as I’ve learned
about cooking in the last year, one thing is preventing me from getting to the
next level.
    No matter how well one
of my ‘dinner experiments’ turns out, I’ll probably never be able to make that
dish again. Oh, we’ll have something similar, but I never seem to be able to
recreate
my cooking successes.
    I’m sure you’re
thinking, “Ooh, he must be an artist, like some jazz-inspired cooking phenom
who improvises something brilliant, but, driven by his creative ambition, refuses to make the same thing
twice.” And I appreciate that you think that.
    But no, the reason we
won’t be revisiting my Poached Dill Chicken Breasts in Homemade Mushroom Gravy
on a bed of Garlic-Chili Potatoes with Grilled Asparagus anytime soon is
two-fold:
    1)
I don’t measure.
    2) I never write down
what I’ve done.
    Consequently,
I’m always conflicted when I share my cooking—I want it to taste good, but not
so
good that I
have to . . . make it again. Because I’m not sure I can!
    A book of my recipes would need to say
things like, “Cook until it looks like it did the last time, then let it sit
for a while.” My cookbook would be filled with units of measure like “a bunch,”
“just a little,” and “long enough so that it all sticks together but isn’t
burnt on top.”
    I
came across a recipe the other day that required me to convert everything from
metric units. OK, it wouldn’t have
required
it, if any
of my measuring doodads had been metric.
    Conceptually,
I’m on board with the metric system (or as I affectionately call it,
Système
international d’unités)
. I just haven’t had much call to use
it.
    When
I look back on my high school years, I ask myself the questions we all ask:
    “Should I have taken
a foreign language?”
    “Was my English
teacher really that hot?”
    “Why did I have to
study the metric system?”
    From about eighth grade
on (way back in the last century), it was made very clear that this country
would be changing over within just a
few years .
    Committees were formed,
deadlines were set, transitional congressional oversight whatevers were
convened. The message was clear.
    If I didn’t get with
the program, there would come a day when I wouldn’t be able to cook, or shop,
or even understand road signs.
    Well,
they missed that by a country kilometer. Like with so many forward-looking
ideas, most Americans responded to the idea of metric conversion with about the
same enthusiasm I would have for a new Tony Orlando album.
    As
a country, we collectively said, “
Nah, we’re good
. ” I
guess we were hoping to convince the majority of the civilized world to switch
back
to an antiquated, klunky system used by fading superpowers and former
empires.
     

    Countries which have not adopted the metric system
are shown in red
    I
have a theory as to why the U.S. never ‘went metric.’ I think the reason we
stayed with our quaint ‘imperial’ system of measurements is the same reason
half the country is abuzz every time there’s a royal wedding.
    My
theory is that, as a nation, we all feel a little guilty about kicking
England’s ass in the Revolution, we’re having second thoughts, and we want to
become a colony again! Take us back, Mother England! We want a figurehead
leader—we want pomp and, dammit, we want it with circumstance!
    We
want those cool red phone booths you guys have, and double-decker buses! We’re
tired of trying to run the world! It’s too freaking hard!
    I
think I would be cool with us suddenly becoming British again—sure, I’d have to
get used to cooking and eating things called ‘toad in the hole’ and ‘bubble and
squeak’ and I’d have to learn a bunch of different curse words, but at least
I’d have free health care.

Behind the Cooking
    I
feel that I’m ready to pull back the kitchen curtain and reveal a little of my
cooking magic. I’ll take you through one meal from ingredients to ingestion,
and along