I recently passed my forty-first year upon this planet, a milestone which only further fits me in the category of middle-age. I long ago have given up on caring about being "cool", dressing fashionably, or having to see movies on opening night. These are all things which I graciously have given up in order to have a more comfortable life.

Other things I have given up without realizing it. There is a quote out there, not mine, that goes "You know you're a grown-up when you can afford to buy hundreds of dollars of candy, and you don't." When did that happen? When did the culinary joys of childhood disappear?

My guess is that it happened once my body said "Y'know, this chocolate covered marshmallow, while mind-blowingly good, is not quite as awesome as the subtle nuttiness of this slice of gouda. At some point my palate developed the ability to discern nuance, and my days of downing a bottle of Faygo and consuming a Nestle's Crunch, and calling that a snack, were over. The thick oozing colored corn syrup found in the wax bottles, once a treat, were and are now an obscenity. The joy of being able to have enough allowance to afford a Hostess Fruit Pie has now turned to a revulsion of this brand. The day when I stopped wanting to have Pixie Stix is the day my childhood ended.

I'm not the only one who realizes this. Joe Posnanski puts it a little more directly in his post Pixifoods:

Pink Snowballs
As a child tastes like: Coconut cream filled pink cakes.
As an adult tastes like: Triple bypass surgery.
Tidbits: I remember working with an older guy in Augusta who loved Pink Snowballs. He would get one out of the vending machine every single day. I was 24 then, and already the concept seemed entirely disgusting. I think that Pink Snowballs were my first pixiefood, the first food that I devoured as a child that I thought, “OK, I’ve outgrown that.”

When his post made it to Metafilter yesterday, it immediately had an impact, with people equal parts lamenting their own lost foods, claiming something on Joe's list shouldn't be there, or saying that every food of childhood remains quite awesome.

I would like to think that I represent the last group. But I know better. As much as I loved them, breakfast cereals are a novelty now, when, thirty years ago, they were a staple. It's been years since I've stopped at a Dairy Queen, once home to all things nirvana. And most disturbingly, I find myself loathing both the chocolate and the company that goes by the name Hershey. This would have been unthinkable in my youth.

However, I now have a favorite wine, can pick out a decent whiskey, know where to find great oysters, can make a decent steak, and have had Italian meals that would make Mario Batali weep like an evangelical being told they were destined to the promised land.

In my mind, that's a fair trade off.

Teff

In Ethiopian, teff means "lost", ostensibly due to its dirt-like appearance; drop it on the ground and you can't find it. It is one of the smallest grains in the world -- 150 teff grains weigh as much as 1 grain of wheat (or, 7 grains will fit on the head of a pin).

Despite its small size, teff is a nutritional powerhouse composed of 11% protein, 80% complex carbohydrate, and 3% fat that delivers high levels of calcium, phosphorous, iron, copper, aluminum, barium, thiamine, and all of the essential amino acids in easily absorbed forms. Whew! Plus, there is no gluten in this grain, so teff flour is great for those with gluten allergies.

As you can see, there are many wonderful reasons to give this interesting and little-known grain a trial run in your kitchen!

History

Teff is thought to originate in Ethiopia between 4000 and 1000 B.C., although some sources dispute that it may have arrived there previously from the Middle East. Its seeds have been found in the Dassur Pyramid of Egypt and are thought to date to 3359 B.C. Even today, this ancient grain accounts for about one-quarter of the grain production in Ethiopia and it is considered a staple food.

In the United States, the introduction of teff rests on the shoulders of one man, Wayne Carlson. During the 1970's, while working in Ethiopia to study tropical diseases, he became interested in teff's nutritional properties. He returned with seeds and in the early 1980s experimented with teff on a farm in western Idaho. Teff grew so well in this area, and there was such a growing domestic demand, that Carlson formed The Teff Company.

Uses & Recipes

Teff is perhaps most famous for its use in making Ethiopian injera flat bread, of which I have absolutely no experience. I searched the internet for the most complete explanation of the process and found this excellent blog entry:

burakaeyae.blogspot.com - Step by Step Injera Instructions

Heather has spent time in Ethiopia and seems to know what she is doing. There are even videos so that dummies like me can understand. Thanks, Heather!

Other ideas for teff can be found on the following pages.

The Teff Company - Recipes (look in the right-side column)

Bob's Red Mill - Teff Flour (scroll down to "Related Recipes")

I don't have a personal photo this week because I was unable to find pure teff grain at a local store. In its place, I found this beautiful photo of a traditional Ethiopian meal. You can see that all of the food is placed on top of the injera flat bread, and pieces of the bread are used to scoop the food -- no utensils needed. Thanks to Flickr user LollyKnit for this one.

See you next week!

. . . . .

Now Playing: Meat Is Murder by The Smiths. It's a coincidence, I promise!

My uncle used to brag, "I've never had a failure with blueberry pie!"

Although he'd never actually attempted one, he basked in this one culinary victory.

