Process Writing

     I was worried going into some of the writing pieces for this class. I find writing about myself to be pretty easy so I knew I could do the memoir, but the other pieces scared me. I remember reading the syllabus on the first day and wondering how the hell I was going to write a restaurant review and cook for people and write about it. I’m not exactly a food aficionado. Growing up, my family never really went out to eat and the foods we ate at home were always very simple, so I wasn’t really confident in my knowledge or ability to write about food. Every time I watch Food Network with my roommates, I need to ask what some of the items are and what they taste like.

     Once I got past my fear, the writing was actually very fun. In my restaurant review, I tried to keep my food descriptions simple. I did my best to judge their food and tried to bring in the food smarts I had. The cooking project was even more enjoyable and while I wrote, I was forced to really think about my stance on food. I think that writing about food has helped to seriously improve my writing. Food writing is something I have never done before and I think that as you write about more things, you gain more techniques that you apply to universally to your writing.

     The lack of food smarts confidence made me stick to simple ideas for my writing. Comerica Park was an easy topic to pick as its commonly a place I refer to as one of my favorites in the world. Writing about it from a food standpoint made me think about it in a way I never have before and I think that this class made me do that with a lot of things. I’m walking away from this class with a vastly different perspective on food than I had first week. I notice food advertisements, tastes and cultural meanings so much more. I’m also much more critical of the food industry (thanks to Pollan for that one). I’m thankful to have these new perspectives, though. As I make the transition to being independent from my parents, I think it’s important to gather my own views on food. Someday I’ll be forced to enter a supermarket and purchase food for myself. I think that after this class I’m better prepared for that day. There is still a lot about food I need to learn and this class has peaked my interest on it. 

     Workshops in this class were especially helpful to me, even more so than in other classes. The comments were great, but to me the best part was being able to read how each person approached topics differently. I was able to learn about each person, but I was also able to learn more about myself after reading everyone’s points of view. Each person’s writing forced me to think about a different facet of food and that made me decide what was most important to me. That extends beyond just the major pieces of writing. Everyone seemed to have very different reactions to our readings as well. For example, many people wrote about and discussed pieces of Pollan’s book that I did not give second thought to. That helped tremendously in my own writing as well. I was able to really decide what I wanted to focus on in my pieces after hearing and discussing everyone’s views. I like to think that I always listened to and tried to gain from other people’s opinion, but I think in this class I’ve learned to value them even more. I hate to admit it, but there were times in the past where I ignored what people said in workshops because I trusted myself more than I trusted them. In our workshops, I may not have taken everyone’s advice, but I definitely thought critically about every point in deciding whether or not I wanted to include it in my piece.

Budget Cooking Revision

     $5.00 for a dozen organic eggs, or $1.50 for eight non-organic eggs? This was my first stop pushing my empty cart through the tightly packed aisles of Meijer. I waited in line behind two people for access to the eggs and watched them both select organic (an observation that slightly surprised me). Prior to entering Meijer, I had not set any guidelines for my meal. I figured with my lack of cooking skill, I’d select something I could cook that would be edible and leave it at that. Standing in front of the refrigerator though, I decided to impose a few restrictions on myself. Some of my strongest reactions to The Omnivore’s Dilemma came from an economic viewpoint. So I decided to approach my meal with economics and dollar signs in mind.

     I went with the non-organic eggs. Not because I do not support the organic food movement, but because of my guidelines. I wanted to make an effort to approach the meal from the same position as many Americans. I was cooking one meal, so I could have afforded the one-time charge for the organic eggs. But if I had to purchase eggs weekly, I’m not so sure I could afford the organic eggs and I’m confident that many American families cannot justify paying more than triple the price for four more eggs. I cannot deny that as I reached for the factory-farm eggs that images of the chicken houses in Food Inc. popped into my brain, but I tried to block them out. I was focused on attempting to make a healthy meal (hopefully one that tasted good too), but a healthy meal for a reasonable price, which is a dilemma I think many shoppers face every time they enter a supermarket.

