Research: Cajun vs. Creole

Bonjour! If you're a fan of charting food fads, you've no doubt noticed that menus featuring “Cajun” or “Creole” offerings are popping up all over the place, no matter what type of restaurant you’re eating at. It’s an interesting trend, but it brought to light a gap in my culinary knowledge: What on Earth is the difference between the two? Well, that seemed like a perfect opportunity for some research, so I started looking into it.

There are several cultural differences, of course, which lead to all sorts of distinctions, not only in the actual ingredients that go into each group’s food, but their entire approach to cooking. If you’re a fan of simplicity, you could follow the single bullet point that one article posits: Creole cooking uses tomatoes, and Cajun cooking does not. Full stop. The end. Good night, everyone!

Obviously, I wanted to dig a little deeper, but that’s some handy knowledge if you’re looking for a fast way to identify the origin of the dish you’re eating. There’s another single-line descriptor that offers a much different type of taxonomy: Creole cuisine is often described as “city” food, while Cajun is considered much more “country”. Why is this so?

It has to do with how the populace established themselves. French colonists that lived in Maine and various parts of Canada who got forcibly expelled by the British during the French and Indian War eventually migrated to Louisiana. That would be the Cajuns. Creole refers to the people who were born to the settlers that already lived in French colonial Louisiana, especially New Orleans. The two populations intermingled a lot, but as alluded to above, the Creoles were much more tied to city life. This, more than anything, is what led to the delineations that separate the two cuisines. After all, Creoles had a lot more access to things like markets and dairy products (not to mention servants that would do all the cooking), while Cajuns were more tied to “living off the land”, so to speak, eating only what they could grow or what they could catch.

The two styles are not totally dissimilar. Both are firmly rooted in French cuisine, with influences from Spain, America, and Africa. Both feature gumbo as a representative dish. Both cuisines feature dishes that are heavily seasoned, though this is often misconstrued as permission to make things unbearably spicy. Cajun food, however, is a lot simpler, basing a lot of their dishes on the “holy trinity”, also known as celery, onion, and bell pepper. They also use a lot of garlic, paprika, thyme, and scallions. One-pot cooking is extremely Cajun, and the roux they use as a base is made from oil and flour, rather than butter and flour roux used in Creole cooking. Cajun gumbo is a lot more stew-like than the soupy Creole gumbo, which has a tomato base. Creole food is more refined across the board, with dishes that are focused on cream and butter, and that incorporate a lot of labor-intensive and multi-ingredient dishes. If you’re looking at a remoulade or a bisque, it’s a safe bet that you’re eating Creole.

Both styles have a lot to recommend them. The simple pleasures of a spicy Cajun stew can be just as satisfying as a complicated Creole Trout a la Meunière. The two have become intertwined to the point that it’s difficult to separate them, but there’s something oddly cheering about that. We’re always hearing about the friction between rural and urban people, and here we have the perfect marriage of the two. Food really is the great unifier.

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Research: "As American as Apple Pie"

We once did a podcast segment on Patriotic Foods, and brought up the phrase that goes through everyone’s heads when talking about food from the homeland: “As American as Apple Pie”. It brings such a warm, comfortable picture to mind, doesn’t it? Such a joyful representation of Americana: The image of a pie (with a lattice top, natch) cooling on the windowsill. But as with most idioms, this one’s origins are a bit murky. Why do we say it? And is it true?

Let’s tackle the second question first. In a word: No. Neither apples nor apple pie got their start in America. Dutch apple pies (the traditional version of pie with pastry on top) have been around for centuries. It is believed that the Romans introduced apples to the English, who then brought them over to America in the seventeenth century. They’ve been here right from the start; apples were among the most popular foods to be brought over by the Pilgrims. The spurs were easy to transport, and hard apple cider was often consumed for breakfast. Pies were also a big staple of the Pilgrim diet, but not in the sense we know them by today. These weren’t dessert treats, they were necessary for sustenance. Pies tended towards the savory, rather than the sweet, and were used as a cheap and effective way of stretching a limited amount of filling to fill hungry bellies. Once the European honeybee arrived, apple trees started to bear larger amounts of fruit, and the apple’s reputation soared even higher. While they may not be native to our shores, apples and apple pie have been a big part of our national identity since before America was even a country.

