Catty Corner: Rachael Ray's Mess-ipes

Note:  I have confessed numerous times on this blog to loving Rachael Ray Magazine.  I'm not proud of it.  And I'll add that this post should in no way lead you to believe that I will cease to indulge in my favorite monthly (junk) food mag just because the latest issue grossed me out.   However, those of you (and you know who you are) who have given me flack for my RR Mag habit may have had a point...

The June/July double issue of Rachael Ray Magazine started out sunny, as usual, with a spread of summer shopping essentials and the monthly kitchen disaster round table, but when the recipes started in, things took a turn for the worse.  Much, much worse.  

What with her multiple television shows, books and the magazine, RR often reaches far outside the box when it comes to recipe development.  And I find that entertaining.  I mean, when you've gotta write dozens of original recipes each month, creativity is key.  I am usually quite amused by Ray's unusual "stoups" and "sammies" and what-have-you; I read them for entertainment value and I've even made a few of her dishes over the years.  This time around, however, she lost me.  Upon reading many of the concoctions in this month's mag, instead of letting out my usual chuckle and sighing with amusement, I instead gasped in horror and threw up a little in my mouth.  

But rather than drone on about their comparatively disgusting qualities, I'll list of a few of this month's most appalling Rachael Ray Mess-ipes (as I'll now be calling them) and you can "ew" for yourself:

Tuna Salad Lasagna Stack:  This recipe combined an unholy trinity of tuna salad, boiled lasagna noodles and red pepper puree.  It didn't even get a stint in the oven before serving, so the whole mess is room temp to boot.  Ew.  I think Aunt Mavis' three bean and tuna casserole just lost its place of honor in the Gallery of Regrettable Foods.

Tropical Tuna Salad Supper:  Tuna terror strikes again - but what this disaster needed was an editor.  Eliminate the orange marmalade, frozen edamame, plantain chips (???) and a few other things from this salad recipe and maybe you could actually taste the top-dollar ahi somewhere in the mix. 

Sugar Snap Peas-and-Salami Stir-Fry:  The name says it all, people.  Serve atop steamed rice and you'll never have to put up with dinner guests again.

Runners Up:  

Rachael isn't to blame for these two stomach-turners, but they were in the mag, so they're fair game.

Dishwasher fish:  Why are people so fascinated by this mess?  Seriously - tell me if you know.  This month, RR mag rehashes the old gimmick and even points out that you can steam your foil-wrapped fish while you wash dishes (soap and all).  I don't care if not one microscopic droplet of caked-on food or Jet Dry seeps into that packet; it's still gross.  Would you poach fish the same way in a sinkful of soaking pots and pans?  Didn't think so.  Go boil a pan of water and poach your fish in there.

Michelob Ultra Tuscan Orange Grapefruit Light Beer with Natural Flavor:  Don't shoot the messenger.  Direct your complaints to Anheuser-Busch Inc., St. Louis, MO.

Catty Corner

Are you ready for some more meow?  

Catty Corner #2:  New Edible Wasn’t as Tasty as I Expected… 

Can I tell you how excited I was to read the first issue of Edible Dallas and Fort Worth?  I was given a copy of Edible Austin some time ago by a friend in Fredericksburg and I proceeded to devour it cover-to-cover on the car ride back home.  I eagerly anticipated the arrival of this magazine dedicated to local, seasonal and artisanal foods when I heard it was coming to the Metroplex – and I finally got my hands on a copy last Saturday.  Sigh.  It wasn’t all that I had expected...

First of all, I’d like to point out what I enjoyed about Edible:

Variety:  The articles presented covered a wide range of topics – gardening, cooking, farming, etc.

Tom Spicer:  I loved the profile of the man behind F-M 1410.  Kim Pierce captured his passionate conviction and eccentric individuality.

Recipes:  Who doesn’t love recipes?  My mouth really watered for “Deborah’s Herb Crusted Chevre Medallions”.

…However, I’d be fibbing if I said that the good outweighed the bad. I think it was about a 50/50 split.  Here are my issues with the issue:

On the detail-oriented side, I’d like to strongly suggest that Edible add photo captions.  For example, I had no idea who the fellow was who was pictured with the article on Bolsa.  Is he one of the owners or the chef?  And what is the name of the delicious dish to his right? Likewise, other mystery photos detracted from my enjoyment of the magazine, instead of adding to it as they should.

Second, I would have liked a short bio on the contributors in the style of other magazines.  The section called “Notable Edibles”, for instance, is written by the “Edible Staff” – who are they? What are their backgrounds and areas of expertise?  The magazine is about getting more personal with your food, after all, so why not give us a little info on the folks behind the words, too?  (The website offers background on a couple of contributors, but why not the magazine itself?)

