Talking 'Bout My Generation

To the dismay of my 14-year-old-son, it turns out that Facebook is chockfull of 40-something moms.  Bummer.  For him.  The way I see it, FB was practically  invented for us.

Think about it.  Kids FB to communicate with the very same people they see all day long.  Adults, on the other hand, FB to keep up with scarcely seen friends, co-workers, former neighbors, old classmates, and your 6th grade boyfriend from Harborview Middle School, who along with you, was named "Most Likely To Succeed."  Hah.  Go ahead and toss that crystal ball in the trash.  But back to the story at hand.

As much as I embrace the idea of letter-writing, if my out-of-town family ever got a handwritten note from me, hand-delivered by the US Postal Service, they'd understandably expect the worst -- either I was communicating from beyond the grave or sending a request for ongoing financial support.  Neither bodes well for me.  Facebook is a far better means of reaching out and touching them -- if not as lucrative.

Facebook isn't the only takeover target for us acquisitive middle-aged moms.  Years ago, our kids claimed Led Zeppelin, the Beatles, Jimi Hendrix and Bruce Springsteen, so I have no qualms about embracing Coldplay, Maroon 5 and Five For Fighting.  And you know, I don't think (lead singers) Chris Martin or Adam Levine mind one bit.  Who do you suppose can better afford their concert tickets -- me or my babysitting kids?  True, as childcare providers, the kids earn ridiculous money, but it's an easy win for me.  They can't drive.

And how about blue jeans?  I truly felt for dear Jessica Simpson when she wore those absurd high-waisted jeans.  Anyone from the Fort Johnson High School graduating class of 1980 could have told her that even the bendiest pipecleaner of a girl would find those things unflattering, uncomfortable and just plain stupid-looking. Why do you suppose we moms practically stampeded to buy the low-rider jeans of today's generation?  We couldn't wear our maternity jeans (with their comfy, stretchy, jersey front panels) forever.  Low-rider jeans are the new "mom" jeans.  Leave those silly high-waisted things to the young and ahem, visually- or at least, fashion-impaired.

Sure, the younger generation fights back.  I hear that there's a renewed interest in some of the more budget-minded food we ate growing up.  They can have it.  But I've got to ask, why resort to canned cream of mushroom soup, when you can make a version of tuna and noodles that could be voted most likely to succeed any night of the week?

Not Your Mama's Tuna and Noodles

3/4 pound angel hair pasta, broken into 3" - 4" pieces and cooked al dente

1/3 cup extra virgin olive oil (maybe more)

1/2 onion, chopped

2 cloves garlic, minced fine

2 cans tuna, packed in oil (not drained)

1 small can black olives, drained and sliced

2 tablespoons capers, drained

1 lemon, juiced and zested

red pepper flakes

handful of parsley, minced

salt and pepper

1/2 - 1 cup of chicken broth

After noodles have cooked, drain well.  Heat olive oil in hot pan, saute chopped onion until soft and stir in garlic until fragrant.  When onion and garlic are soft, stir in tuna (undrained) olives, capers and lemon zest.  Heat through, and gently stir in hot, drained pasta.  Season with red pepper flakes, parsley, salt and pepper.  Stir in reserved lemon juice, and enough chicken broth so that pasta is loose.  Serve carefully, making sure everyone gets plenty of the "good stuff" left at the bottom of the pan.

Another Favorite Word -- And Food

I suspect that one reason Charlotte was ranked number two, rather than number one, in the recent "Manliest City" survey is because we have two Trader Joe's grocery stores. Nashville, which took the top honors, only has one. Someone had to pay the price, and if it means I get to have a Trader Joe's just a few miles away, it's OK by me.

Trader Joe's, if you're not familiar, is a privately owned, groovy kind of grocery store, chockfull of organic produce, fresh-made salads, imported cheeses and various oddities (chocolate-covered, salted edamame, anyone?) that make it a destination, rather than an errand. ( They also have a large selection of very fairly priced wines, but I'm on the abstinence plan until Easter.)

Among the mouth-watering, wallet-opening selection of prepared foods, Joe offers "balela," a chickpea salad, which, in addition to being both unusual and flavorful, is also a lot of fun to say. I'm adding it to my list of favorite words, along with "serendipity" (see my February 22 blog entry) and "malaka" (a handy Greek word I won't define here because my kids may read this).