So yes, since America and apples grew up together, it makes a certain amount of sense to call something “As American as Apple Pie”. But how did the phrase catch on? There are a few ideas about that. One unsurprisingly involves the American legend John Chapman, better known as Johnny Appleseed. Chapman planted countless apple trees in the American frontier, but he wasn’t wandering around randomly. He would acquire land, plant apple orchards, then sell the improved land for a higher price. He was the original flipper! What could be more American than that? Hundreds of thousands of schoolchildren grew up learning about Chapman, and his quintessential American-ness was inextricably linked with the apple, solidifying the reputation of both as national symbols.

Though it’s also been suggested that apple growers pushed the phrase as a marketing term, it’s more likely a combination of two other factors. In 1902, a New York Times article comparing pie to American prosperity declared that “no pie-eating people can ever be permanently vanquished“. Americans took that sentiment and ran with it. When soldiers heading off to World War II were asked about their motivations for fighting the good fight, “For Mom and apple pie” was a common response. The post-war period was a time of intense patriotism, and by the 1960s, “As American as Apple Pie” had become solidified as a statement of proud nationalism. Apples are certainly intrinsic to American history, and the phrase is a beautifully evocative one. But if you’re a stickler for accuracy, feel free to start saying “As American as Blueberry Pie”. Who knows? It may catch on.

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Research: Grilling vs. BBQ

Food research is always fun, but I find I tend to gravitate to one type in particular: The “Versus”. The world of food is wonderfully complex, but that means that similar things often get confused as identical. “Versus” helps us sort things into their rightful categories, and as a bonus, you get to show off your smartypants knowledge at your next party! Today's “Versus” came to me from a Four Courses listener, who noted that we’d be talking about grilling on an episode, and begged us to use proper terminology when differentiating between grilling and barbecue. People do often use those terms interchangeably, so let’s try and get them back in their proper places and figure out what makes them unique.

According to the listener, in order to call something barbecue, it should be cooked at low temperature for a long time, and will usually involve a BBQ pit, rather than just a standard charcoal or gas grill. We also bandied around the necessity for sauce being involved. Poking around for opinions from professionals, we found that they definitely back the listener up on this.

Grilling is described as taking place over charcoal or gas at high temperatures, while BBQ involves cooking over smoldering wood at a much lower heat. The heat applied on the grill is much more direct than that of a BBQ pit. Also, grilling is done so that the meat will caramelize, while BBQ is more about smoking it.

Now, we come to the curious bit. Absolutely none of the sources we consulted on this mentioned the necessity for a sauce in order to call something BBQ. Not in any way, shape, or form. Sauced or unsauced, it seems that the only thing that matters when assigning a taxonomy is the mechanism for cooking the meat. Throwing BBQ sauce onto something grilled doesn’t magically make it barbecue, and since there’s nothing out there called “grill sauce”, society is probably doomed to eternal confusion about the differences between the two methods.

So, when summer rolls around again, by all means, enjoy your cookouts and impress people with your mad phat meat skillz. Just make sure you tell your guests that you’ll be grilling (not barbecuing) some tasty goodness for them, lest they be disappointed when they show up to discover that you haven’t been slowly smoking that pork shoulder for hours on end over smoldering wood chips.

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Research: The History of Dim Sum

Some meals bring you peace and comfort, while some are wild and celebratory. Dim sum has the remarkable distinction of bringing a certain measure of both of these kinds of joy into our lives. But how and when did it arrive on our shores? As with any historical question, there are some conflicting accounts. Kyle touched on a few aspects of the origins of dim sum during a podcast episode, but let’s take a closer look.

Dim sum is often translated as “touching the heart”, which is a perfect way to put it, isn’t it? It is inextricably linked with “yum cha”, or the Chinese ritual of drinking tea. Combining teatime with eating was once frowned upon, as leading physicians of the day thought that it would lead to excessive weight gain. That didn’t deter the farmers and travelers along the Silk Road, who, exhausted from a long day’s work (or journey), would stop into the teahouses that sprang up along the way for a bite to eat and to exchange news and gossip.

