It might not be too late...

It's time for my second annual post before we roll this decade up and toss it into the time capsule.

What a year! Mind expanding, really. New houses, new lessons, new foods.

I once read an article that said if you hadn't tasted something by your middle twenties it drastically decreased the probability that you would try it and, more significantly, enjoy it. It makes a lot of sense, although most of the things I've decided that I don't like have come from trying them (tapioca being the exception) well before my mid-twenties. I think of myself as open-minded but there are a few things that are unequivocal deal breakers when I'm trying to build a relationship with the plate in front of me:

Tapioca pudding or balls - forget about it. I respect it because it's a root. But that's a textural problem that I'll never get over. See also: Jell-O which I have even less respect for because it comes from horse toenails (and the colors are shocking) .

Cilantro - I was told I was lacking an enzyme to really appreciate this noble herb, although this NY Times article explains it differently.

Butter cookies - boring

Vanilla ice cream - ditto

Papaya - this is my personal durian fruit, skunky and funky with hints of ripe cheese. Sometimes I gag just thinking about it.

American Cheese - it's probably unAmerican to hate it, but I think it speaks volumes about our self-righteous, modifications to things that we leave in inferior shape to how we found them. See also: Agribusiness

Fowl - the meat of most birds is stringy, it reminds me of what it would be like to eat people. Sorry if I just ruined it for you.

Fruit in any kind of gelatinous stabilizer. See also: yogurt parfaits (by proxy) and "fruit filled" chocolate truffles.

It's a weird list, admittedly. We humans are a strange group and preferences are tough to get beyond. But I have to say I was pleasantly impressed with myself when I took two items that previously occupied spaces on that list and bumped them into my Garden of Eatin' (insert trademark sign here).

Are you ready for this?

....mayonnaise and diver sea scallops (this does not include small bay scallops, I still don't like those).

Mayonnaise occupies a challenging corner of the culinary space for lots of folks. Eggs and oil emulsified into a jiggly blob; as a long time disliker, I get it. Put simply, it's gross. My entree into the world of mayonnaise can be exclusively attributed to a pricey product from Spectrum made with organic eggs and organic Arabequina olive oil. The texture is silky, the flavor opens up with a strong enough hit of acidic brightness that the fat is cut on your tongue. It's something that deserves to be on a sandwich, or have artichoke leaves dipped into, or to spread on beefy slices of summer's tastiest heirloom tomatoes. That being said, I'm proceeding down the mayonnaise path with fair caution. But I am proud to say that I opened my mind and palate to this new thing, even after I past my middle twenties. Here's my favorite way to enjoy mayo:


That's a fried egg sandwich Assassinites (I just coined that for you multitudes of readers *dad*) with a notable mayo layer beneath that pooling drippy ray of yolk sunshine.

Scallops were a risk, a whim, and a surprising win. Living in Mendocino I can't just bop into any old affordable yet tasty restaurant any old time. The pickings up here are slim, alright pizza or fancy feasts without much in between. We fail in all ethnic categories. Periodically, I tire of cooking the same fresh, seasonal, locally foraged produce in more or less the same style and begin craving variation. This is where my occasional acknowledgement of vegaquarian tendencies kicks in. Sea scallops are readily available here and affordable when cooking for one or a few. My protest against scallops historically had more to do with texture than taste. In restaurants they can be (and nearly always are without exception) stringy or rubbery, reminiscent of chicken breast. They often come suspended in sauces that only serve to highlight them like little sponges afloat on the sea. It turns out, through unlikely experimentation, I like them flash seared in an uncouth amount of butter. And it helps to salt and pepper them and let them rest for half an hour on the counter before throwing them into the pan. My favorite way to eat them is on top of a salad with apples, fennel, grapefruit, and a light peppery green like arugula. For dressing, just deglaze that buttery pan with a crisp white wine and then mix with a little vinger (I used blackberry vinegar once and it was a real game changer) or lemon, a dash of salt and drizzle away on that pile of snappy fruits and greens.

Here's your associated eye candy:


In closing, it's mighty gray out there, don't forget to take your vitamin D.