I love blueberries, but I'd rather eat them plain than in pie. What other berry can you munch like Skittles but without the guilt? Raspberries don't burst, strawberries are too big, cranberries are too tart and blackberries have too many seeds.

While I won't go so far as to say blueberries are better than chocolate, they are just as versatile. They add a dot of color to pancakes, turn plain cupcakes fancy and can even be used in savory meat sauces. Being loaded with vitamins and antioxidants is a mere bonus.

Like my uncle, I've never had a failure with blueberry pie, but will confess to one spectacular crockpot failure we dubbed Blueberry Goo.

If you can't resist the urge to cook, my blueberry goo fiasco includes a very successful lemon and blueberry muffin recipe. But I think these seasonal beauties are best enjoyed in all their natural glory -- with a dollop of slightly sweetened whipped cream if you must. As long as the berries are fresh and ripe, you can't go wrong.

Calcium is a taste now?

...assuming the human palate can detect calcium, what does the mineral taste like?

"Calcium tastes calcium-y," Tordoff said. "There isn't a better word for it. It is bitter, perhaps even a little sour. But it's much more because there are actual receptors for calcium, not just bitter or sour compounds."

One way we might regularly perceive calcium is when it comes to minute levels found in drinking water.

"In tap water, it's fairly pleasant," Tordoff said. "But at levels much above that, the taste becomes increasingly bad."

Hmmm...I wonder if magnesium or iron have their own taste as well. I mean, as long as we're quantifying tastes in minerals, why not go for the entire table of elements? Perhaps we can expect a new cuisine based on mining. One could pan for calcium by swirling bits of milks and kale on a tin plate!

My favorite headline from news articles comes from Boston.com: Umami is so yesterday.

In all seriousness, I'm not really sure what to make of this. I can't, at the moment, recall any food that made me go: "Hmmm...bitter and sour don't seem descriptive enough to express what I am tasting."

*shrug* Perhaps that'll change.

I have an admission to make. Until yesterday, I had never made my own pasta. Not once. I suspect a fair amount of your readers out there are in the same boat. Pasta is a fairly cheap product that doesn't require an investment of one hour plus to make. Place into boiling water and wait between seven to fifteen minutes, depending upon what kind of pasta you're boiling.

Now the second admission. I love, love, LOVE homemade pasta. The best reason I can give you is that it tastes like...well...bread. A subtle, bread-like taste to be sure, but it is a flavor that is missing from a great majority of store bought pastas.

Here's the basic recipe from Joy of Cooking.

• 3 1/4 cup Semolina Flour
• 5 eggs
• 1 tsp. kosher salt

The basic premise here to to mix the flour, salt, and eggs together, and then continue mixing it until the gluten allows to form, creating a cohesive, near elastic, type of dough. This will take a lot of work. The cookbook recommends ten minutes, I added another five minutes on top of that. Then I worked the dough some more as I made lasagna noodles (which I'll talk about in a post later in the week).

Divide the dough into four quarters, wrap in plastic wrap, and store in the refrigerator or freezer until needed for use.

That's it. This is the base recipe from which one can do other things. For example, I have some remaining squid ink which would add interesting flavors and color to the pasta. Some people have been known to add pureed spinach, or sundried tomatoes. But none of these can be accomplished without this base.

After all of the feedback on my post on American eating habits last week, I figured it was only fair to play Devil's advocate for a bit to support American food.

I swear, I'm not as anti-American as I may have come off. True, I love my new home and everything about it (including the food), but there are things about American food that I definitely miss. Off the top of my head, Kraft Dinner, Cape Cod potato chips, Wheat Thins and 24-hour diners come to mind, as well as spicy food that is actually spicy and Thai delivery.

It doesn't surprise me that there are things about American food culture that I miss (and yes, I did just say "American food culture." I suppose I was a bit harsh last week... even if I don't agree with all of our food decisions, America definitely has a food culture of its own that cannot be reproduced anywhere else. Especially not by Buffalo Grill.)

I was reminded recently of all of the American culinary delights that are regional, and that I therefore don't think of off the top of the bat: chili, Southern fried chicken, barbecue, New England clam chowder... Being a New Yorker spoils me for amazing restaurants, but living in a melting pot metropolis also makes it hard to remember all of the aspects of American culture that I don't see on a regular basis.

What is surprising, however, is how comparatively well American food is received here in the land of gourmet cooking and foie gras. I never would have expected, for example, that gas station doughnuts covered in questionable "chocolate" coating are a pretty well-received American import. Peanut butter has a bad name unless it appears to be a Dutch import instead of one from the big-bad-States; then it's a breakfast favorite for "tartines," the French word for what is, essentially, an open-faced sandwich.

I have to say that the most surprising American import is Starbucks. With a coffee culture rivaled by few European countries (Italy, definitely, Portugal: maybe), I was completely shocked to learn that, for some reason, Frappuccinos have gone over well with certain Parisians (Alex included).

How bizarre.

Okay, time to confess. Is there one meal that you like forward to ahead of all others?