Records of dim sum go back almost a thousand years, and in fact, it may be the precursor to brunch in its entirety. Immigrant workers who settled on both coasts of America would often combine their morning and afternoon meals, and after World War II, Americans started to warm to the exotic Chinese dishes they had always avoided in the past.

Dim sum’s popularity soared in both America and China, and has expanded even beyond its modern connotation as “Chinese brunch”. Dim sum can be eaten on the go, as dinner, or even as an Asian version of tapas. I tend to prefer it as brunch, but no matter how you consume it, that rolling cart is sure to bring some fun and adventure to your table, along with the shrimp dumplings.

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Research: Cream Pies vs. Custard Pies

It was amazing to see the vast knowledge gaps pop up every time Kyle and I discussed food, and after a while we gave up trying to predict when they'd arrive and what form they'd take. We both love food, but as enthusiastic as we are, there’s no way to know everything. One time, I was describing how I made a banana cream pie, and Kyle mentioned that my preparation sounded more like a custard pie than a cream pie. We suddenly realized that we had no idea what differentiates the two, so I hopped online to do some research.

The difference is a simple one: In custard pies, the pie’s filling and crust are baked together. In cream pies, the crust is made and cooled, and is then filled with custard that has been cooked separately. That’s it. That means that I did, indeed, make a cream pie. It also means that language is downright confounding sometimes.

Other cream pies include the usual flavors you hear about (chocolate cream pie, coconut cream pie, etc.) as well as lemon meringue pie. Even some pies that contain no dairy products belong to the cream pie family. Wild, huh? But as interesting as cream pies are, let’s not ignore the custard pies, which include some big favorites, like key lime pie, pumpkin pie, and pecan pie. Even though we all now know the difference, let’s not give too much weight to it. No matter which sibling in the Pie Family you select, you’re in for some happiness.

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Research: Food Terminology #1

After my friend Kyle and I ate a lovely winter meal at a somewhat upscale restaurant, we noticed that we were woefully uneducated about some of the culinary items and terms that the menu described. Normally, that wouldn't be overly embarrassing, but we were supposed to speak knowledgeably about the meal on our podcast, which led to some hemming and hawing. Unacceptable! As with any specialty profession, the world of food is chock full of lingo and argot and code. Food terms can be downright daunting, and home cooks may well be intimidated to read a recipe that calls for confit. That is, until they realize that all that means is “cooked in oil”. So, after the fact, I decided to look up a few of these terms that I've heard plenty of times, but never thought to explore the details. Now we have them.

Orecchiette: From the Italian for “small ear”. This pasta takes its name from its shape, which does, indeed, look kind of like an ear. The main issue Kyle and I were dealing with is how to pronounce it. As often happens with foreign words, it can be tackled multiple ways. If you’re trying to be traditional, go with the Italian hard-K sound (aw-rehk-KYET-tay). Some regions soften the accented syllable (aw-reh-shee-EHT-ay). And if you don’t hold with those foreign pronunciations and want to go full American, you could say (or-CHET-tee), which at least would end it on the same vowel sound as a lot of other pastas (macaroni, rigatoni, ravioli, etc). We’re romantic types, so we prefer that second pronunciation.

Gastrique: One of the menu items we discussed was a roasted pork loin offering that was served with greens, an apple cider gastrique, and Yukon gold potatoes. So what the hell is a gastrique? In the technical sense, a gastrique is caramelized sugar, deglazed with vinegar. That mixture is then used to flavor a sauce (sometimes with stock). That may be the textbook definition, but when you see it on a menu, what it probably means is that the sugar/vinegar mixture just has the ingredient mentioned added to it. So this apple cider gastrique? Was a sauce made from sugar, vinegar, and apple cider. Voila!

Crème Anglaise: There were a few desserts to choose from at our meal, and Kyle chose the chocolate bread pudding with caramel and crème anglaise. That term is simply French for “English cream”, and is chiefly used as a dessert sauce. It’s made by whipping egg yolks and sugar together – then slowly adding hot milk. Vanilla is sometimes added for extra flavor. The sauce is then cooked over low heat and stirred constantly until it becomes thick. In addition to being poured over desserts as a sauce, it can be eaten on its own, or used as a base in other desserts (ice cream, for example).

