Like Lovers
November 15, 2009

Onions are to dishes what lovers are to life: a source of enrichment. I’ve given this some thought lately since this week I have spent my bedtime reading browsing through the fifteen or so food-related books that I recently ordered. None are a disappointment, but several stand out and have made it difficult to enforce my rule against eating after dinner.

My favorite of the “rule-breakers” is The Onion Cookbook by Brian Glover. Oversized, gloriously photographed, rich with the perfect combination of tips, recipes, history, illustrations, it is a book worthy of any coffee table. On the other hand, despite the expensive paper, this is a book that should be used in the kitchen. This one is certainly going to be in the latter category. I am actually looking forward to the stains and spatters I expect will end up on its pages. In my eyes, that will only enhance the beauty of the pages.

Did you know that there are more than 300 species of onions? And that the pungent odor is produced by allicins—chemicals that include sulphur compounds. Little wonder tears are inevitable.*

Onions (and this includes garlic, leeks, spring onions, shallots, and chives) seem to have been one of the first cultivated vegetables in human history, going back more than 5,000 years ago. In ancient Egypt they can often be found depicted in the hieroglyphics, and were even placed in the eye sockets, armpits and body cavities of mummies.

Ancient Greeks and Romans used them too. Hippocrates (ca. 400 BC) noted that onions, garlic and leeks were grown in gardens and found in the wild. The Greeks used them not only to promote health but vitality in their athletes and martial vigor in their soldiers. In Rome, the emperor Nero ate so many leeks, in hopes of improving his singing voice and oratory, that he was named “porrophagus” or “leek eater.”

By the time of the Middle Ages, onions had become an important and commonplace part of the European diet. Leeks were especially appreciated in England where they were one of the few vegetables that could withstand their winter. Chaucer, in the late fourteenth century, even used the phrase “Not worth a leke” to suggest something worthless. And of course The Summoner, a rather vulgar character in the Tales, was portrayed as a passionate lover of garlic, leeks, and onions.

Oddly, the seventeenth century brought the allium family to its knees. While it had been a food of the poor before, it now became the food for the poor. And sexless. In 1699, John Evelyn wrote a treatise on salads as a preface to his Acetaria, specifically addressing the use of garlic: “We absolutely forbid it entrance into our salleting, by reason of its intolerable rankness, and that made it so detested of old . . . to be sure it is not for ladies’ palates, nor those who court them.”

Their unsavory reputation as a food of “low repute” lasted nearly 300 years in England. While used, they were considered socially “impolite” as well as a mark of low breeding. Fortunately, that was not the case elsewhere. Mediterranean countries have always had a love affair with alliums, and France has always had a passion for them, which shocked Percy Bysshe Shelley when he visited.

Columbus brought his own onions and garlic with him to North America, while the Spanish introduced them to Central and South America. But they were not new. Indians were already familiar with the native varieties of wild onion, leek and garlic and used them in both cooking and medicine. (Indeed, Chicago was named after the Illinois Indian name for “the place which smells of onion.”)

In the last 100 years, the onion family has become an integral part of cooking for most of the world. “It is hard to imagine a civilization without onions,” wrote Julia Child in Mastering the Art of French Cooking, “in one form or another their flavor blends into almost everything in the meal except the dessert.”

What I find especially delectable about The Onion Cookbook, aside from its recipes, is the utterly sensual quality of the book. This book offers as much sensory pleasure to the fingers as the recipes do to the eyes, and the food to the mouth. It’s a literary, visual, and gustatory experience that is made all the more vivid by the descriptions and pictures of the various members of the allium family, the flavorings and ingredients made from onions, their cultivation, harvesting, and storage, the various preparation methods, and especially the cooking techniques such as quick frying, stir frying, sweating, caramelizing, grilling, and roasting.

But when you get to the recipes, ahhh. Here is the perfect cookbook over which you can salivate even without a stove. The recipes are broken down into Soups, Starters and Light Meals, Salads, Fish and Seafood, Meat and Poultry, Vegetarian Main Courses, Side Dishes, and Sauces, Pickles & Pastes. Page after page after page of glorious onion dishes like Garlic and Coriander Soup; Stilton-Stuffed Mushrooms Baked in Garlic Breadcrumbs; Moroccan Orange, Onion and Olive Salad (a dish I plant to serve as an accompaniment for the Bastilla to be served at Christmas dinner); Beef Carbonade, Pasta with Garlic and Chili, Caramelized Shallots, and the Onion, Parmesan & Olive Bread (that is going to be part of my food crafts Christmas gift boxes).  

Because I have stopped at this page more than once, I am, for Thanksgiving this year,  replacing the usual green beans with a new idea: Braised Baby Leeks in Red Wine with Aromatics. The picture of the dish makes me swoon (as a lover should), and the recipe is easy:

Ingredients:
12 baby leeks or 6 thick leeks
1 tablespoon coriander seeds, lightly crushed
2-inch piece of cinnamon stick
1/2 cup olive oil
3 fresh bay leaves
2 strips pared orange rind
5-6 fresh oregano sprigs
1 teaspoon superfine sugar
2/3 cup fruity red wine
2 teaspoons balsamic vinegar
2 tablespoons coarsely chopped fresh oregano or marjoram
Salt and freshly ground black pepper

Directions:
Leave baby leeks whole, but cut thick ones into 2- or 3-inch lengths.

Place the coriander seeds and cinnamon in a pan wide enough to take all the leeks in a single layer. Cook over a medium heat for 2-3 minutes, until the spices are fragrant, then stir in the oil, bay leaves, orange rind, oregano, sugar, wine, and vinegar. Bring to the boil and simmer for 5 minutes.