I believe I've said this before, but I'll repeat it - I'm a fan of brunch. It doesn't matter if the restaurant has a cliched menu for the meal, or if they go out of their way to create new and unique dishes for their customers. It also doesn't matter if the place is a greasy spoon that offers only omelets and burgers, or a forty dollar buffet that offers everything from fritatas to oysters. I will go to brunch regardless of time, location, or expense. The only thing that prevents me from going would be whether I was watching my waistline that particular week.

Why the preference to this one meal that traditionally only occurs on the weekend? My suspicion is that it's only time when American's are encouraged to dawdle at the table. To me, it is the one meal in which people are allowed to sit and enjoy themselves. I have no evidence to back up this claim, merely a suspicion.

So, what is your favorite meal? Vote in the left column and tell us why in the comments of this here post.

Back in my party girl days (a reputation that was both earned and overblown; I was a saint compared to most of my friends), people were shocked to hear that I had a domestic side. “What? You like to cook? I thought you lived on French fries and beer.” While my love of both is well known and definitely not overblown, (and there have been times when it sure as hell seemed as though I was living on French fries and beer … usually after a break-up), cooking has always been a huge part of my life.

I don’t recall my mother actively teaching me how to cook. When she cooked, she cooked alone. It was more me deciding to watch and learn, coupled with the detailed notes she would leave on the refrigerator before she left for work, explaining what we had to do to get dinner started. (After learning how to decipher those notes, I could probably teach myself Russian. Her handwriting was awful.)

My mother was never a gourmet cook. She is, after all, Sicilian, and most of what she made for us was food she ate as a kid. It was peasant food. The popularity of nouvelle cuisine in the 80s made her roll her eyes. To this day, she insists that she likes her vegetables cooked to death. This could just be an undying belief in the old way to cook. (It’s just as likely to be orneriness on her part.) I have, perhaps unfortunately, inherited some of that orneriness. I’ve been known to roll my eyes at some of the sillier trends that pop up.

As is obvious to anyone who reads my posts here, what I learned from my mother informs much of how I cook. What really stuck with me is a preference to cook alone. The kitchen is the one place I’m a complete control freak. You know those articles in Bon Appetit and Gourmet that recommend giving everyone at your dinner party a glass of wine and a task to help you prepare dinner? The ones with the pictures of a dozen people having the time of their lives while they chop and mix and saute? That’s a version of hell to me. All I’d need is an endless loop of Celine Dion music and I might have an aneurysm. One, because I’m almost pathologically particular about how my food is prepped; and two, because I’m not going to invite my friends for dinner and then make them cook it themselves.

The kitchen is my domain, as it was my mother’s. She probably let us cook only because she had to. She wasn’t always a patient cook, and she was an unconventional mother, to say the least. But I hope she got some solace in the kitchen. I like to think cooking was a joy for her. She certainly seemed to love it, even though she proclaimed every meal she’s ever made to be dry and tasteless. But that doesn’t matter. I lay both my knowledge and my love of cooking at her feet.

I've been thinking about what it means to be a snob, trying to come up with an adequate definition. People often joke about being a snob, but the truth is that most people are not.

Part of the problem is that people mistake being particular for being snobby. Being particular means being hard to please, mostly because whomever is being particular has some standards that they wish to be met. It doesn't matter if these standards on any personal preference (No margarine for me thanks") or some moral code (No meat for me thanks!), these are not actions of one being a snob, but one based in reason.

Snobbery is disguised as reason, but works with an additional set of rules. Not only is there a choice based on some set of standards, but being a snob also comes with a sense of superiority based off of those standards. This superiority allows them to look upon those who don't share their beliefs as "less". Whether it's "less intelligent", "less cultured", "less moral", it doesn't matter. A snob is one who uses their standards to place themselves as being better than others.

The food world is rife with these sorts of folks, and often thrives because of them.

So, if this is an acceptable definition, who would be a food snob? From my own perspective, I endeavor never to denigrate individual choices, but I have no problem in criticizing institutions. However, I can see where people would think that this would be a snob-like behavior, especially if they are emotionally invested in whatever institution that I'm writing about.

Would you consider yourself a snob? Or do you think that my definition needs some work?

Uh oh... This can't be good.

Robin Goldstein created a fake restaurant with a fake menu, and submitted it to the Wine Spectator awards committee.

...and she won the Award of Excellence.

As part of the research for an academic paper I’m currently working on about standards for wine awards, I submitted an application for a Wine Spectator Award of Excellence. I named the restaurant “Osteria L’Intrepido” (a play on the name of a restaurant guide series that I founded, Fearless Critic). I submitted the fee ($250), a cover letter, a copy of the restaurant’s menu (a fun amalgamation of somewhat bumbling nouvelle-Italian recipes), and a wine list.

Osteria L’Intrepido won the Award of Excellence, as published in print in the August 2008 issue of Wine Spectator.

It’s troubling, of course, that a restaurant that doesn’t exist could win an Award of Excellence.

That's a bit of an understatement.

h/t to Jason.