Pot De Crème: Meanwhile, I opted for a different dessert; the caramel pot de crème with sea salt. I had initially assumed pot de crème was something akin to crème brûlée without the brûlée, and I wasn't too far off. Pot de crème is a loose custard, made with eggs, egg yolks, cream, milk, and a flavoring such as vanilla or chocolate. The milk and cream are heated and flavored, then mixed into the egg and egg yolk. The mixture is then strained and baked in a water bath at low heat.

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Research: Broth vs. Stock

Four Courses was a ton of fun to produce, and my grand loves of food, cooking, culinary history, and the local St. Louis restaurant scene haven't gone anywhere, but the time and money necessary to put out the episodes has become a bit much, so the podcast has been put on permanent hiatus. That means its blog will probably go by the wayside, but I didn't want to lose some of the fascinating research I put into various food topics, so I'm going to edit those posts a bit, then port them over here. Then maybe I can spring into doing some new investigations!

First up is a post that is wonderfully relevant to this time of year. 'Tis the season for soups and stews, so you'll be hearing the words broth and stock a lot. But can you tell the difference? One of my old coworkers wondered aloud about what separates chicken broth and chicken stock, and I found I had no idea how to answer. Unacceptable. The two terms are often used interchangeably in everyday conversation, but are they really the same thing? Nope.

I thought it would be fun to try and guess what I believe the differences are before looking into the real answer, and ultimately, my prediction was that stock is the combination of bones, meat, water, and vegetable scraps that you cook down into liquid, and broth is the final liquid in a soup that you consume. That’s not strictly correct, though it wasn’t a terrible guess. It turns out there is no such thing as “strictly correct”, because there are tons of reasoned opinions on the matter. Some people agree with my initial assumption; stock is a neutral base for soup that becomes broth when the solids are strained out and seasoning is added.

For other people, the key difference is bones. Stock would be made primarily of animal bones and trim, while broth would be made with actual meat, to provide a richer flavor. It’s unclear how the people who follow this definition would separate vegetable stock from vegetable broth, though. Perhaps there is no difference to them unless animal products are involved. Some feel that stock turns into broth as soon as salt is added. Some feel that the minute you use a stock in a soup, it becomes broth, but remains stock if used in anything else. In all the articles I read, though, one thing is generally agreed upon: Stock is more of a component, while broth is more of a finished product.

It’s unlikely the slight differences between the two will affect everyday cooking. If your recipe calls for chicken stock and you’ve bought chicken broth, you’ll be fine. Now that this research has been done for you, why not make your next homework assignment making your own stock at home? It’s healthier, cheaper, and tastier, and – bonus – your house will smell fantastic.

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Prove It

With the autumnal TV season upon us, I really need to get into gear to wrap up and talk about the shows I watched over the summer. I've got one episode left of a massive cultural hit that I will have some...contrary opinions about. For today, though, let's talk about an old favorite. The other shows might get rolled into a single post, but something as special as The Great British Baking Show deserves a space of its own.

Any regular reader already knows how I feel about this show, but for the uninitiated, I think it's the best show in recent history, and when it entered my life, it skyrocketed to the top of my favorites list. There are metric tons of both food shows and reality shows on the air, but none of the others come close to capturing the warm, life-affirming tone this show does. You can even listen to a friend and I wax rhapsodic over it if you like.

If you follow the show at all, you know that nothing good lasts forever, and the better something is, the more you'd better treasure it while it exists. We'll get to that momentarily, though. For now, let's talk about this most recent season. As far as the general structure goes, it was as fantastic as ever. Beautiful photography, engaging contestants, good challenge design, fair judging, fun hosts... You've heard it all from me before, and nothing's changed. The initial contestant pool was perhaps not as stacked with intriguing personalities as in seasons past, but once we got down to the final handful, I was as in love with the bakers as I always am. Early standouts included Flora, who often sacrificed flavor for ornate decoration, Paul the prison warden who struggled in early challenges but consistently nailed the Showstopper, and Mat, the adorable fireman. The final three were also an intriguing bunch. Ian was inventive, Nadiya was intensely-focused, and Tamal was a wizard with flavors. Oh, and on a personal note...also super-hot.