Add the leeks. Bring back to the boil, reduce the heat and cover the pan. Cook gently for 5 minutes. Uncover and simmer gently for another 5-8 minutes., until the leeks are just tender when tested with the tip of a sharp knife.

Use a draining spoon to transfer the leeks to a serving dish. Boil the juices rapidly until reduced to about 5-6  tablespoons. Add salt and pepper to taste, and pour over the leeks. Leave to cool.

The leeks can be left to stand for several hours. If you chill them, bring them back to room temperature again before serving. Scatter chopped oregano or marjoram over the leeks just before serving them.

The only downside to this book is that it is out of print. The link I provided above goes to my favorite remainder dealer who still carries unused editions. If you have a cook in your family or if you just like to read drool-worthy cookbooks do try this. And if you have the inclination (and an onion-loving friend), you could even put together a gift basket that includes this book and maybe a lover. They do go well together.

*Not entirely true. Tear-free chopping is possible—and I guarantee it. Wear swimming goggles. (You can also wear a diver’s mask, but that seems to be overkill.) The goggles should not be tight, but comfortably snug on your head. Avoid their fogging up by licking or spitting on the inside, rinsing them under running water, and shaking them out before putting them on. And to avoid the scent going up your nose, keep your mouth closed at all times. When you are done, put all cut onions in containers or plastic bags, then wash the knife, cutting board and your hands before removing the goggles.

Upcoming Book Festivals:
Unfortunately, there are none coming up this week or next weekend.

The Pub House:
Ten Speed Press was founded and until very recently run as an independent publisher in Berkeley, California. Due to illness, its owner sold it to Crown, a division of Random House, a move that made me groan when I read it.

One thing that Ten Speed has been is revolutionary, appropriate given its location. It took chances with books that few others would, and two of those became lucrative series—the Moosewood cookbooks and the Parachute career books. I was especially fond of their cookbooks and books about food that focused on one ingredient or specialization. Invariably, they contained some of the most beautiful food photography that could make even non-cooks salivate. Not surprisingly, I own a number of them.

I used to buy them by the bagful at the Los Angeles Times Festival of Books. In their last several appearances, they took the equivalent of about six booth spaces on a corner and set up tables of new books—all marked at 50% off—that inevitably attracted so many people over the two days you had to elbow your way in, around, and out. Paying was a matter of shouting loud enough to attract the clerks’ attention so you could hand them your credit card.

Alas, three years ago they were no longer there. Then a year or so later came the sale to Crown. I admit my purchases have dropped off in that time not because I wasn’t interested but because I no longer had the easy annual access to their books.

When I decided to write about them this week, I wanted to see if they still maintained their sense of independence and the vivaciousness that infused their cookbooks. The answer? A qualified yes. Sadly, “corporatization” appears to have had an impact. First, the link above takes you to all of RH’s cookbooks, and so you  must sort among them to find the Ten Speed ones. Second, there are a number of cookbooks by celebrity chefs. (This, I admit, is not my thing though many others love them.) Third, I get the sense that their books now, while still lovely, are somehow less quirky and vivid. They’ve lost that individuality that made their publisher’s reputation as one of the best in this tough niche market.

Still, it’s not all bad news. In searching through the link above I did find a few recent ones (I sorted by release date) that look—what else?—tasty: The New Taste of Chocolate, which promises to be an extraordinary volume based on its description alone (“. . . this definitive illustrated reference has been revised and expanded to immerse chocolate lovers in the rich history and science of the cacao bean . . . explores the art of cacao farming . . . savory recipes . . .  chocolate trends . . . stunning new full color photography and rare archival prints”). Japanese Hot Pots focuses on these one-pot dishes filled with tasty broths and seafood, poultry, greens, roots, mushrooms, and noodles. Quick, easy, and truly delicious, they are as appetizing as they are fast to make. Oooh, tacos, one of my favorite foods. Tacos, the cookbook, is all over them (so to speak) with recipes for chicken, fowl, pork, beef, lamb, game, seafood, vegetable, and even breakfast. You also get recipes and suggestions for salsas and other accompaniments as well as plenty of “how-to’s” on roasting chiles, etc.

Of Interest:
Even though I “know” that there are blogs to cover every subject under the sun I still find myself amazed when I discover one that is “new” to me. And I don’t mean new in the new-to-me-but-familiar-to-others sense, but that it seems to disobey the law of the universe and be really, truly “new.” Flyover America is just such a blog. True, it’s not a literary one—though it is written by two writers, Sophia Dembling and Jenna Schuner—but its quirky design and description make it addictive: “We are two writers in love with America. Every diner and prairie and highway of it. The places that many people consider flyover territory—Lincoln, Nebraska; Lubbock Texas; Bayonne, New Jersey, and the like—grab hold of us. Flyover America is as much a state of mind as a place. Flyover America is packed with stories, discoveries and soul. And it’s got some great malls, too.”

Who could not fall in love with that? Not me. Begun in January of this year, the writers have covered things like the game of Rolley-Hole marbles in Tompkinsville, Kentucky, hay rolls in Oklahoma, a magazine for travelers with disabilities, IHOP’s appearance in all fifty states, interstate highways, the Great Scent Escape, tourist traps good and bad, national parks, oddball museums, route confusion, and much more. The writing is superb. I love it. I definitely recommend it.
 
This Week . . .
I want to share with you one of the better online literary journals, the California Literary Review. Despite its name, this journal is not focused on its namesake or on writers from there. Rather, it is a “complete arts and culture magazine featuring talented writers from throughout the United States, Europe and Mexico.” What you will find here is superb review writing on books (fiction and nonfiction), art exhibitions, movies, television, and performing arts from around the world. There is no “snobbiness” factor here since CLR reaches into every corner of the world and every type of art and culture available. Excellent!

Until next week, read well, read often and read on!

Lauren