The Sushi Experiment
I went to the grocery store to pick up a newspaper. L and I were hungry, so we browsed a few aisles. I snagged some shrimp for the Hubby-Man and looked in the other cooler for some fresh tuna. (my favorite) There were no happy tuna steaks, but there was prepackaged sushi. My brain said "Ewwwww" but my tummy said "Yes!"
I know people who have eaten prepackaged sushi and lived to tell about it. I know it can be done. But this stuff looked... prepackaged, to say the least. What I saw was a plastic tray with 8 rice squares and some packets of stuff that wasn't ketchup. The packaging read, "Fresh Gourmet Sushi" and along the side was, "With Wasabi!" As if wasabi was some sort of limited-time bonus product.
It gets worse.
Lets look at the "sushi" again. Each rice square was holding a circle of stuff. The tray labeled "california rolls" had a piece of artificial crab meat, a bit of what I assumed was avocado, and some green leathery-looking stuff (exactly the same shade as the avocado), surrounded by seaweed, which was surrounded by the square of rice. And the rice had toasted sesames decorating it's outside edge.
Another tray held "spicy crab sushi". This was the leathery green stuff and what looked like pink crab cakes, surrounded by the rice cube.
Dubious but desperate, I bought them both. Once at home, I began the experiment. Each tray held three condiment packages. Soy sauce, wasabi paste and ginger. I opened the packet of wasabi and squeezed it out. It was exactly the same shade as the avocado. I dabbed my finger in it and tasted. The wasabi was tasteless. It did wake up my sinuses, but taste-wise it was bland. I added all the soy sauce in an attempt to give it some flavor. The ginger was in a liquid. Sampling it showed the liquid was sugar water. Hmmm.
On to the sushi! I tried the spicy crab first. It wasn't very spicy. The sticky rice was ok, but a bit chalky. The pink crab stuffing was decent. The green stuff was wet, crunchy and without taste. I smothered it all in my wasabi/soy sauce mix. I offered some to L, and he surprised me by taking one. He liked the rice. He liked the crab. He spit out the green stuff and the seaweed.
This looks like a good place to discuss the seaweed. It was ultra-thin and falling apart. I decided it wasn't really seaweed, but some sort of black dye that had been airbrushed onto the rice square.
I gave my son the rest of the (not so) spicy crab, and opened the california rolls. They must have been older than the crab, because the rice was stiff and cakey, not tender like it should be. After the first one, I amused myself by trying to removing the rice from the airbrushed-on seaweed in one piece. After a few attempts, I just started pushing the crab/green stuff/avocado mix through the rice and into the wasabi. I then put the mix atop the remaining spicy crab squares, and ate it that way.
After finishing the "sushi", I summoned up the courage to read the ingredients. The sticky rice was saturated with high fructose corn syrup and corn starch. "Well, that explains the stiffness." I thought. The black dye was actually seaweed, surprise, surprise. The green leathery stuff was -brace yourself-
green beans
Lords, Gods and Minor Deities! green beans!
No wonder L spit them out.
Showing posts with label You Are What You Eat. Show all posts
Showing posts with label You Are What You Eat. Show all posts
Wednesday, December 10, 2003
Friday, October 10, 2003
Huh. I
was going to bitch about my heart and the weird freaky dreams I had last night. It all clicked into place, tho. My heart has been acting up since I bought the last batch of Millstone coffee. Perhaps their quality has dropped. Perhaps they're using a new pesticide on their bushes.
Ok. I'll rant about pesticide in coffee instead! Everyone knows that coffee contains caffiene. Not everyone knows (or cares) why. Caffiene is a natural pesticide. It's the plant's defense against bugs and small animals. It works well enough. So why do most coffee growers use pesticides? Because big corporations told them they should.
was going to bitch about my heart and the weird freaky dreams I had last night. It all clicked into place, tho. My heart has been acting up since I bought the last batch of Millstone coffee. Perhaps their quality has dropped. Perhaps they're using a new pesticide on their bushes.
Ok. I'll rant about pesticide in coffee instead! Everyone knows that coffee contains caffiene. Not everyone knows (or cares) why. Caffiene is a natural pesticide. It's the plant's defense against bugs and small animals. It works well enough. So why do most coffee growers use pesticides? Because big corporations told them they should.