So, everything was top-notch as far as the production went, but circumstances surrounding it impeded some of the joy I'd usually get out of my favorite show. Whoever is in charge of scheduling at PBS is clearly in the final throes of dementia. Episodes had no consistency in their airing, be it the day or the time. When it came down to the final two episodes, my local affiliate decided to take a few weeks off from airing it at all. The season's winner was spoiled online. It was as if people were actively trying to ruin a good thing.

And that's not even getting into what's coming next. News is still rolling in about this, so by the time I post, it may well have changed again, but here's how it stands now. First, BBC had the rights to the show bought out from under them by Channel 4. That means it's going from a station funded by governmental license fees to an advertising-supported one. If you're American, this would be akin to Masterpiece Theater going from PBS to NBC. That's not a good thing.

Know who else doesn't think it's a good thing? Hosts Mel Giedroyc and Sue Perkins, who quit the show when it was announced it was making the move. Know who else doesn't think it's a good thing? Judge Mary Berry, who quit shortly thereafter. Right after that happened, it was announced that Paul Hollywood is sticking around as judge of whatever the new version of the show will look like, and that Mel and Sue have already scored a new show of their own.

A new season of Great British Baking Show is currently airing in Britain, so we've got that to look forward to. Plus, there are the three initial seasons that never aired in America, so tracking those down could keep this amazing program in our collective consciousness for a while. But as far as what the future will bring in terms of this franchise? It would appear that the cookie is crumbling.

The Great British Baking Show - Season 3: A

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American Plate - Bite #91: Microwave Popcorn

And, the wave of knocking out the easier Bites continues! Part of my interest in the American Plate Project stems from an interest in not just the foods endemic to our culture, but how those ingredients of yore evolved into some of our more modern tastes. Corn is obviously an extremely important part of American food history - so important, that it's the only food to get multiple entries; O'Connell devotes three of the 100 Bites to it. One of those three entries is about the subspecies of corn that explodes into fluffy goodness when it's heated, but despite this Bite's title, popcorn has a history that extends to far before the microwave could even be conceived of.

Native Americans introduced it to Europeans, who heartily embraced it. People began thinking about different ways to enjoy it, whether it was by fashioning wire baskets to cook it over an open fire, sticking bits of it together with molasses or syrup, or stringing it together to use as decoration on their Christmas trees. After the Civil War, the technology of popcorn consumption kicked into high gear, and with each new invention, popcorn got a firm grip on a facet of American society. In 1885, the steam-powered popcorn maker was devised, which led to its popularity at stadiums and arenas. In 1925, the electric corn popper came along, and was immediately adopted by the burgeoning movie theater industry. As a cheap snack, the sale of popcorn kept a lot of struggling movie houses afloat during the Great Depression, and it's had a permanent home at the cinema ever since.

In the 1950s, overwhelmed housewives were delighted with the arrival of Jiffy Pop, which was an inexpensive and entertaining distraction for their kids, and required no clean-up. Finally, in the 1980s, microwave technology became affordable enough for the average American household to acquire, and it was only natural that one of the first foods developed for it was popcorn. Once again, it took over, and nowadays, a full 65% of popcorn consumed is by people microwaving it at home.

As you can see, a search of my pantry yielded a couple different kinds of microwave popcorn. There are a lot of flavors to choose from these days, but really, if you just avoid the fake butter topping, it's a pretty healthy snack. It's also fun to experiment with different seasoning blends. People tend to just dust popcorn with salt, but there are tons of things that liven it up, from cayenne to dill. It's found another natural companion in the rise of streaming media, and there's no better way to pass a snowy Thursday evening than by firing up the Netflix, settling on the couch with a bowl of popcorn, and going to town.

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Cookie Party: Volume 7

I don't know what it is about cookies that brings out the mad scientist in me. When it comes to savory dishes, I'll tinker with recipes, but mostly do so in an attempt to refine a dish to its best classical form. When it comes to cookies, though, I'm apparently happiest when the result is monumentally weird. My radar went off when a friend of mine posted a lovely shot of some shortbread cookies she'd recently made, and when I saw that they incorporated fresh basil into the dough, I knew I'd have to give them a whirl.

Lemon Basil Shortbread Cookies
An English Garden in Every Bite

It's the perfect season to try these out. Lemon and basil are so refreshing in the June heat, and while shortbread can tend to be overly dry, summer refrigerators are usually stocked with cool drinks. This recipe requires a lot of butter, but aside from the lemon and basil, none of the ingredients are different from any other standard shortbread.

