Navel grazing pt. 2: lunch

A friend of mine once said, of the weird and unpalatable-to-Westerners traditional Czech foods like lardy pork and fried cheese -- "It's a starvation culture. Any place that's experienced hunger is going to have a different relationship to food."

That idea struck an unintentionally personal chord in me. In college, I went through a year-long experimental phase of eating no more than 1,000 calories a day. After losing 40 pounds and ending up the spitting image of an Auschwitz internee, my attitude to food had, quite fittingly, begun to resemble that of the Eastern European starvation culture from which I originate. Suddenly, something like chopped raw onion or cabbage was no longer just an ingredient -- with a little seasoning, it could actually function as a meal. More importantly, no scrap of leftover could go to waste. After years of mocking my grandmother and mother for their propensity to polish off foods that had obviously already gone south, I found myself blithely biting into soft, acrid fruit or hunks of stale, mold-speckled bread, all in the name of stubborn starvation-induced frugality.

A rather grim beginning for a lighthearted food blog entry, I realize, but this really does confirm for me that taste is nothing more a mechanistic response to environment and has the ability to get radically rewired. Though I'm fortunately no longer pathological about it, I still find that my attitude to food has a decidedly peasanty aura: when I cook, I like to make big, hearty meals that can get repurposed into creative leftover cuisine, and my favorite dishes tend to be eat-again things like soups, stews, and casseroles. I'm also obsessive about not letting groceries go bad, but actively tailoring my cooking to make use of anything that's in danger of entering expired territory. Lunch is the perfect example of this in action. It's a liminal meal, and as such is forgiving of a bit of derivativeness from the night before. When I cook during the week, my lunches tend to be comprised of dinner leftovers, sometimes hastily refurbished¹, and sometimes as-is hunks of meat, fish, and veggies. On weekends, though, lunchtime is the time for quick and tasty pantry-clearing, ranging from a simple pasta sauce concoction², to the more time-consuming strata or panade³.

At the midpoint of sophistication between these two culinary poles stands the exotic-sounding but actually stupidly easy and rapturously delicious Spanish omelet, otherwise known as frittata. I love frittata. It's the dish I make most frequently, and the thing I could happily eat every day, if the thought of skyrocketing cholesterol didn't give me slight pause. The greatest thing about frittata is that you can put literally anything in it -- and as much or as little of that thing/things as you want -- and it will be filling and tasty and good. All you need is some eggs and cheese, and the rest can be totally improvised. The basic recipe is this: take anywhere from 4 to 8 eggs (I usually use 5 for a 2-person meal), beat them up in a bowl with some seasoning and grated hard cheese of your choice, and throw them in an oven-proof pan along with whatever other ingredients you want to use (cooked veggies, meats, toasted bread cubes, herbs, greens). On medium heat, shovel the mess around the pan until the eggs begin to form curds but are still pretty wet on top (~3-5 min). Top with a generous handful of shredded cheese and pop under a broiler for a few minutes, or until the cheese on top is golden-brown and the omelet has pulled away from the pan. Let cool slightly. Take a moment to appreciate your tremendously privileged, well-fed position in life. Eat.

1 Take: a handful of shredded roast chicken bits, the last of the arugula beginning to wilt and cling to the bottom of the bag, the wedge of cheese that spared my knuckles from being brutalized by the grater. Make pasta, reserve cup of hot cooking water. Put arugula on bottom of large microwave container, finely dice cheese & throw on top of arugula. Pour hot pasta & water on top of greens and cheese, add a pat of butter, chicken & a pinch of preferred herbs & spices. Close container, shake, toss in school bag and waltz out the door.

² The last roasted red pepper and the marinating liquid in the jar (I've since learned to make them yourself: highly recommended) + leftover soy chorizo from Vegetarian Wednesdays (new household tradition) + 3 cloves of garlic, minced + generous dousing of paprika & cayenne + olive oil and a med-heat pan = delicious quick pasta sauce.

³ Technically, this was my dinner last night and as such does not belong in the "lunch" category, but I still love my version of this recipe too much not to share: Take that half a loaf of stale bread you've got lying around your pantry/freezer, leftover cooked veggies (I used marinated & roasted broccoli, red pepper, eggplant, zucchini, and sweet potato), pantry protein of choice (a can of chickpeas), any other deliciousness you might have in reserve (a hunk of leftover polenta), a cup or so of shredded cheese (Parm & aged cheddar), and some stock. Cube bread, drizzle with olive oil, toast. Layer on bottom of 2-quart casserole dish, add layer of veggie filling, layer of cheese, and another layer of bread-filling-cheese. Top with hot stock, bake covered in 350-degree oven for 45 minutes, uncover & bake for another 15, top with more cheese & stick under broiler for another few minutes or so. Let cool 10 min, garnish with a little chopped greenery (basil) and dig in.