Thursday, October 09, 2003
Why I hate Spaghetti
Every Sunday, we had dinner with Grandma and Grandpa. Grandpa was born in Sicily, at the turn of the last Century. "Old Fashioned" doesn't even begin to describe him. He served in both World Wars, and was married twice. His first wife died in childbirth. Their son was stillborn. Grandma took cooking lessons from an old Sicilian woman, so she could prepare foods from his homeland. Every other day, she served Italian food, and Sunday was always spaghetti day. I ate spaghetti once a week for 13 years. I will never eat it again.
She would vary the meat to go with the spaghetti. One week we'd cut up 3-5 whole chickens, the next she'd make meatballs. When I was small, I shredded lettuce for the salad. As I grew, I progressed to cutting veggies, skinning tomatoes, and finally, butchering chickens. I'll never forget the day I cut up my first chicken. Grandpa had passed away by this time, so we were only disecting 4 birds. Aunt Petrina told Grandma I was old enough to help cut. They had a little argument, and then Petrina put a nice sharp butcher knife in my 9 year old hands.
I was delighted, but frightened at the same time. I'd seen how cleanly the knife sliced through the chicken. I'd seen how easily it went through the joint between the leg and thigh. And I'd seen numerous Aunts say, "Damn!" and rush off to bandage their hand, because the knife had slipped.
Petrina broke the shoulders of a chicken carcass and showed me where to start. I carefully cut out the wishbone, trying so hard not to crack it prematurely. I succeeded, only to break it as I tried to dislodge it from the breastbone. Petrina told me not to worry. It wasn't my fault. It was a "weak chicken". She said I'd probably need help with the legs too.
Doing the breasts and back were easy. The butcher knife slid right through the rib and back bones. It was easier than cutting cold butter. The legs, however, were a different matter. By the time I had gotten to that point, all the other chickens were done, and all 5 of my uncles were crowded in the doorway to the kitchen, silently watching. I bent the "knee" of the bird over the knife blade, gave a good tug upwards and pop!, I had separated a leg from a thigh. Filled with triumph, I sliced off the other leg and went after the thigh.
If you've never cut up a chicken, let me tell you, there's a trick to removing the thighs. A trick which I didn't know at 9 years of age. You have to break the joint first. The knife wouldn't separate the joint. It slipped to one side, or slid to the other, and would not cut where it was supposed to. So, I sat at the kitchen table stubbornly sawing through the thigh bone. This stupid bird was not going to defeat me! I was totally engrossed in my work, and I didn't hear the smothered giggles of my Uncles at first. Aunt Petrina heard them, however; and she came to my rescue.
She said, "There's a faster way, honey." and picked up the chicken by the thighs. She held it up and gave a quick jerk with both hands, cleanly dislocating the joints. Well, dislocating the joint I hadn't been sawing away at, anyway. What was left of the other one wouldn't pop. I had mutiliated it too badly. She taught me how to wedge the knife between the joints properly, and press down to cut through it. About this time, Mom and J finished the salad and came to see what everyone was looking at. She screamed when she saw her "baby" had a butcher knife, and totally missed seeing me cut the last of the chicken. I triumphantly added the thigh to the pile on the table, just as Mom laid into Petrina for letting me grow up a bit.
That night, someone made sure I got the sorry, mutilated thigh for dinner.
Every Sunday, we had dinner with Grandma and Grandpa. Grandpa was born in Sicily, at the turn of the last Century. "Old Fashioned" doesn't even begin to describe him. He served in both World Wars, and was married twice. His first wife died in childbirth. Their son was stillborn. Grandma took cooking lessons from an old Sicilian woman, so she could prepare foods from his homeland. Every other day, she served Italian food, and Sunday was always spaghetti day. I ate spaghetti once a week for 13 years. I will never eat it again.
She would vary the meat to go with the spaghetti. One week we'd cut up 3-5 whole chickens, the next she'd make meatballs. When I was small, I shredded lettuce for the salad. As I grew, I progressed to cutting veggies, skinning tomatoes, and finally, butchering chickens. I'll never forget the day I cut up my first chicken. Grandpa had passed away by this time, so we were only disecting 4 birds. Aunt Petrina told Grandma I was old enough to help cut. They had a little argument, and then Petrina put a nice sharp butcher knife in my 9 year old hands.