I used my mixer to cream the butter with powdered sugar, vanilla, lemon juice, lemon zest, and the basil, then mixed in some flour and salt. This was the point where I reached the biggest challenge of the process. The recipe asks that you take the resultant sticky dough, separate it into two balls, then roll them out to a quarter-inch thickness and cut shapes. My dough was far too soft to even consider rolling, let alone cutting shapes. Anything I cut would immediately fall apart, as the softened butter made the dough too pliable to work with. I wound up just tearing off balls of dough to flatten into circles with my palm.

I'm not sure how I'll correct for this issue next time. I could either add more flour to make the dough stiffer, or perhaps try chilling the dough for a while to firm it up. I believe I'll try the latter, since excessive flour can make the cookies dry and impairs the flavor. While the cookies baked, I whipped up the glaze, which consists of powdered sugar, milk, and lemon juice. I should have seen the next problem coming, since I was baking more cookies than the recipe stated would result. I didn't have enough glaze to cover all the cookies, and for the ones that did get glaze, some of them got short shrift.

Still, I was pretty happy with the flavor. As with most of my odd cookie creations, the response I got from other people was decidedly one of confusion. I'm not sure these were entirely successful, because the black pepper/cumin cookies are far stranger than these, but got a better reception from the people I gave them to. I liked them, though, and I think that with some tweaks, I can turn out a better batch next time. Maybe I'll even get to finally use the alphabet cookie cutters I've been itching to try out.

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Top Chef

Back in 2012, I listed the documentary Jiro Dreams of Sushi as my #3 favorite movie of the year. It's not hard to see why. Combine a compelling topic with an innate love of sushi, and toss in some fantastic food photography, and of course I'd be magnetically drawn to it. When I heard that director David Gelb was developing a similar documentary style as a television series for Netflix, I was overjoyed.

That first season of Chef's Table has been out for a while now, but it wasn't until I heard that Season 2 episodes were being released that I finally carved out some free time to wrap up those first six episodes. Each of the episodes focuses on a single chef, and delves into not only his or her most well-known dishes, but their backgrounds and what made cooking such an important part of their lives. The overwhelmingly beautiful food photography is back, and it's fascinating to see how fine dining has diverged into such wildly different concepts, depending on the creative mind behind it.

The six chefs that the first season revolves around are from all across the world, and all have different motivations for wanting to excel in the food world. One will want to spread a message of sustainable eating and how the next generation will source its ingredients, while another got her start just wanting to prove to her family that she has the skill and drive necessary to be a success.

As with Jiro Dreams of Sushi, part of the appeal is getting behind the magic of the beautiful food to get at the stories behind it. Food as a business is constantly locked in a struggle between artistry and commerce, and I'm always interested in seeing how people succeed or fail at threading that needle. Here are six stories of people who hit the bullseye, and whose cooking has attracted worldwide attention. It's wonderful to see people achieve their dreams and achieve such a vast measure of success, of course, but in a weird twist, these chefs' prominence is also the series' biggest flaw.

In Jiro Dreams of Sushi, there was no illusion that Jiro was an ordinary guy. He is rightly depicted as the king of his castle. He may be artistic, but he's also a stern and demanding taskmaster, whose rigidity has made him a reliable and consistent force in the culinary world. Chef's Table takes the weird tack of trying to sell a "common thread" narrative, positing that since food unites us all as people, these chefs should be hailed for building strong fellowships and a sense of community.

That just doesn't work. As nice as some of these chefs are (and most seem like perfectly decent sorts, if a little emotionally distant), they are not "of the people". These are the best of the best, and while it's perfectly acceptable to celebrate their talent, that talent is only shared with diners with sizable bank accounts and the connections necessary to getting a sought-after seat in a very small dining room.

That misstep aside, this is still a must-watch for anyone as obsessive about the world of food as I am, or for those who like to see what drives the creative spark behind some truly impressive art. I just wish the show would stop pretending that any of us plebeians will ever get to experience it.

