You are what you eat

I really hate cooking.  For those of you know me, you know I wouldn’t mind eating out for the rest of my life (really).  The act of cooking and then cleaning up has always seemed like a chore, just another thing to put on the domestic task list that goes on ad infinitum, and the results of my cooking ventures have never been … gratifying or palatable to me (or those who have to consume them).  Just ask Matias.  I usually don’t even put lettuce in my salad because I hate to take the time to wash it and rip it up. 

But, while I was in New York, I picked up a copy of Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver.  It’s about her and her family’s commitment to farm and eat ‘locally.’  They are so committed they move from Tucson to a farm in Appalachia to grow their own food for a year.  At first I was doubtful, I mean she’s a successful (and probably rich!) writer, so she must have time to cook and farm.  That has always been my biggest setback with cooking.  I’m tired when I get home from work, and feel like I have to rush through it all to do more important things, like spend time with the kids reading books, playing outside, or doing homework.  

And the whole local thing.  I wonder what she would have thought about my trip to Target.  I don’t think anything I bought there was made in Brooklyn, or even the U.S.  I can get into the local thing and think it’s important, but now that I’m in Mozambique, it’s a whole different ball game than going local in Southern Virginia or Bainbridge Island!  I started to imagine what it would be like to eat locally here in Maputo.  We’d have to subsist on corn flour, tomatoes, kale, spinach, mangoes, guavas, beans and fish. Most Mozambicans do, which is probably why most are not overweight.  Or could I classify South Africa as local? It’s another country, but only 80 miles away.  In her book, one farmer’s definition of local is a one hour drive, so if I drove really fast to South Africa (and didn’t count border crossing time), it would be local, right?  Almost anything packaged in a grocery store here comes from South Africa (or farther).  Milk, juice, crackers, chips, jelly all from S.A.  Canned beans, mushrooms, corn from Portugal.  Cookies from Colombia, Turkey, or one time I bought them from Oman.  I don’t even know where Oman is.  Cake mix from Brazil.  And frozen chicken also from Brazil. 

Let’s pause a moment to think about that chicken from Brazil.  Barbara Kingsolver is right about all the fossils fuels that are spent to transport these food products over long distances.  Can you imagine all the energy expended to get that chicken from Brazil to Mozambique (and keep it frozen along the way) when there are so many chickens (though usually live!) right here?  It’s really staggering.  I made a commitment to buy Mozambican products a long time ago, but most are in their raw form, and need lots of time for preparation.  And my hang up was, of course, that I see cooking as a chore, such a drag, and always rush through it instead of enjoying it. 

But Sunday night I read the next chapter, and it was written just for all of us who think we don’t have time.  In American culture, a lot of us grew up with the idea that spending time in the kitchen cooking is something just to get done so you could do other more important things.  She talks about how American women in our generation were taught they should have careers, make money, all to get out of slaving in the kitchen.  But what happened is that we got a double whammy.  We got what we wanted, but still do most of the household tasks.  And this was an opportunity for the multinationals to try to convince and coerce us into thinking we needed all the shortcuts and processed foods in order to alleviate our burden.  Hence, all the Lunchables and readymade TJ’s meatballs, Stouffers enchiladas.  However, as she rightly says, cooking is a family affair, something everyone can participate and engage in.  It doesn’t have to be a single woman slaving and sweating over it.  Cooking can bring people and families together.  Some of us sit down at the dinner table, but we should start earlier, together in the kitchen. 

So, last night, even though I got home from work at 6pm, I decided to try it.  Nalia wanted pizza.  At first I thought, how am I going to make the crust if I don’t get home until 6? But there’s Matias, and he’s a pro at making at bread, so I asked him to do it.  Nalia grated the cheese.  I made the sauce from fresh Mozambican tomatoes, and cut up mushrooms (from South Africa), green peppers, pepperoni, and olives for the toppings.  And it was happy and fun.  The kids were in the kitchen dancing and playing with the puppy.  Elio was chirping out ‘Hey soul sista, hey mista mista, on the radio, stereo…’  where does he get this stuff?  Matias was patiently rolling the crust so it was perfectly even. I was trying to ENJOY it and not to get hung up on the fact that Nalia spilled flour all over the floor and the cat’s head, who with her black fur looked like she’d been through a Mozambican snowstorm.  And in the end, it turned out to be some of the most delicious pizza we’ve ever had.  Elio asked for seconds, which is something to write home about, and Nalia asked to save some to eat the next day. 

Afterward, Nalia and I were talking about how we all participated and worked together.  I said, ‘You grated the cheese and helped roll the crust.  Daddy made the crust.  I made the sauce and cut up the vegetables for the toppings.’ 

‘And Elio?’ she asked.

‘Elio took the tomatoes out of the refrigerator and washed them.’

Not bad for a three year old.

Recipe for Pizza

For the crust, mix equal parts whole wheat and white flour (about 1 ½ cups each for 2, 12-inch pizzas), add yeast and warm water according to yeast package instructions.  Knead and let rise in a bowl covered with a towel about 45 minutes (we put it the cold oven to avoid drafts).  Remove and knead again, adding extra flour if the dough is sticky, then roll out on a heavily floured surface with a rolling pin.  Put on a floured pizza pan or stone. 

For the sauce, boil water and put in 7 tomatoes for one minute.  Take them out after one minute and plunge in cold water.  Then remove skins and cut in small pieces.  Put in a sauce pan and simmer for a long time (about 40 minutes is usually good enough, but the longer the better).  Mix with oregano, basil, salt, pepper and a little sugar if the tomatoes taste too acidic.  In summertime, use sliced tomatoes on top of the cheese for a shortcut!

While the sauce is simmering, cut up the toppings and grate the cheese.

Cover the crust with sauce, cheese, and then toppings.   

Bake in preheated oven for 20 minutes at 425 F

Also, because Deviled eggs are a wonderful easy treat that everyone likes, but no one like to admit they like, here’s a nice recipe that works anywhere.

Deviled Eggs

INGREDIENTS

6 hard cooked eggs                                         ½ tsp dill weed

¼ cup mayonnaise                                           ¼ tsp garlic powder or one clove fresh garlic, minced finely

1tsp white wine vinegar                                  1/8 tsp salt

1 tsp Dijon mustard                                         Fresh dill

Slice eggs in half lengthwise; remove yolks and set whites aside.  In a small bowl, mash yolks.  Add the mayonnaise, vinegar, mustard, dill, garlic powder and salt.

Spoon into egg whites.  Garnish with dill sprigs… or I use paprika.