I was delighted, but frightened at the same time. I'd seen how cleanly the knife sliced through the chicken. I'd seen how easily it went through the joint between the leg and thigh. And I'd seen numerous Aunts say, "Damn!" and rush off to bandage their hand, because the knife had slipped.
Petrina broke the shoulders of a chicken carcass and showed me where to start. I carefully cut out the wishbone, trying so hard not to crack it prematurely. I succeeded, only to break it as I tried to dislodge it from the breastbone. Petrina told me not to worry. It wasn't my fault. It was a "weak chicken". She said I'd probably need help with the legs too.
Doing the breasts and back were easy. The butcher knife slid right through the rib and back bones. It was easier than cutting cold butter. The legs, however, were a different matter. By the time I had gotten to that point, all the other chickens were done, and all 5 of my uncles were crowded in the doorway to the kitchen, silently watching. I bent the "knee" of the bird over the knife blade, gave a good tug upwards and pop!, I had separated a leg from a thigh. Filled with triumph, I sliced off the other leg and went after the thigh.
If you've never cut up a chicken, let me tell you, there's a trick to removing the thighs. A trick which I didn't know at 9 years of age. You have to break the joint first. The knife wouldn't separate the joint. It slipped to one side, or slid to the other, and would not cut where it was supposed to. So, I sat at the kitchen table stubbornly sawing through the thigh bone. This stupid bird was not going to defeat me! I was totally engrossed in my work, and I didn't hear the smothered giggles of my Uncles at first. Aunt Petrina heard them, however; and she came to my rescue.
She said, "There's a faster way, honey." and picked up the chicken by the thighs. She held it up and gave a quick jerk with both hands, cleanly dislocating the joints. Well, dislocating the joint I hadn't been sawing away at, anyway. What was left of the other one wouldn't pop. I had mutiliated it too badly. She taught me how to wedge the knife between the joints properly, and press down to cut through it. About this time, Mom and J finished the salad and came to see what everyone was looking at. She screamed when she saw her "baby" had a butcher knife, and totally missed seeing me cut the last of the chicken. I triumphantly added the thigh to the pile on the table, just as Mom laid into Petrina for letting me grow up a bit.
That night, someone made sure I got the sorry, mutilated thigh for dinner.
Random entry of the day
The recipie for my Grandmother's geniune Sicilian Meatballs:
I watched my grandma make these every other sunday for 7 years, longer if you count the years I was too young to pay attention. At the height of her family growth, she made meatballs for 14 people, and there were always leftovers. Feel free to substitute beef for turkey or soy, eggs for fake, joyless, egg substitute, etc. It's your tastebuds!
What you'll need:
For every 2 lbs ground beef
use 3 large eggs
1 cup italian style breadcrumbs (cheaters) plus a bit of garlic, oregano and salt
or approx. 1 cup breadcrumbs, 3 tablespoons dry parsley, 2 tablespoons powdered garlic, 2 tablespoons oregano, 1 to 1 1/2 teaspoons salt, and a tablespoon of basil. do not overdo the basil, you'll have plenty in the sauce, and the meatballs should be earthy, not sweet.)
and a big pot of spaghetti sauce.
Combine all dry ingredients and set aside.
Mix the meat and eggs thoroughly. It will end up looking like very slimy meat. Don't worry. That's what the dry stuff is for.
Add your breadcrumb mixture to the meat, and knead it in.
When everything is mixed, start pulling off 2-3 inch chunks and rolling them into balls. Works best with 2 or more people. One to roll and one to cook.
When you have about a quarter pound of meatballs, put them in a hot skillet.
. . . .(There's 2 ways to do this. Grandma put them in her big cast iron skillet with a lot of grease and fried the hell outta the buggers. My hubby and I use a dash of olive oil for the first batch and constantly rotate the pan. Grandma's would come out rather square and burned on one side. Ours come out round and evenly cooked, but it's more work.)
Brown the meatballs in quarter pound batches, then add them to your sauce. Small batches make it easier to drain off excess grease.