Chef's Table - Season 1: B

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American Plate - Bite #33: Ice Cream

Wow, I'm really whipping through the simple ones, aren't I? I suppose it makes sense to front-load the entries for the Bites that enter my life most often, but at some point, I'm going to have to start tracking down the rarer stuff. Not today, though! Today is all about an American favorite that's all too easy to lay our hands on. Hot weather is upon us, and that means it's time for our annual love affair with ice cream.

Not that the love affair is in any way new. Ice cream arrived on the culinary scene in the late 1600s, and by the mid-1700s, it was being served at fancy colonial parties. Ice cream got its biggest boost from Dolley Madison, who by all accounts was one hell of a hostess. She served ice cream at James Madison's second inaugural ball, and it became a kind of signature dessert served at her White House dinners. That sparked a national craze for ice cream that has never abated.

Still, ice cream was tough to make, requiring a lot of physical labor and a massive amount of chipped ice (a tricky ingredient in itself, at it was difficult to prevent from melting). Enter two unsung pioneers. The first was Augustus Jackson, an African-American cook who had once worked in the White House and invented a prototype ice cream churn in 1832. Unfortunately, he didn't get a patent, but that didn't stop him from establishing himself as a popular ice cream purveyor. In 1843, a Philadelphia woman named Nancy Johnson received the first U.S. patent for a hand-cranked "artificial freezer". Made from a pewter cylinder, it became the basis for all the ice cream machines that have come after. Once ice cream became a more attainable treat for all, its place in America's heart was forever cemented.

The American Plate ends its entry on ice cream there, but as a proud citizen of St. Louis, it would be remiss of me not to mention ice cream cones. OK, fine... There was a 1903 patent for ice cream cones for Italo Marchiony, a New Yorker. But any ice cream lover worth their salted caramel knows that the ice cream cone was independently invented and popularized in America at the 1904 World's Fair in St. Louis. As the story goes, a Syrian immigrant named Ernest A. Hamwi was running a zalabia cart at the fair. Zalabias are waffle-like pastries, and when Hamwi noticed his neighboring vendor Arnold Fornachou had run out of serving dishes for his ice cream, he formed his zalabia into a cone, and the idea took off from there. Later, Hamwi would form the Missouri Cone Company, and the Show-Me state became a manufacturing hub for ice cream's best friend.

These days, there's a huge variety of ways to enjoy ice cream, only a few of which are pictured here: There's the ultra-fancy scoop of vanilla streaked with caramel and topped with salt flakes, and an outstanding standing banana split, as well as a shot of me enjoying a spicy scoop of ginger ice cream that just about burned my taste buds off. In a good way. That's hardly the extent of the ice cream types I've eaten recently, though. From a bland, discount tub of plain vanilla to the rich decadence of chocolate/peanut butter Häagen-Dazs. From the zany mixture of Ben and Jerry's Chubby Hubby to experimental goat cheese milkshakes from the local sandwich shop. From a high-end scoop of light, refreshing lemon/olive oil verbena to shame-eating Edy's cookie dough in front of the TV, ice cream has been well-represented in this American's diet. And despite my alarmingly expanding waistline, I wouldn't have it any other way.

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American Plate - Bite #100: Sushi

Frankly, I'm amazed that this wasn't the first entry of this project. True, I was first drawn to it by the allure of exploring our nation's history through the evolution of our culinary habits, but let's just say it: Sushi is amazing, and I'm head-over-heels in love with it. I'm extremely fortunate that its popularity has blossomed in the United States, because it might not ever have happened.

As recently as the 1970s, sushi was a niche food, enjoyed almost entirely by Japanese citizens in California and New York City. It had already had a long and prosperous history in Asia; archaeologists have discovered prototypes of it that date back almost 2500 years, and by the 1800s, sushi as we understand it today was being eaten in Edo (Tokyo). It's been filtering out ever since, and when the American diners wandered into those small sushi places of the 1970s, our country finally caught on to something special.

Opening a restaurant in Tokyo was a hellishly complicated and expensive process (and likely still is), so some chefs decided to seek opportunity by opening places in America, where their risks paid off. By the early '80s, sushi was starting to capture the national attention in larger cities, although it was still pretty mysterious to most Americans. It developed a reputation as being one of those weird foods that only rich people eat, and the middle classes stuck to their pork chops and meatloaf for a while.

