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Posts Tagged ‘aluminum’

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I recently saw a meat thermometer that has Bluetooth technology and is iPhone, iPad and iPod compatible, leading me to consider whether we’ve all gone absolutely barking nuts.

Or have we? You know I’m old school when it comes to cooking. I’m not above corner-cutting from time to time, especially nostalgic corner-cutting (I grew up slurping on canned Thanksgiving cranberry sauce, and I still dig slicing it along the handy grooves courtesy of the aluminum). And I’m not above getting an education on what’s truly useful.*

But that’s the issue, really:

1) How much time and effort does all of the gadgetry really save, and

2) How much of our sensory and instinctual skills get surrendered to Calphalon?

We’ve discussed the second question, especially after I wrote this post last summer and this one a few weeks ago. And I alternate between ‘How did our great-grandmothers cook so well, with nine kids and without non-stick casseroles?’ and ‘But if they had Amazon Prime, wouldn’t they jump on it like Bond on a blonde?’ Still, it’s worth more discussion, especially this time of year.

I love my candy thermometer. I’m glad I don’t have to drop a little water into my syrup to see if it forms a ball. I’m further glad I don’t have to determine the temperature of my oven by sprinkling flour on the underside of a pie plate and watching it go from tan to brown, or doing the same with a sheet of paper, or—surely for the asbestos-skinned among women—plunging my hand into its depths and counting how many seconds I can stand it before having to pull my hand out.**

When it comes to Thanksgiving, a friend put it well when he asked why we should ‘spend a boatload of money when just a pan, a dollar store baster and a good recipe is all you need.’ For the most part, I’m inclined to agree. I like becoming pretty well engrossed in the experience. I need to get my hands dirty and create. But I’m curious about your standpoint.

Does it depend on the gadget, the skill or even the person in question? How far back do you scale when you cook a holiday meal? If you’re a gadgeteer, tell me truthfully whether you simply appreciate the newness and coolness of the state-of-the-art utensil (I understand), or if you find it significantly more helpful than the low-tech one.

And to me the bigger question is how much technology to accept, because it stands to reason that for each new gadget, a skill is often enough left behind. As I told my friend, spending money aside, I’m worried that buying devices we don’t necessarily need may be training us to trust them instead of our own five senses and instincts; and that it will be a dark day when we don’t know if something’s cooked (or raw, or burned) unless a device tells us so. That would be a millennia of human understanding in the toilet. The fact that GPSes sometimes tell people to drive into lakes and people bloody DO it tells me we’re on that road.

In my mind, we’re already detached from so much that is elemental. By buying and buying into everything new for the kitchen, do we risk losing part of the wisdom of our ancestors? Part of our humanity?

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*At a height of five foot three, I’m not above much.

**Seriously. These methods were as common as smallpox.

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When I was growing up, weekends in the summer (much like weekdays in the summer) were spent at the beach. My dad would load up the tall aluminum jug with ice cubes and then fill it with orange juice, vodka and Grenadine, recreating a drink he enjoyed in Jamaica sometime in the 60s. Over the course of the day, visitors would sprint across the hot sand, cool their feet in the shade under our beach umbrella and have a couple of Dixie cups of this stuff. It was popular enough among my parents’ friends that one of their little daughters passionately disagreed with her teacher one day at school, insisting, ‘A Flamingo isn’t a bird; it’s a drink!’

This drink was so celebrated, and the coral color so pretty, that of course I tried it. Once. And I hated the alcoholic wallop. But recently I started thinking it might be fun to make a Flamingo for my own taste, wondered if it would be worth a shot to try make one that was better suited for drinking than for polishing the TV cabinet.* The chance came last night when I was invited to a party at the home of my good friends Kim and Doug. An extra lucky break for someone who is a novice (me) when it comes to drinks: Doug used to be a bartender. If I was going to learn to make a good Flamingo, I needed a good teacher, and he was very willing to be that. Done.

Pure orange juice was easy enough to find. But a word about Grenadine: I was astonished, and frankly disgusted, by the contents of the Grenadine that’s available. There were three brands at Foodtown, and two of them—the biggest names!—contained high fructose corn syrup, red food coloring and precious little else. Seriously—it’s just goo. Grenadine’s supposed to be a pomegranate-based syrup, for crying out loud. The last bottle had all of the other stuff in it, but DID contain pomegranate juice, so it won.**

I gave Doug the orange juice and Grenadine and asked him to use plain vodka (Grey Goose, if you must know). He got out one of those shaken-not-stirred mixers, just shy of two cups, and got to work making the inaugural Flamingo. I watched, figuring if I didn’t like how he made it that I’d try it on my own, but darned if he didn’t nail it on the first try.*** It was refreshing and tropical-y with just a breath of vodka to adult it up. And he even chilled the glass by keeping ice water in it while he mixed the drink. Lovely stuff.

Here’s how he made it:

Load a martini glass with ice water. To an ice-filled mixer add 1.5 shots of plain vodka. Top off with chilled orange juice. Add a couple of shakes of as pure a Grenadine as you can find. Shake well. Pour off ice water and add mixture. Serve immediately.

My hosts tasted it and liked it, and my sister—who remembers it from our childhood as well—liked it as much as I did.

Isn’t it cool to think an heirloom doesn’t have to be a quilt or a doll or jewelry? And isn’t it even cooler to think an heirloom can evolve…maybe even be improved for another generation?

*Someone has to wonder these things.

**Next course of action: I’m going to make my own. Pomegranate juice is available at well-stocked supermarkets. How hard could it be to add a bit of simple syrup and reduce it ?

***It’s totally who you know.

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