Len's News, Notes, and Stuff

An Ode to Mould

Mould isn’t always a bad thing. Yes, it’s the disgusting fuzzy stuff that grows on our food when we keep it for too long. Yes, it’s the disgusting slimy stuff that grows in dark, damp places in the house. Yes, it’s the stuff that causes allergic reactions in people in old buildings. Yes, it’s part of what causes “sick office building syndrome”. There are many reasons why moulds are rightfully disliked.

However, there are also many reasons why we should be thankful for moulds. I’m not going to talk about the ecological benefits and the nutrient cycle and all that. No, I’m going to talk about the benefits that you and I can feel, touch, smell and taste!

I know, it sounds disgusting to feel, touch and taste anything to do with mould. Bear with me, though.

Moulds give us some of the most wonderful tastes in cuisines around the world:

• cheese of all kinds, not just blue cheeses
• specialty wines like botrytised wines
• fish sauce such as nuoc mam
• chinese black bean paste
• miso
• soy sauce
• rice vinegar

Without miso, soy sauce, and nuoc mam, much of what we now have in Chinese, Japanese, and Vietnamese cuisine would disappear. Without cheese, some of the finest gustatory experiences of Western Europe would disappear – indeed, without cheese of any kind, Italian cuisine would cease to be Italian.

With this in mind, let me take a moment to present my ode to mould:

Like wisps of cotton candy you appear
Wherever I turn, you are there.
Often I scold you and scorn you at first sight
Knowing that what you have begun to eat
I dare not touch out of sensible fright.

Little did I know that what you have given
Far outweighs what you have taken.
All the wonders of the world of cheese I owe to you,
I would be lost without cheese and not know what to do.
Asian cuisine far in the east relies on your work
Building a myriad of tastes on the things you make where you lurk.

I curse you when you take from me
And I will likely never stop scolding thee.
Yet for far too long have I neglected thank you
For all that you have given in tastes and plenitude.

Wild Coho Salmon vs Farmed Atlantic Salmon: Which is Better for Sushi?

Preparing one’s own sushi and sashimi is a pleasure. It’s a good deal price-wise compared to eating out, and the act of prepping the fish, slicing it, and presenting it nicely on the serving platter is a very calming, relaxing experience. The enjoyment of the food at the end is, of course, a huge plus as well! (The matter of making good sushi rice however, is a little less pleasurable… at least for now until I practice enough to make good sushi rice!)

A few days ago, I had a choice between a side of wild coho salmon with deep, rich red color and a side of farmed Atlantic salmon in the familiar light orange with white streaks. Pricing wasn’t too far off one another – about $8/lb for the Atlantic, and $10/lb for the wild coho. Not having tried the wild coho for sashimi before, and having a preference for wild-caught fish over farmed, I decided to give the coho a try.

Different types of salmon are different species. They need to be treated as such and thought of as such. Unfortunately, that didn’t occur to me when I grabbed the coho for sashimi. Was it a bad choice, though? Not really. It’ s not bad, it’s just different.

Wild coho salmon is leaner than farmed Atlantic salmon. It’s probably not even a matter of wild versus farmed but a matter of the species with the Atlantic salmon having evolved with higher levels of body fat to thrive in the colder Atlantic waters. The fact that wild salmon are probably more active just accentuates this innate difference. This leads to the two notable differences between coho and Atlantic salmon when it comes to the eating experience: texture and taste.

Really, the only thing that isn’t different is the aroma, which I have to say isn’t a big part of the raw fish experience. So by saying that the texture and taste are different, I’m essentially saying that they are not at all alike.

The coho salmon, because it is leaner, is not nearly as smooth as Atlantic salmon. It doesn’t glide over your palate.  It feels like lean maguro (tuna) in texture but is noticeably denser than maguro. It is slightly less fatty and slightly less smooth than hamachi (yellowtail). It is nowhere close to the fatty, silky smooth texture of Atlantic salmon.

As a combination of its leanness and the fact that the fish had to survive in the wild, the coho salmon is also more savory than farmed Atlantic. It tastes “meatier”, reflecting the fact that a greater proportion of the meat is functional muscle conditioned to high levels of physical activity.

Which do I prefer? I actually prefer the silky smoothness of Atlantic salmon. I still enjoyed the coho salmon, it’s just that it needs to be thought of as a completely different fish.

Make Your Own Stock, Get Raves From Friends + Family

I’ve gotten compliments from my friends and family for the food that I’ve made, but I received the most enthusiastic raves for my cooking these past two nights. The secret is no secret at all: I made some seriously kick-ass vegetable stock from scratch and used it in my dishes.

