Issue No. 2: Takeout Paralysis
Plus cookbook award noms, Jane Austen, and Mayonnaise Cults
Good morrow, dear readers, and welcome to the second edition of E&C.
Before we dive in, I first want to say thank you so much for all your comments and follows and shares and subscribes after the first issue! It’s always a little scary to share something for the first time, so I really do appreciate everyone who reached out. I’ve had people ask for recipes and cookbook recommendations, and even had a reader share about a cooking class she and her daughter took with Julia Child as the teacher! What I would give.
I love hearing from you. Keep sending in any thoughts or suggestions, recipes you love or books you’re into. Perhaps we will start a letter to the editor section down the road.
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I have entirely too many other things to share. In the Table of Contents for this issue:
Journal: Why I’ve banned myself from ordering takeout
Bookshelf: Books about Cooks Pt. 1
Newsstand: Cookbook awards, Jane Austen, The French Chef, and Mayonnaise Cults
Menu: Summer of Chicken Salad, plus my favorite veggie dish
Shall we begin?
The Journal
The amount of times I’ve cried ordering takeout is entirely embarrassing.
No, really. Just ask my husband.
Maybe this seems ridiculous to you because, in fact, it is ridiculous. It is actually absurd that I cannot complete the simple task of clicking “Order” on Door Dash without having a breakdown. Somehow, I end up in tears almost every time.
Once when Mitchell was out of town, I thought, “Ah yes, I’ll order Indian food." I opened Favor and browsed the different Indian restaurants. I perused the menus and considered what my evening could be like. Tikka Masala, samosas, garlic naan, rice. After an hour of deep contemplation, I placed my order with great trepidation. And as soon as I hit submit, I was overwhelmed with regret. I immediately canceled the order.
Not long after, I then regretted canceling the order. So I messaged customer service and tried to tell them that actually I did want my Indian food. I agonized over the thought that I might have been charged money without receiving anything and thus would have to tell Mitch about this whole debacle. I felt like I might as well have flushed cash down my toilet. And believe it or not when I tell you that after going back and forth with customer service, I finally told them, “You know what, don’t even bother. Just cancel the reorder too.” And then it was 8 p.m., and I was home alone, and I was so upset by the whole ordeal that I made a turkey sandwich and went to bed.
This is not the only time this kind of experience has happened to me. In fact, it’s happened so many times that Mitch and I mutually decided it’s just better for both of us if I forego food delivery apps altogether.
See, I love the idea of food from any restaurant I could imagine conveniently dropped on my doorstep. There should be nothing emotional about a transaction of this nature. But at this point, after so many occurrences of what we in the East household have now deemed “takeout paralysis,” I’ve been asking myself why this keeps happening.
When I think through the most glaring instances, i.e. Episode 1 of Great Indian Takeout Show, I see a few things happening. First, getting my food was going to take at least 45 minutes. I could’ve driven somewhere faster. Second, it was going to cost something north of $30, which felt irresponsible. Third, I had taken so long to decide what I wanted that I was no longer enchanted with the idea of my curry-themed feast. And lastly, what if my food was cold or bland or uninteresting or not amazing? I felt guilty for even wanting it in the first place.
And this seems to be the pattern: Time, Cost, Appetite, Expectations, Fear.
I could get somewhere faster.
I could spend less if I cooked it myself.
I don’t want that anymore.
What if it doesn’t live up to my expectations?
What if this experience fails me?
Just while we are here, for the record, no, no logical person should go from Point A, “I’m hungry let’s order from Uber Eats”, to Point B, “What is the meaning of my life, and is it fulfilling?” But here I am, questioning my destiny every time I don’t feel like cooking.
Somewhere along the way, I got stuck in thinking that every bite of food I ate had to be some kind of experience. You know that scene in Ratatouille where Remy the rat finds cheese on the garbage pile and an old strawberry and when it all comes together, it is as if he has seen God.
Well, truth be told, I am Remy.
I am an epicurean rat lurking around your kitchen in search of nothing less than transcendence.
Long ago and far away, I fell in love with food. And I have a hard time letting go of the experiential aspect of eating. I want a meal to be something more than just functional. I want it to be memorable and meaningful and delightful. If I lived in Paris, I would not suffer from takeout paralysis because I could walk down from my shabby flat and have the best baguette and brie of my life for lunch every day and all would be well. But my paralysis is a real problem in my life that often results in marital conflict, and we are trying to avoid that from here on out.
So then, what shall we say of Uber Eats? Shall we go on attempting to order takeout that tears may abound?
I have resolved that I must abide by my own ex-communication from the food delivery community and get a grip. I must learn that some days you just eat lunch—whatever it may be.