When all meatballs are browned and added to the sauce, cover the pot and let it simmer at least an hour. (Grandma's minimum was 3 hours. You could smell them all day...sigh)
The purpose in the long simmer time is to let the beefy/spicy flavors seep into the sauce, and to ensure the meatballs are thoroughly cooked. It has the added benefit of making everyone hungry enough to eat spaghetti (yuck)
The recipie for my Grandmother's geniune Sicilian Meatballs:
I watched my grandma make these every other sunday for 7 years, longer if you count the years I was too young to pay attention. At the height of her family growth, she made meatballs for 14 people, and there were always leftovers. Feel free to substitute beef for turkey or soy, eggs for fake, joyless, egg substitute, etc. It's your tastebuds!
What you'll need:
For every 2 lbs ground beef
use 3 large eggs
1 cup italian style breadcrumbs (cheaters) plus a bit of garlic, oregano and salt
or approx. 1 cup breadcrumbs, 3 tablespoons dry parsley, 2 tablespoons powdered garlic, 2 tablespoons oregano, 1 to 1 1/2 teaspoons salt, and a tablespoon of basil. do not overdo the basil, you'll have plenty in the sauce, and the meatballs should be earthy, not sweet.)
and a big pot of spaghetti sauce.
Combine all dry ingredients and set aside.
Mix the meat and eggs thoroughly. It will end up looking like very slimy meat. Don't worry. That's what the dry stuff is for.
Add your breadcrumb mixture to the meat, and knead it in.
When everything is mixed, start pulling off 2-3 inch chunks and rolling them into balls. Works best with 2 or more people. One to roll and one to cook.
When you have about a quarter pound of meatballs, put them in a hot skillet.
. . . .(There's 2 ways to do this. Grandma put them in her big cast iron skillet with a lot of grease and fried the hell outta the buggers. My hubby and I use a dash of olive oil for the first batch and constantly rotate the pan. Grandma's would come out rather square and burned on one side. Ours come out round and evenly cooked, but it's more work.)
Brown the meatballs in quarter pound batches, then add them to your sauce. Small batches make it easier to drain off excess grease.
When all meatballs are browned and added to the sauce, cover the pot and let it simmer at least an hour. (Grandma's minimum was 3 hours. You could smell them all day...sigh)
The purpose in the long simmer time is to let the beefy/spicy flavors seep into the sauce, and to ensure the meatballs are thoroughly cooked. It has the added benefit of making everyone hungry enough to eat spaghetti (yuck)
Wednesday, March 26, 2003
Crudballs! A few nights ago, we ordered pizza. I got pepperoni and extra extra cheese. So much cheese that the pepperoni's were in danger of sliding off the edge in a big cheesy avalanche. -pant pant-
I open the fridge, and it's gone.
you know what? I'm pissed, and I'm gonna make french fries! :p I'm gonna spatter nasty grease all over the kitchen, and make Hubby-Man, the evil pizza eater clean it all up.
nyah. That's what he gets for smoking my cigs and eating my pizza and making me wrong for smoking and liking cholesterol ridden foods.
I open the fridge, and it's gone.
you know what? I'm pissed, and I'm gonna make french fries! :p I'm gonna spatter nasty grease all over the kitchen, and make Hubby-Man, the evil pizza eater clean it all up.
nyah. That's what he gets for smoking my cigs and eating my pizza and making me wrong for smoking and liking cholesterol ridden foods.
Tuesday, March 25, 2003
Reiter Dairy Inc. of Barberton, Ohio, recalled 150 half-gallons of its Topps Vitality Fat Free Chocolate Milk because it contains significantly higher-than-labeled levels of vitamins A and D.
The recalled milk contains approximately 44,700 international units per quart of vitamin A rather than the intended level of 2,000-3,000 units and 4,000 units of vitamin D instead of the intended 400-600 units.
Excessive amounts of vitamin A ingestion can lead to severe health problems, including birth defects and irreversible liver damage. Excessive amounts of vitamin D may result in abnormally high blood levels of calcium and phosphate, which may lead to abnormal deposits of calcium in various parts of the body.
The recalled milk contains approximately 44,700 international units per quart of vitamin A rather than the intended level of 2,000-3,000 units and 4,000 units of vitamin D instead of the intended 400-600 units.
Excessive amounts of vitamin A ingestion can lead to severe health problems, including birth defects and irreversible liver damage. Excessive amounts of vitamin D may result in abnormally high blood levels of calcium and phosphate, which may lead to abnormal deposits of calcium in various parts of the body.
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