Good food really does come down to the basics: use good, fresh ingredients, and do everything you can to (a) bring out the best in them and (b) not mess things up. Really, all we’re doing when we make good food is coax the best out of the ingredients and combine them in ways that show them to best effect.

Good stock is the foundation for many dishes, and it’s really a big part of why fancy restaurant food (usually) tastes much nicer than regular home-cooked fare. Sure, you can buy stock in the supermarket, but I guarantee you it won’t taste quite as good as stock you make yourself from good ingredients. I know that from personal experience, and I’m sure your experience would be the same.

At the end of the weekend, I made a big batch of vegetable stock. It was nothing fancy at all – just put in some fresh leeks, carrots, celery, and onion and then let it simmer for a while.  I was in a bit of a rush and actually forgot to add in the flat-leaf parsley and thyme! Still, with fresh vegetables doing their thing, the stock at the end of the easy process came out pretty nicely.  The first dish I made was actually the reason why I made the stock in the first place: a simple risotto with prosciutto and zucchini.

The risotto was basic and simple to make – it took some time and attention at the stove, yes, but the steps were easy. I used some high-quality olive oil, sauteed some diced onion, threw in the arborio rice grains and sweat them a bit. I added some white wine and cooked it off, added in the prosciutto and zuccini and cooked them for a few minutes. Then it was just half an hour of adding in the still-warm vegetable stock a ladle or two at a time, stirring and letting the risotto incorporate it.  At the very end, I stirred in a small pile of grated parmigiano reggiano and tadaa, that was it! I had ended up stirring in three quarters of the stock into the risotto and still had about a quarter left over.

When we ate the risotto, it was rich, deep and flavorful. Everyone at the table agreed that it was a fantastically tasty experience. There was a bit of risotto left over, so someone got to eat it for lunch the next day. I got a call at work about it, actually. “It’s too damn tasty! I want to eat more, but if I keep eating good food like this I’m going to get seriously fat!”

The remainder of the stock went into a bouillabaisse with tomatoes, onion, haddock, some shrimp, and a good amount of flat-leaf parsley and cilantro. We served the bouillabaisse with some parboiled rice, and wow, more rave reviews!

I had originally made the vegetable stock to make the risotto in order to use up some arborio rice I happened to have on-hand. I made the bouillabaisse in order to use up the leftover vegetable stock. What I ended up with was two great meals, 2 extra lunches and great raves from 4 different guests.

Making stock can be a bit of a hassle when one makes beef stock, chicken stock or seafood stock. The hassle comes from the cleanup process more than anything else, I think. Vegetable stock, on the other hand, is easy and the cleanup is quick and painless. The results, however, are absolutely amazing.

I highly recommend that you make your own stock, because I think you’re going to really enjoy your meals made with the stock and I’m pretty sure you’re going to get raves from your friends & family!

Verify the Veracity of Advice You Receive by Email – Even When It Comes from Trusted Sources

Bad information flows around anywhere, even within networks of emergency management professionals. Just yesterday, there was an article credited to Doug Coup flying around the email system. It came to me from an individual in my branch, who got it from someone at another branch with a lot of emergency response experience, who got it from someone at the federal level and also has extensive emergency management experience. The entire chain of people who had touched and forwarded the email was credible.

Unfortunately, nobody had bothered to verify the facts and advice espoused by the article.

In the forwarded article, Doug Copp talks about his experience with the American Rescue Team International but does not note that it is a private company and that his experience is primarily in countries abroad, such as in Mexico and Turkey. He advocate the “Triangle of Life” rather than the “Duck & Cover” advice that the American Red Cross and FEMA promote in the United States. His justification is that in his experience, buildings collapse and “pancake” on the objects within them. Therefore, ducking under cover means getting crushed under the furniture in question, while those who lie down next to the objects have a chance to survive in the triangular gap created by the floor above breaking on the object and creating a triangular “lean-to” kind of space for survival.

However, after only 15 minutes of light research, I found a few credible sources that refute the Triangle of Life advice.

Snopes.com is a good source for verifying a lot of the stuff that goes around by email. Though it is not an academic or authoritative site, the Snopes folks typically do a good job of investigating and assessing the validity of common chain emails or viral messages going around social networks. Their assessment is that the jury is still out on the Triangle of Life, but that it leans towards being crap advice.

Earthquake Solutions is another private company, in this case a consulting company helping clients assess risks and develop mitigation and response plans. They cite that in their experience in the United States, Copp’s advice is wrong and downright dangerous.

