An attempt a mediocrity

I have a friend (Rick, in fact) who has recently gotten big on cooking his own meals. He decided to become a vegetarian, buy only local foods, and in general, follow the zeitgeist of the buying/eating organic local foods. Casseroles are a very simple to make, and are convenient for low budget kitchens. That being said, Rick and his housemates make a lot of different dishes that qualify as Casserole, and they're all very good, and ever so simple.  as Yet, too often we here at Kzoo are put off by the Caf's laughable attempts to make palatable versions of even the most straightforward of Casseroles. Now a days when I think of Casserole, I think about tater-tots and all-expenses-paid trips to my suite's bathroom. Nor Censure Nor Disdain should remind us all that we shouldn't laugh at the simple dishes that can end up ugly, and to have  respect for simple dishes that can feed a group of hungry 20 somethings on a budget.

Sesame Chickens Anonymous (revised)

I am a Spice Rice Junkie. I order it at least three times a week,  and rarely deviate from my preferred meal of Sesame chicken with fried rice and crab Rangoon. How sad it is that I am in a Food and Travel class, yet I still haven't managed to face my addiction and try very many other things on the menu. American Chinese food and I have a bizarre relationship. It was my first food addiction, at 11 years old I ha my seminal encounter with the ever popular Kung Pao Chicken. when I was out to dinner with my father and brother at a somewhat upscale Chinese restaurant called Gourmet Garden. That meal is well ingrained in my memory due in very large part to the fact that it was the first social interaction that I had with my father for well over 2 years; needless to say, I remember what I ordered and how it tasted. I had the Ma Ma Lamb and it sucked something fierce. It was too spicy, and had the texture of a broken in baseball mitt. It wasn't a complete loss though: my brother ended up ordering Kung Pao chicken, which was delicious. In fact, it was so delicious that I wholesale abandoned my lamb (my dad wasn't thrilled) and mooched off of my brother. 

From then on, Gourmet Garden became my new obsession. Every time my mother opted to order takeout, I would throw my vote in for Gourmet Garden. Sometimes, I would demand it even when the family already ordered takeout from some other place, just to make a point. I was 11 years old and didn't have any real desires towards females at the point in my life, so I guess I just channeled my prepubescents angst towards Chinese food; I was going to rebel against my family, and their choice in food..
*********************************************************************************

Fast forward a few years, and Gourmet Garden has shut down as well as my obsession with Kung Pao chicken. I am packing my car for K college, and getting ready to start a new chapter in my life. Or something like that.

It's just after 10PM and I am sitting in my room, sad and a little confused. I did everything they told me, but where were the ladies? where were the insane parties? Why was I sitting in my room alone on my first night of college and what was I going to do about it?
 *Ring Ring* "Andres!? Dude, it's Rick, busy?" 

*Looks around his very bland and boring room* "Not really."
*prays that Rick wants to hang out* "You should come over here dude, we're just chilling."
Rick is an old friend from upstate. He was a member at Brookwood (recall one of my earlier pieces on golf, everything is related isn't it?) for a period of time, and he currently employed at Spice Rice and Budda's Belly.
Four and a half hours later, I am sitting in Rick's living room trying to comprehend life, its meaning, free will, and most pressingly, why I am  so hungry. Enter, Sesame Chicken.

I have had two religious experiences in my life. The first one occurred in the back seat of my car on my seventeenth birthday , and the second one occurred the first time that plastic fork disappeared into my cottoned mouth. It really was THAT good. The harmony of the sweet sauce with the saltiness of the chicken, facilitated by the crunchiness of the battered chicken that is juxtaposed with a soggy lair of fried rice has haunted my dreams and waking hours too many times to count. I am perfectly aware of the fact that I was very stoned the first time I had Sesame Chicken, but I don't think that it had much to do with why I liked it so much. The first few weeks of college were kind of lame because I really didn't know anybody, so hanging out with Rick that night was already going to stick out in my mind; why not Sesame Chicken as well? That being said, I have thought long and hard to find some other reasons for why I am so taken with Sesame Chicken. I have recently come to decide that my lifestyle dictates that I have some kind of go-to shot. I need to have something that I go back to time and time again/ When I first had Sesame Chicken, I was just an awkward high-schooler in a college boy's body. Perhaps in my mind, Rick and his chicken were the first sign that I wasn't at home anymore: college was happening before my very taste buds. since I first tasted Spice Rice, I've ordered it at least 3 times a week, and I never get tired of it, ever. The way I see it, it's chicken, rice, and fish (the crab isn't real), which is about as bad as I would do at the Caf. Rick tells me that the chicken is some of the best chicken I can find in the area, so I'm optimistic about having a heart attack.