     Though I could not justify the organic eggs, whole-wheat bread was of a close enough price to its competitors that it made sense to purchase it (plus it contained no high fructose corn syrup!). I went with simple Sara Lee brand ham and cheese. The label on the ham claimed no fillers and 30% less sodium than USDA data for ham. I’d be lying if I said I fell for all this bullshit (Michael Pollan made sure of that), but compared to other options in the same price range, I made an executive decision that this was the least of all evils.

     Another issue came up in the fruits and vegetables section. For my meal, I wanted to make a fruit salad. I figured even I could cut up a few different kind of fruits and spin them together into an all right mixture. Once again, though, price was an issue. A fruit salad requires multiple types of fruit. After perusing the different options, I came to a conclusion that even buying just blueberries, pineapple and strawberries (three of my favorites) did not make sense for the price. I was then forced to make a decision: select just one or go with a Meijer brand fruit salad of pineapple, cantaloupe, honeydew, blueberries, watermelon and strawberries. This was more of what I pictured when I thought of fruit salad so I decided to go for it. In addition, a package of just one fruit would have cost me pretty much the same as the fruit salad did. As I contemplated my decision, I began to wonder how many other people around me faced similar issues, only theirs were not for one meal assigned for school, but instead their decisions would effect the mouths of their families.

     I ended up spending right around $25 total, which I was satisfied with. $25 seems kind of pricey for a meal for two people, but I knew some of the food would last beyond the meal, how far past though I didn’t know. Throughout my life, I have not been blind to the costs of food for a family, but there are some things that you never fully understand until you’re faced with the full burden of the decision. That being said, there are still many things I need to learn, but I think this project further opened my eyes to the issues people face every day in kitchens and supermarkets around the world.

     I cooked for myself and my girlfriend, Karianne. I’ve grown accustomed to eating with her a lot as neither of our families are very big on the classic sit-down-how-was-school-today dinners. She has been present at a number of my memorable meals, so I knew if I could only have one guest for my meal, I wanted it to be her. In addition to that, she has a kitchen and I knew she’d like pretty much anything I made her. My planned meal consisted of fried egg, ham and cheese sandwiches, hash browns and fruit salad. Simple, I know. But a fear of completely ruining a meal due to my previously mentioned lack of culinary skill definitely played a factor. I’m also a big fan of breakfast foods and since I rarely roll out of bed in time to enjoy them when normal people do, I figured why not do breakfast my way. So I cooked around 2:00 in the afternoon. If that isn’t perfect, then honestly I don’t know what is.

     My girlfriend was, of course, very satisfied with the final product. She raved to me that the hash browns were great, telling me, “you can make me hash browns anytime you want,” and about how wonderful the sandwich was. I love her, but she is prone to feeding my ego and even if the food were horrible, she would have probably eaten it with a smile on her face and flooded me with comments just the same. Plus, her cooking ability makes me look like Bobby Flay so it’s no surprise she’d let me cook anytime I’m willing.

     I tend to be a tougher critic on myself, but I was pleasantly surprised with the food after completing my meal (maybe I really am just good at everything). The hash browns were not the best and I think cooking them with more salt and pepper would have helped with the overall flavor, but that issue could be somewhat solved on the plate. I honestly don’t know enough about cooking to point out other flaws, I don’t have the palate or the knowledge to taste something and know how the preparation should have been altered. I would be willing to bet that my meal contained a number of faults though. The sandwiches were better than the hash browns. I’d even feel confident making them for someone besides Karianne. However, an attempt at adding artichoke hearts was not a great choice on my part. I don’t know if it’s because taking the cheap way out and buying a jar of artichoke hearts is just not a good idea or if the way I prepared them was just a poor method (I’d bet a mixture of both). Outside of that, I had no true complaints. The flavors came out in everything and nothing overpowered its counterparts. Plus, I didn’t burn anything so that was a positive. 

