06/18/2007

In the Kitchen

Why we cook: The reasons for what we do

By Sally Ketchum
Local columnist
ketchum1985@
gmail.com

Read Sally's past columns here

He-Who-Must-Be-Fed loves music: listening to it, singing it, playing it and researching it. He even fiddles with composing.

A couple of days ago he handed me nine or 10 pages of a scholarly article called, "A Reason for Singing.” Written by Dr. P.J. Janson, a music professor at Augustana University College in Alberta, Canada, the piece deals with the history of and reasons for church music. It was deep reading, and I had to read it slowly to appreciate it, but it left me with new understanding and respect for music in church.

It occurred to me that a lot in life is enriched with a little musing or some serious pondering about other things we do. We so often take our activities for granted, saying, "Well, this is what we do.” We might get more satisfaction in our lives by considering the reasons for having children, loving nature or art, living where we do, and more. Then, of course, I got to thinking about the reasons we cook. That sure opened the kitchen door, or Pandora's box, depending on which aspect of cooking I considered.

There are many reasons we cook — some obvious, some not so apparent.

First I thought, as did Irma Rombauer, the cookbook author, about the joy of cooking. It's fun, and when the food turns out well, cooking is, indeed, a joy. What do I mean by turning out well? I mean food that is tasty, beautiful, health-giving and welcome at the occasion or moment. Then these thoughts pushed me into endless reveries about such minutiae as the polished purple of eggplants, the scent of cloves in Earl Grey tea, how fantastic a hot dog tastes when one is famished after a day at a country fair.

Of course, some foods need to be cooked unless diners are on raw diets. Cooking is also a responsibility, a duty that we volunteered to do, sign up for as a mate, parent or roommate. (However, in the last several weeks, I've met three women who simply do not cook. They don't want to, don't do it, and yet get by much more easily than you would think.)

A main reason we cook is that the process is satisfying. This might be splitting hairs, but satisfaction is different from joy. Joy is the frosting, the sauce and the garnish. Satisfaction is the heart, the substance and an aim in life because it supports life: We live and we produce. "I cook, therefore, I am.”

We choose the meat, rub it with herbs and cook a roast, producing a meal. The production is akin to a knitting sweater, building a boat, taking a spelling test or putting an engagement ring on the beloved's finger. It is recognition of a relationship. Of course, special cooking marks celebrations, as in cooking tailored to the occasion, candles on the cake, shaped cookies at Christmas, barbecue at reunions. Such food recognizes there is meaning in the event.

Frying perch is the cook's acknowledging — giving a well-deserved nod to a fisherman's skills. It is the link between the purveyor and the cook. Throwing good, on-hand vegetables into a soup pot is like bundling up toddlers with whatever is around that will protect them while they make snow angels. We live. We protect life. Cooking is a strong stream in the life force.

I see cooking as an education, and learning is one thing that keeps us young. I learned, or realized, yesterday that I can usually double the vanilla in recipes. I learned that a new book, "Our Best Recipes: Better Homes and Gardens,” is terrific for family cooking.

It has warm remembrance of the days of grandma's red- and white-checkered original and the solid, comforting food it suggested. But I also learned that Raymond Sokolov, the Wall Street Journal's food writer, has an entirely new slant on food, especially vegetables, in his new book, "A Canon of Vegetables: 101 Recipes.” He sees new emphasis on vegetables that is not vegetarian in philosophy; it is "vegentric,” that is, meals planned around vegetables. Wow! A whole new way of looking at planning the family dinner.

I can think of more reasons we cook than there are peas in a pod. But I think we cook for reasons not unlike the those for why we sing. And sing we do, even if one is tone-deaf and unmusical, like me. We sing when no one is looking, and sometimes, when we cook.

Tooth and Fruit Watermelon Jaws

• 1 large, longish, ripe watermelon
• Enough mixed fruit to fill the hollowed melon
• 1-2 c. sweet fruit juice

You can include: Cantaloupe, honeydew melons, green grapes, red grapes, blueberries, strawberries, raspberries, pitted sweet cherries, pineapple, peaches, pears, plums, apricots, bananas, kiwis (some folks are allergic to kiwis), the removed watermelon flesh and fresh mint for garnish.

Working on a large surface, tip the watermelon up a bit, in about a 45-degree angle, propped on folded kitchen towels. Using a sharp, long knife to make one-inch zigzag cuts to resemble shark teeth, cut a large V-shaped "mouth” into the melon. Reserve the cut-out rind. Scoop out the flesh using a melon-baller, or cut out large chunks and use the melon baller on the chunks.

In a large bowl, mix the desired fruits, as many as you prefer for a large party.

Mix one to two cups of a sweet fruit juice into the fruit mixture and ladle the mixture into the "shark-melon.” Fashion a fish tail from reserved rind and secure to the watermelon's end with toothpicks. Serve propped up.

Sally Ketchum lives, cooks and ponders food philosophy in northern Michigan. She can be reached at ketchum1985@gmail.com.