Balela, balela, balela. There. I'm already smiling.

Oddly, balela is only available seasonally, which means I haven't been able to get my fix for a couple of months. Last night, I made my own attempt to duplicate it, and three, no, make that four, servings later, I've got to say it's pretty good -- even if it does nothing to improve our fair city's "manly" rating.

Balela (Chickpea Salad)

2 cans of chickpeas (rinsed and drained)

1 cup chopped parsley

1/2 cup chopped mint

1 roma tomato, diced

1/4 cup red onion, diced

1 clove garlic, minced fine

1/2 cup white balsamic vinegar

1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil

generous squeeze of lemon juice

1 teaspoon kosher or sea salt

generous grinding of black pepper

Gently stir together chickpeas, parsley, mint, tomato and red onion. In a separate bowl, stir together remaining ingredients and pour over chickpeas. Stir gently and refrigerate. If I can restrain myself, it will last 4-5 days in the fridge.

A Failed Foodie

I want to know what yuzu tastes like.  Actually, I'd be happy to know what yuzu looks like.  Is it a fruit, found in the produce section?  Can it be a powder, like wasabi or mustard?  Does it come in a jar -- like some sort of exotic jelly?

I honestly don't know, but after taking in countless cooking shows, including this season's Top Chef, I'm beginning to feel like that one girl in 6th grade who didn't get an invitation to the slumber party.  Has yuzu become some sort of double top-secret ingredient for chefs?

Since I don't know what yuzu is, I'm not sure where to find it.  Can I even get it on the shelves (racks, bins, freezer) of my friendly neighborhood Harris Teeter?

Is it near the truffle oil?  That was last year's foodie favorite and it also blew right past me.  But at least I can imagine what it looks like.  (Oil, right?)  I also understand how to cook with it.  (Sparingly, duh.)

One food trend I wish I had missed is cilantro.  It rolled into Charlotte about 15 years ago and just won't go away.  The first time I cooked with cilantro, I dumped the entire dish in the trash.  I figured it was the recipe, but nope, it was the cilantro.  Everyone else seems to love cilantro (a.k.a. fresh coriander).  I even hear folks order, for crying out loud, extra cilantro on their burritos and tacos.  To me, it tastes like parsley-shaped pieces of Dial soap.  But not as tasty.

I'm very comfortable cooking with balsamic vinegar, goat cheese, frozen puff pastry and proscuitto, which is a clear indication of how far off the food trend cliff these ingredients have fallen.  They had their day in the sun and now they're having their day in my fridge.  I regularly use a couple of these foodie fashion outcasts in one of my favorite go-to hors d'oeuvres -- Proscuitto Palmiers.

These savory bites are scarfed up every time I make them.  Flaky puff pastry may be passé, but this is a case where, I don't care who you are -- good is just good.  And I know exactly where to find the ingredients in my grocery store.

Proscuitto Palmiers

1 pkg. frozen puff pastry (two 18 x 11 sheets), thawed

dijon mustard

fresh thyme, finely minced

2 cups freshly grated parmesan or gruyere cheese

8 oz. thinly sliced proscuitto

2 egg whites

2 tablespoons water

sea salt

Roll out one sheet of puff pastry on a lightly floured board.  Brush scantily with mustard and sprinkle with thyme and half of the cheese.  Arrange half of proscuitto evenly over the cheese.  Starting at one long edge, roll up the puff pastry (snugly) like a jelly roll just up to the middle of the dough.  Then, roll up the other side in the same fashion, making the two rolls meet in the center.  Repeat with second puff pastry sheet and remaining ingredients.  Chill rolls for about 30 minutes.

Preheat oven to 400 degrees.  Using a serrated knife, slice the rolls crosswise into 1/2" slices.  (At this point, slices can be frozen, well-packaged -- for baking later.)  Place slice on cookie sheets lined with parchment paper and press lightly with your hands to flatten.

Beat the egg whites and water together and brush tops of palmiers.  Sprinkle lightly with sea salt.  Bake until puffed and lightly golden, about 10 minutes.  Remove to rack to cool.  Can be prepared a day in advance.