My husband has taught me this lesson more than anyone. To him, lunch could be a handful of grapes, the remnants of a bag of granola, an aging wedge of cheddar, an apple eaten to the core of its being, and the end of the chicken enchiladas from three nights ago. He says, “Just eat what is there because it fuels you when there’s work to be done.” I say, But What of The Menu? (I’m rolling my eyes at myself).
Early in our marriage, Saturday lunch would roll around and the fridge, to me, seemed empty of a fully conceived meal. There was no culinary concept at work. The likes of these scraps would be enough to plop me on the couch of a psychiatrist. We must look outward! Alas, Mr. Scrounge Around would resourcefully find a way forward to just eat what was there. And I would watch in agony because it just wasn’t right to eat yogurt and enchiladas for lunch. And I would, at the same time, be so distressed to pick an option from elsewhere that I would cave and figure out some combination of leftovers that made at least some bit of sense to my palate.
But it’s not like the world ended or our stomachs revolted for making them endure such banality.
I’ve decided it is entirely unreasonable, and dare I say insufferable, to be opposed to both the limitlessness of takeout and the limitedness of my own refrigerator. I can’t say I have too much choice and am therefore paralyzed while also saying what is actually in front of me is not enough to satisfy my cravings. This is the worst version of myself, probably.
Sometimes, you just have to shut up and eat lunch.
In the end, my concerns about takeout prove to be true almost always. I can make myself something simple much quicker. I can spend less. I can control the outcome of the quality of something I prepare. Most importantly, I can just eat lunch and go about my life without throwing myself into disarray over whether or not I really wanted chicken tikka masala today.
Let me tell you that I am working on this lesson. Right now, I have limited the occasions which merit having food delivered to my house. I order Indian food about once a month because that is probably the one cuisine I cannot replicate at home. I only order pizza or Chuy’s fajitas on a long day when people are coming over and I didn’t have enough time to whip up dinner. And here’s what I am discovering (as if it requires discovery or the scientific method): these foods are exactly what they should be. Paper plates and packets of powdery parmesan. Domino’s didn’t promise me anything more than that.
I am learning food is sometimes just for eating and not for emotionally encountering the highest pleasures of life. Or maybe sometimes the things that taste the best are the simplest.
Is this just the entire plot of Ratatouille? Yes.
Most of all, I am learning to be content with turkey sandwiches.
The Bookshelf
BOOKS BY COOKS — PT. 1
I love to read books by chefs, about chefs, about food, about cooking etc. etc., so for anyone interested in this niche corner of publishing, I’m going to highlight a few favorites!
A recent favorite recommended by my brother-in-law: Supper of the Lamb by Robert Farrar Capon. Episcopal priest meets food writing. Theological reflection meets brilliant commentary on onions. I thoroughly enjoyed every bit of it.
A taste of what’s inside:
O Lord, refresh our sensibilities. Give us this day our daily taste. Restore to us soups that spoons will not sink in, and sauces which are never the same twice. Raise up among us stews with more gravy than we have bread to blot it with, and casseroles that put starch and substance in our limp modernity. Take away our fear of fat and make us glad of the oil which ran upon Aaron's beard. Give us pasta with a hundred fillings, and rice in a thousand variations. Above all, give us grace to live as true men - to fast till we come to a refreshed sense of what we have and then to dine gratefully on all that comes to hand. Drive far from us, O Most Bountiful, all creatures of air and darkness; cast out the demons that possess us; deliver us from the fear of calories and the bondage of nutrition; and set us free once more in our own land, where we shall serve Thee as Thou hast blessed us - with the dew of heaven, the fatness of the earth, and plenty of corn and wine. Amen.
Please send any other must-read chef biographies or fantastic food writing my way if you have a favorite too.
The Newsstand
First off, in the previous issue, I misspelled newsstand, so we won’t do that anymore. Onward.
IACP AWARDS FINALISTS
The IACP—International Association of Culinary Professionals—(not to be confused with the International Association of Chiefs of Police) announced the finalists for all kinds of food media awards. There are so many great books on here that I can’t wait to own/read someday. Such as…
Snacking Cakes by Yossy Arefi – I am of the firm belief that Americans don’t eat enough cake. Cakes for the afternoon! A slice for a Tuesday! The British understand this. Yossy (clearly) understands this. Join me on this campaign to normalize eating cake for more than just your birthday.
The Secret Life of Groceries: The Dark Miracle of the American Supermarket by Benjamin Lorr – This book sounds endlessly fascinating to me. A few months back, I placed a hold on my library app but did not claim it in time. Planning to get back on the waitlist to read and learn where my food comes from. Hopefully, this book will confirm my theory that H-E-B should run the government.