     Doing some simple calculations, I figured out I could make eight fried egg sandwiches and two sandwiches without eggs. The fruit could have been used for two of my meals and the two potatoes I bought were just enough for the one meal. For $25, I think that’s not bad. Pretty much all of the money I personally spend on food is at restaurants or Circle K, so maybe I’m still just a dumb kid trying to play grown up.

    This meal opened up my eyes to a lot of things. Money was my focus, but the meal put taste on my mind too. Maybe one day I’ll be able to craft a meal I can serve to people without worry. And if I never reach that goal, I’ll just have to keep Karianne around so she can keep telling what a great cook I am.

Day at Comerica (Final Revision)

     “Ice cold pop! ice cold water!”

     “Do you want something to drink?” I turned to my girlfriend, Karianne.

     Two outs later we turned our backs on the field and climbed the stairs to the main concourse of Comerica Park. I always do my best to wait until after the Tigers have hit to make my way up toward the food even though I know I will still miss something. The concourse has a way of trapping you in its never-ending circle of intriguing smells and menus. 

     For Karianne, it’s always an easy choice. We headed straight for Little Caesars to put more money in Mike Ilitch’s pocket (Although, after the Prince Fielder signing I’m a little more willing to throw Mr. Illitch some of my dollars). I still can’t figure out how a Little Caesars pizza costs $5.30 on the street and a single slice costs $5.50 inside the ballpark. To be fair, I guess they do sell deep-dish slices inside Comerica so I should be comparing the $5.50 slice to something more like a $6.50 pizza. Either way you spin it, it’s thievery. Karianne loves her pizza though. The thick square piece of melted cheese and marinara sauce did attract my attention for a brief moment, but I knew I could steal some bites of hers and that would suffice.

     Personal pizza box in hand, we continued on to find something to satisfy my hunger. As we walked along the concrete path, cutting into any empty space we could in an attempt to find the fastest lane, the sweet smell of roasted almonds drifted into my nostrils. My speed slowed as we passed the white-topped booth distributing the nuts. Every time I’m here I go through an internal battle on whether or not to get a bag of the delectable nuts. Their smell is infatuating (someone should make a candle that smells like roasted almonds), but I know they won’t fully satisfy my growling stomach, so I carried on just thankful for the free smells.

     Stopped in a line a few hundred feet down, I could see the game had started up again. No runners on base, my attention turned to the menu next to the monitor. We got in line for pop, but I always have to look just in case something catches my eye. Classic ballpark food: hot dogs, nachos, pretzels, ice cream, fries and pop. “Oooh those look good,” Karianne pointed at a guy walking away from the register carrying a cup of fries. She may have been pretending like we were only in line for pop, but I know the two of us and I figured we would be walking away from the register with fries. Hot Dogs on the menu caught my eye like they always do. A hot dog is the best ballpark food, hands down. Why I decided to pass on a hot dog, I don’t know. Maybe I was trying to be adventurous, but a hot dog aways satisfies my hunger while taking in a ball game. The line shrunk in front of us until we finally reached the front. I was happy I passed on the almonds when the woman at the cash register told me my total, “$8.00.” Robbery.

     We snacked on the fries as we darted in and out of packs of people on the concourse. I had my head on a swivel scanning for possible food options. A small cart selling a special nacho supreme fascinated me. A person sitting close to us had been enjoying an order in the first inning and they did look delicious. Tortilla chips holding the weight of melted cheese, jalapenos, lettuce, ground beef, black olives, onions and salsa. To me though, that sounds more like a sit down meal. My ballpark tastes are much simpler than that. Too messy for my plastic green seat, we continued on. 

     Through its glass doors I could see that Leo’s Coney Island was too packed to go in and I still can’t figure out why. Who would sit down at a Coney Island at a baseball game? Like most of the other fans in Comerica, I grew up in a Detroit suburb. I spent many Friday nights in high school eating a chicken finger pita at my local Leo’s, but during a ball game? It’s absurd. I’m down with stepping up to the concourse to snag some food if it means missing an inning, more than an inning is absurd though, so sitting down at a restaurant inside a ballpark you paid $50 to get into just seems stupid to me. Sell your ticket, stay home and go to Leo’s with the money you just made.