**********************************************************************************
I've also spread my addictions to my close friends; what's the point of burning in culinary hell alone? It helps keep the costs down, and it means that sometimes I can order it without my "tired" ass off the couch at 3 am. An order of Sesame Chicken comes with a pint of friend rice and two crab Ragoon, and will run you about $9.87 plus tip. That's usually enough food to feed two people fairly comfortably, but an extra order of crab Rangoon is another $4 and will make the meal even better.
Above all the money saving and buck passing, I take the most pleasure in the pause my friends and I take when we pose ourselves with the age old question "what should we order?" In my mind, I see a quick film reel of late night drunken tree climbing, or daytime "cruises" through the surrounding neighborhoods before I tell myself fuck it, and respond "Spice Rice?"

Food+Golf

Chapter: Where Cooks Come from. If any of you fine people have spent any time around a golf course (especially private ones) you may have at some point noticed somebody of Mexican decent doing something: watching the pro shop, playing golf, or mowing the greens. That is a fact. I've been a member of Brookwood golf course for my entire life and we've always had the same group of Mexican workers tending to the course. I guess the parallel I'm drawing here is the inter-connectivity between golf courses and the same for the food world. I have watched my golf pro have a conversation with our superintendent that went more or less how Bordain describes finding a soue chef.
Kevin (golf pro): "Hey Raul, Javier (I am not making these names up) is out sick today and we need to cut the greens before the Invitational, do you know anybody?"
Raul: "Let me ask my cousin."
Golf brings people together like food. People like to eat together, people like to play golf together. People like to with their families and friends, people like to go hit a bucket of balls together with families and friends. People grow up working at a golf shop or course, some people grow up in a kitchen. The things that bring us together are often times inherited from our parents or our cultures. It's hot and flat in mexico. There's no snow in Mexico. If you build it they will golf. I've played golf with 7 different greenskeepers at a time. They ALL new each other, they ALL grew up around the same areas in Mexico, and they ALL knew other friends and family members who worked on other golf courses. I am not making this up.
I recall a late night of golf I played with the very same Raul and Javier. Both of these men redefine bad ass. They are scrappy, competitive golfers who smoke, drink, hoot, holler, and talk a lot of shit while they play. Raul and Javier played 9 holes after work every night, and they always played for the same thing: a bottle of tequila. Sometimes fact is more amusing than fiction.

Here you go folks, Enjoy my brain-vomit.

I opted to post this article about hot chocolate because it demonstrates food's (other things can too of course) ability to transcend history and meaning. To most people hot chocolate is just that, hot chocolate. For me, when I see hot chocolate I can't help but associate it with the Aztecs and the Mayans; and now we find out that it's even older than THAT? I may never be able to enjoy a cup of hot chocolate without thinking about Spanish imperialism and the Latin American history class that I took as a junior in high school.
Can Food and Travel think of some other kinds of food items that might transcend their normal Platonic existance of just "food"? I'll throw you guys (and gals) a couple of ideas to get the juices flowing.
Turkey. Thanksgiving wouldn't be the same without it. My family also makes a Christmas turkey and an Easter turkey. Another interesting fact is that Ben Franklin suggested that we adopt the turkey as the national bird instead of the Bald Eagle.
Necco. For me at least. These incredibly popular Sweet Tart-ish candies were a favorite amongst GI's during WW2 because they never went bad since they were made more or less of totally synthetic ingredients.
Wine and the Wafer. If you need an explanation then I suggest you repeat high school.
Omelette's. I can't even cook my own with comparing it to Robert's. Nuff said.

I chose my own adventure.

I wanted to do something about hot chocolate because it has a fascinating history. It turns out hot chocolate is a lot older than I assumed. Happy reading.

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-493335/Chocolate-invented-3-100-years-ago-Aztecs--trying-make-beer.html