Dessert Person by Claire Saffitz – I own this title but I haven’t braved any recipes yet. I can say though that my friend Andrew has made the rather ambitious croquembouche (how very French of him) and it was magnificent, I cannot lie. I sometimes read this book just because the table of contents is truly a marvel. Think cookbook goes to Harvard. (Claire actually did). Smart, slightly pretentious, excellent outcomes.
Will look forward to seeing what winners will be announced later this fall! Here’s the link to the full list of finalists.
JANE AUSTEN AS A MORAL PHILOSOPHER
In this Trinity Forum podcast, Karen Swallow Prior discusses Jane Austen as a moral philosopher, deeply Christian thinker, and teacher of virtue ethics. Pride and Prejudice as an example of liturgies of ordinary life? Yes, please.
WILL I BECOME A “MAGNOLIA PERSON” NOW?
While I have never been a Fixer Upper fangirl, all my props to Joanna Gaines for securing all episodes of Julia Child’s The French Chef to be on Magnolia Network, launching this week.
I MIGHT HAVE JOINED A MAYONNAISE CULT
From America’s Test Kitchen: Why Do So Many Swear by Duke’s Mayonnaise
Ok here’s the deal. I was very anti-mayonnaise my entire life for no reason other than it just seemed gross to me. But then I learned it’s just eggs emulsified in oil. And then I discovered Duke’s mayonnaise mixed with freshly grated garlic and cayenne pepper slathered on really just about anything but especially on tiny roasted potatoes, and my life changed.
The Menu
SUMMER OF CHICKEN MAYO
Following in the theme of mayonnaise, one of my favorite uses of Duke’s is chicken salad. I am very particular about my chicken salad. No celery. No crunchy things. Tangy but not too mayonnaisey. Uncluttered. Chicken-y. This is directly inspired by a sandwich shop in Oxford that served up a delicious “chicken mayo.” Title seems fitting for what I’m trying to do here. I use the precooked rotisserie shredded chicken from H-E-B because I do not have the patience to poach or roast my own chicken in the middle of the week. By all means, feel free to do so if you are so inclined.
And while we are here, I hope you have a food scale because it really makes kitchen tasks so easy!
Here’s my equation for what I would call perfect chicken salad every time:
For every 3-4 oz. of shredded cooked chicken,
1 Tablespoon Duke’s mayonnaise
1 Tablespoon plain, non-fat Greek yogurt
1/2 Tablespoon Maille Old Style wholegrain mustard
A tablespoon or two of fresh chopped parsley
Quite a few cracks of fresh black pepper and a pinch of salt
You can adapt the measurements depending on the quantity of chicken you’re using. If you like a “drier” chicken salad, add more chicken! But I like to use my little food scale and weigh out my portion, mix up with the dressing, and scoop it onto little gem lettuce leaves for a quick summer lunch :) If I have a busy week, I just multiply the dressing and make a bigger batch. The picture below is 10 oz. chicken and 3x dressing recipe.
One other recipe I’ve been making like crazy is Julia Turshen’s zippy Asparagus & Snap Pea salad. Mitch and I can eat a whole recipe in one serving because it’s just too good. It’s our favorite way to get a whole lot of green on our plate. A note: make sure to dry off your blanched veggies super well so the dressing adheres!
ASPARAGUS AND SNAP PEAS WITH TORN BASIL & PEANUTS
Source: Simply Julia by Julia Turshen
Kosher salt
1 pound asparagus, tough ends discarded and cut into bite-sized pieces
1/2 pound snap peas, stemmed and stringed
1 tablespoon soy sauce
2 teaspoons rice vingear
2 teaspoons toasted sesame oil
1 teaspoon fish sauce
1 teaspoon honey
3 tablespoons dry-roasted, salted peanuts, roughly chopped
1 large handful fresh basil leaves, roughly torn
Bring a large pot of water to a boil and salt it generously. Add asparagus and snap peas and cook until bright green and barely tender, about 1 minute. Drain vegetables in a colander and rinse with cold water to stop them from cooking. Place on a clean kitchen towel to absorb any moisture.
Place soy sauce, rice vinegar, sesame oil, fish sauce, and honey in a large bowl. Whisk well to combine. Add the vegetables, peanuts, and basil and toss well to combine. Season to taste with salt. Serve immediately.
Before You Go
Quick Fourth of July recap:
Flag Cake by Smitten Kitchen was SO GOOD.
Cheesecake Bars with Summer Berries by Smitten Kitchen: ALSO GOOD.
Let me know anything good you eat or read this week in the comments or respond directly to the email. Follow along on Instagram as well for more random photographs of the food I cook: @editorandchef
Happy cooking! XOXO – Allison
*makes note to never send Uber Eats gift card again*
Excited to check out the Jane Austen podcast! And girl, if you swapped out shopping for clothes with ordering takeout--same.