Once people got a taste of the wonder that is sushi, though, it's no surprise that its popularity exploded in the late '80s and through the '90s. People like new and exciting cuisine. Once upon a time, Chinese food and Tex-Mex were the culinary frontier. Those became so thoroughly integrated that we needed a new thrill, and sushi stepped up to be the exotic food of the moment. Sushi restaurants began appearing everywhere, and they're a happily common sight across the American landscape today.

It makes sense to round out the journey of American historical tastes with sushi, as it still enjoys a bit of novelty as an exotic and unfamiliar cuisine to many people, yet has enough widespread popularity to be considered intrinsically linked to modern American tastes.

That linkage to American tastes carries some dangers, though. Wonderfully traditional Japanese flavors began to get blunted for American palates, leading to the invention of bland, disappointing things like the California roll (avocado and tasteless fake crab) and the Philly roll (filled with cream cheese). When I go out for sushi, those are banned from the table. Other American flavors can be more successfully incorporated, like deep-fried shrimp, but I'd always rather get something as close to the authentically Japanese experience as possible.

Sushi is incredibly important to me. When someone asks me what my favorite food is, it often feels like being asked to name a favorite child, but you can bet that sushi is always hovering at or near the top of the list. Does my love of sushi make me feel any less American? Absolutely not. To me, it's as much a part of America today as pizza.

Just as sushi displaced other foods to be the poster child for welcoming strange and exciting new flavors to our country, so too will it be displaced by something else. But like pizza, I have trouble believing it will fade out of popularity, like tang and aspic casseroles. Whatever the next food that steals America's heart turns out to be, a portion of mine will always be devoted to sushi.

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Emancipation Snacks and the War of Legume Pronunciation

Hello, Spring! It's nice to see you in all your perverted glory, from loud mating animals to sudden torrential downpours. A changing season is always a time that our culinary tastes shift, and it's exciting to start getting into all the fresh deliciousness that these next couple of months will bring. To that end, hows about you hop on over to the Four Courses site and give Episode 25 a listen? Guest host Tiffany Greenwood and I will be waiting there to welcome you!

Topics include Weber Grill, the joy that peanuts and peanut butter bring into our lives, a history lesson about our friend the potato, and the tasty rituals surrounding Easter and Passover. Please enjoy!

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Culinary Segregationists and the Sugar-Frosted Con Job

Four Courses Podcast - Episode 24

February is a strange month. It's short! But this year, it's longer! It's freezing cold! Now it's 77 degrees for no reason! Now, five inches of snow are falling and melting within six hours! When the weather goes wonky, it's time to turn to the world of food for some comfort, and this month's topics have that in spades. Join me and guest host Pamela Merritt by heading on over to the Four Courses website and giving Episode 24 a listen!

Topics include Pho Grand, the immense happiness brought into our lives by peppers, a dive into the homey world of casseroles, and the societal implications of upscale comfort food. Please enjoy!

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Small Plate #4: Bloody Mary Vs. Mimosa

Four Courses Podcast

The podcast has been too congenial lately. It's time for a good ol' fashioned fight! Guest host (and Four Courses co-founder) Kyle Kratky was good enough to devote some time to shredding my opinion and hurt my feelings, and let's hope I got some good digs in at him as well.

In Episode 23, Kyle and I talked about the social implications of brunch. But forget all that jazz about the betterment of society! Let's talk booze!

Do you favor the Bloody Mary when you knock back a drink at brunch, or are you in the Mimosa camp? Go check out our debate over which one is better on the Four Courses page, then stop by Facebook to cast your vote!

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Evening Egg Espionage and the #BrunchLivesMatter Movement

Four Courses Podcast - Episode 23

Happy New Year! A new year signifies beginnings, and what better way to honor that than with an episode all about the meal that begins the day? Yes, it's an all-breakfast bonanza, and I'm so happy to welcome back Four Courses co-founder Kyle Kratky to serve as guest host in this episode! It was certainly a fun one to record, so go give Episode 23 a listen.

Topics include the Goody Goody Diner, the light and flaky majesty of the biscuit, a discussion about how breakfast fits into modern society, and an attempt to untangle the ethical knots of brunch. Please enjoy! Preferably with a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon in front of you.

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