     As we walked, we looked at thick grilled bratwurst and chicken tenders, but nothing seemed right to me. This was one of those times where I was looking for just the right food item. Everything looked good, but none of it seemed right. I was on a hunt for the perfect item to satisfy my craving, only I didn’t know what it would be. Karianne was beginning to get annoyed with me, “Can you please just pick something!?”

     I peeked down an aisle where I could get a glimpse of the massive scoreboard towering in left-field. The Tigers were just coming up to bat and had not given up any runs in their defensive half. Although my food hunt was taking my attention, the game is always what’s most important to me and I was beginning to get annoyed with myself for missing so many at bats. We slipped into the Big Cat food court. To enter we had to pass by yet another white topped booth exuding the intoxicating smell of roasted almonds. Karianne saw me looking, “Just get some. I’ll pay for it.”

     “No no,” I shook my head and continued moving. The circular area off the main concourse had restaurants around the entire perimeter and was highlighted by the large merry-go-round in the center with children riding on Tigers in various poses. We strolled around the perimeter, gazing upon the menu options. Elephant ears, cotton candy, frozen lemonade, chicken tenders. I stopped at one counter, staring at the white board menu. Chicago style hot dogs. The pickle spear, sweet relish, peppers and mustard looked divine smothering the hot dog snuggled inside the poppy seed bun. 

     As I looked at the Chicago style hot dog,I realized what I really wanted had been right in front of me the whole time. I walked away and got at the end of the Tigers’ Grill line. Karianne rolled her eyes, “Weren’t we already here?” It was true, I had passed around thirty Tigers’ Grills and already had my pockets robbed by one for fries and pop. “Two hot dogs please,” I said when I made it to the front a short time later.

     I grabbed my dogs and made my way toward another much shorter line for condiments. Just relish on one, mustard and relish on the other. It took me 20 minutes to finally settle on something I knew I had wanted the entire time. It’s tough to turn down something you love in favor of something new and I couldn’t deny myself the simple delicacies. I was satisfied with the hot dogs and did not regret my decision at all. 99% of the time I go to Comerica, I eat a hot dog. For some reason though, I get these urges that I should try something new. It’s not just at the ballpark either. When I go to a restaurant where I get the same thing almost every time I go, I’m always tempted to try a different item on the menu. Like that day at Comerica, I usually fail. I think it’s partially because I’m afraid to get something and be disappointed in it. It’s also because I just can’t turn down something I really like in favor of something else. Why would I want nachos when I have a love affair with ballpark hot dogs? I’m not the only one with a love affair for a food item either.

    Karianne piped up, “Can we please go sit down now? I’m dying to eat this pizza.”

Budget Cooking

     $5.00 for a dozen organic eggs, or $1.50 for eight non-organic eggs? This was my first stop pushing my empty cart through the tightly packed aisles of Meijer. I waited in line behind two people for access to the eggs and watched them both select organic. Prior to entering Meijer, I had not set any guidelines for my meal. I figured with my limited cooking experience, I’d select something I could cook that would be edible and leave it at that. Right then and there though, I decided to impose a few restrictions on myself. Some of my strongest reactions to The Omnivore’s Dilemma came from an economic viewpoint. So I decided to approach my meal with economics and dollar signs in mind.

     I went with the non-organic eggs. Not because I do not support the organic food movement, but because of my guidelines. I wanted to make an effort to approach the meal from the same position as many Americans. I was cooking one meal, so I could have afforded the one-time charge for the organic eggs. But, if I had to purchase eggs weekly, I’m not so sure I could afford the organic eggs and I’m confident that many American families cannot justify paying more than triple the price for four more eggs. I cannot deny that as I reached for the factory-farm eggs that images of the chicken houses in Food Inc. popped into my brain, but I tried to force that out my head. I was focused on attempting to make a healthy meal, but a healthy meal for a reasonable price, which is a dilemma I think many shoppers face every time they enter a supermarket.