However, the most authoritative source is the American Red Cross itself. Citing numbers and specific data from their experience with earthquake response, the Red Cross provides solid reasons why the “Drop, Cover, Hold On” is still the best course of action in an earthquake situation. The key points in their response are:

• “Drop, cover, and hold on!” is a U.S.-based recommendation based on U.S. Building Codes and construction standards.
• Engineering researchers have demonstrated that very few buildings collapse or “pancake” in the U.S. as they might do in other countries.
• Most injuries happened as a result of the collapse of [a street section, or] from falls caused by people trying to get out of their homes, or serious cuts and broken bones when people ran, barefooted, over broken glass.
• The American Red Cross has not recommended use of a doorway for earthquake protection for more than a decade. The problem is that many doorways are not built into the structural integrity of a building, and may not offer protection.
• [Try not] to move (that is, escape) during the shaking of an earthquake. The more and the longer distance that someone tries to move, the more likely they are to become injured by falling or flying debris, or by tripping, falling, or getting cut by damaged floors, walls, and items in the path of escape.

The Red Cross is not saying that identifying potential voids is wrong or inappropriate. What we are saying is that “Drop, Cover, and Hold On!” is NOT wrong — in the United States. The American Red Cross, being a U.S.-based organization, does not extend its recommendations to apply in other countries. What works here may not work elsewhere, so there is no dispute that the “void identification method” or the “Triangle of Life” may indeed be the best thing to teach in other countries where the risk of building collapse, even in moderate earthquakes, is great.

I made the mistake of forwarding on the original Triangle of Life article to close friends because it seemed credible and came from people whom I trust. I am glad that something tickled the back of my brain and prodded me to check up on the information. After just a bit of cursory research, I found enough contrary advice from other sources that I trust – most notably the American Red Cross response – that I had to quickly write back to my friends to tell them to disregard the prior information I’d just sent to them. I was even careful to look for attempts to discredit Doug Copp’s theory by discrediting him alone, but this was not the case. His advice, at least in an American and Canadian context and based on prior experience and data from the field, is wrong and dangerous.

Even when information comes from trusted sources, it is very much worth your while to do some personal research to verify it – particularly when it’s about saving lives.

I Don’t Suffer From A Knife Addiction

I love good cooking knives. Some say I suffer from a knife addiction, but I’m not so sure about it. Yes, I have strong desires for more knives, different knives, all in a quest to experience what else the artisans and craftsmen of steel have created to make cooking more enjoyable, more elegant, and flat-out better. I don’t suffer from it, though. Not at all. I do, however, suffer from my inability to share this passion with those around me.

Yes, it hurts when those you care about think you’re stark raving mad for thinking about getting a $280 slicer (300mm sujihiki, actually) because it’s being discontinued and won’t be made any more. It is disconcerting when I lose to an eBay sniper my $400 bid for a 40-year-old set of handmade honyaki knives (a 300mm yanagi and 165mm deba made by Keijiri Doi) worth $1000. It stings even more when, out of a desire to share the joy of cutting and cooking, one ends up rebuked strongly for planning to buy knives for the other person.

Few people would understand why an entire online community of knife knuts is excited about a $375 knife that is being heralded as “the best sub-$1000 gyuto you can get”. Few people would understand why I have paid several hundred dollars for handmade chinese cleavers (chuka bocho from Japanese knife maker Mr. Shosui Takeda actually) when you can get Chinatown specials for about $20 or less.

Yet, occasionally the mainstream world, such as the Globe & Mail newspaper, peers into this world of raving fans enamored with high-performance steel.

“I draw the blade effortlessly through a tomato, creating a perfect slice, then another. The knife is light, the stroke is smooth and silky – I’m hooked.”

“Knife enthusiasts are drawn to the pure precision that comes with sharper Japanese blades.”

“These knives are nice, but actually learning how they should be used, perfecting the Japanese technique and hand control of these knives, is what’s amazing.”

I must admit that I continue to strive to improve my knife skills. I continue to strive to perfect my technique. I continue to strive to live up to the level of artistry and performance that my knives embody.

There is an incredible thrill from using a knife that cuts effortlessly as you dice an onion without your eyes tearing up. There is physical joy from chopping a pile of vegetables quickly into a pile of perfectly-formed pieces ready for the heat of the stove or oven. There is sublime appreciation for visual and gustatory perfection when one slices fish into perfectly-textured sashimi, or a quickly-seared steak into paper-thin slices of beef sashimi.

I can’t share these joys or thrills with anyone I know in person. I do not suffer from a knife addiction. I suffer from being unable to share my joy and excitement.

I suppose that is simply the way things are for knife knuts, knife knerds, and those hooked on anything not mainstream.