     Though I could not justify the organic eggs, whole-wheat bread was of a close enough price to its competitors that it made sense to purchase it (plus it contained no high fructose corn syrup!). I went with simple Sara Lee brand ham and cheese. The label on the ham claimed no fillers and 30% less sodium than USDA data for ham. I’d be lying if I said I fell for all this bullshit (Michael Pollan made sure of that), but compared to other options in the same price range, I made an executive decision that this was the least of all evils.

     I ran into another issue in the fruits and vegetables section. For my meal I wanted to make a fruit salad. I figured even I could cut up a few different kind of fruits and spin them together into an alright mixture. Once again though, price was an issue. A fruit salad requires multiple types of fruit. After perusing the different options, I came to a conclusion that even purchasing just blueberries, pineapple and strawberries (three of my favorites) did not make sense for the price. I was then forced to make a decision, select just one or go with a Meijer brand fruit salad of pineapple, cantaloupe, honeydew, blueberries, watermelon and strawberries. I set out with this type of variety in mind and decided to go for it. I could have gone with a package of only strawberries (which cost almost the same as the salad) but as this combination of fruits is what I originally had in mind, I decided this is what I would serve. Is it taking the easy way out? Yes, I suppose so. But, like I stated before, I am confident that given the various fruits, I could craft my own salad. Unfortunately, my economic restriction would not allow me to do so.  And as I contemplated my own decision, I began to wonder how many other people around me faced similar issues, only theirs were not for one meal assigned for school, but instead their decisions would effect the mouths of their families.

      

     I ended up spending right around $25 total, which I was satisfied with. The amount of food I purchased would last more than one meal, but I honestly didn’t know how much longer. Throughout my life I have not been blind to the costs of food for a family, but there are some things that you never fully understand until you’re faced with the full burden of the decision. That being said, there are still many things I need to learn, but I think this project further opened my eyes to the issues people face every day in kitchens and supermarkets around the world.

      I cooked for myself and my girlfriend, Karianne. My planned meal consisted of fried egg, ham and cheese sandwiches, hash browns and fruit salad. Simple, I know. I’ve already admitted to a lack of cooking skill though, so I’ll leave it at that. A fried egg sandwich is one of a short list of items that I am confident I can make. The hash browns struck some fear in me. I’ve never attempted to make them before and have heard they can be difficult. Following a recipe online and using a few tweaks of my own (due to a lack of a shredding tool, I was forced to cut my potatoes into small pieces), I did my best to create hash browns that were not only edible, but somewhat attractive to the palate as well.

     My girlfriend was very satisfied with the final product. She raved to me that the hash browns were great, telling me, “you can make me hash browns anytime you want,” and about how wonderful the sandwich was. I love her, but she is prone to feeding my ego and even if the food were horrible, she would have probably eaten it with a smile on her face and flooded me with comments just the same.

     I tend to be a tougher critic on myself, but I was actually pretty happy with the food after completing my meal. The hash browns were not the best and I think cooking them with more salt and pepper would have helped with the overall flavor, but that issue could be somewhat solved on the plate. I honestly don’t know enough about cooking to point out other flaws, but I’m sure there were numerous. The sandwiches made me feel even better about myself. Although an attempt at adding artichoke hearts was not a great choice on my part and I don’t know if it’s because taking the cheap way out and buying a jar of artichoke hearts is just not a good idea or if the way I prepared them was just a poor method (I’d bet a mixture of both). Outside of that though, I had no true complaints. The flavors came out in everything and nothing overpowered its counterparts. Plus, I didn’t burn anything so that was a positive. 

     All in all, I’d say for spending very little time in kitchens, I did an alright job. This meal has provided me motivation to improve my cooking skills. Hopefully in the future I’ll be able to make a dish and feel confident serving it to other people. And if I never reach that goal, at least I know one person I can guarantee will give me a good review.