Third, some of the content left much to be desired.   Case in point: “The Pleasures of Eating” by Wendell Berry was, in my estimation, a rambling, reprimanding rant against the very folks who would be reading it for not being aware enough to recognize the shortcomings of their own food supply.  I’m sorry, but wouldn’t the audience for such an article (readers of Edible magazine) be quite aware of why, how and what they were eating?  Various parts of the essay also seemed – how to put it? – folksy and outdated.  Take the following quote: “Like industrial sex, industrial eating has become a degraded, poor and paltry thing.”  What exactly is Mr. Berry getting at here?  I don’t think I even know what “industrial sex” is.  The rest of the paragraph didn’t adequately explain the comparison.  

Later, while discussing food advertising Berry states, “If one gained one’s whole knowledge of food from these advertisements (as some presumably do), one would not know that the various edibles were ever living creatures or that they all come from the soil or that they were produced by work.”  Has this man watched television or read a magazine lately?  Not only do I believe that most advertising these days strives to achieve a goal opposite of his claim – in fact exaggerating the connection between their products and the earth – but I’d further hypothesize that any grade-schooler in the country knows that beef comes from cows, which are living animals, and that vegetables grow in the ground.  Only when I flipped to the end of the article and saw that it was originally printed in 1990 did I understand why some of the statements in the piece seemed out of touch with 2009.

Further, a profile of Khatter Vineyards left out a crucial detail.  I have visited this small vineyard and winery, and I think the most important point to mention when suggesting it as a destination (as the article did) is that it is located in the side and back yards of a private home in a residential neighborhood in the suburb of Parker.  Reading a passage like “…nestled among towering pecan trees, overlooking a crooked creek…” gives a very different impression, no? Carolyn Khatter is a lovely person and she makes some damn good wine, but we must be clear about these things.

There’s more, but I won’t press on.   I have high hopes for the next installment of Edible Dallas and Fort Worth, even though this initial effort didn’t satisfy my appetite.  Perhaps issue two will have worked out some of these kinks.

And now, I'm off to my scratching post.

C&S

Catty Corner

You all know me pretty well by now. (So you also probably know that this isn't my cat - it's FP's.)

I'm a sweet girl, and I like to play nice...but sometimes plain ol' nice just doesn't cut it.  Know what I mean?  I've decided to add an every-now-and-then feature in which I can get some things off of my chest - and hopefully info-tain you in the process!  To that end, I present Catty Corner (with thanks to my hubby for the clever title).

Catty Corner #1: Disses and Disappointment 

Not long ago, I met a friend for lunch at a new place we'd both been dying to try.  It's a smaller offshoot of a beloved local legend, tucked into a cozy corner near the Crescent.  I arrived at 12:20 (a little early) that Friday afternoon to find the place hopping - great-looking cars buzzed through the valet line and the patio was packed with pretty people.  As I approached the front door, I momentarily regretted my jeans-and-tank-top attire (I'd decided to play it L.A. that day), but shrugged off my worries in favor of focusing on the great meal ahead.  

Inside at the host stand, I spotted a Silver Fox-type that I was sure was one of the owners chatting up a couple of botoxed blondies in low-cut tops.  "How do you like our new place?" he asked with a grin, and whisked the pair to a table as they gazed about in admiration.  He returned to his post an offered me a warm smile, but when I asked for a table for two, he directed me to the bar and told me I'd have to wait.  Though I spotted several free tables here and there, I kindly obliged (he was very sweet about it) and squeezed into a space at the end of the bar behind a giant plant.  I thought perhaps the delay was due to my "incomplete party", though I wasn't told this in so many words.  In fact, I was assured that my table would be ready very soon.

As I waited (and waited), servers buzzed around me, a man to my left munched a burger and I began to feel very much in the way.  My lunch date eventually came to my rescue, however, and we were seated at a small two-top in the back of the dining room.  It still wasn't clear whether our being seated after her arrival was a coincidence or not, but I decided not to worry about it.  I also didn't fret the nook-and-cranny table location, as I hadn't requested a specific spot, and sometimes these things are the luck of the draw.

I'd had plenty of time to look over the chalkboard while I was waiting at the bar, so ordering was quick-and-easy:  the pasta with seafood special for me, and the club sandwich for my companion.  We settled into the friendly banter of two old friends with a lot of catching up to do, but when our food arrived, my relaxed demeanor quickly turned sour as this restaurant racked up strike three.  The special had been billed as a dish of whole wheat pasta tossed with trout, scallops, mussels and the like ($12, I believe), but it arrived looking more like spaghetti from a kids' menu.  The only discernable sea creatures in the bowl were the mussels - four to be exact - one of which hadn't opened and necessitated quick disposal.  Digging around, I found various bits of other fish, but the dish was awkward to eat, as someone had decided to break the long strands of whole wheat linguine in half before the boil.  The result were floppy, flappy noodles that refused to twirl and threatened to throw tomato sauce across the table with every dip of the fork.  To top it off, fragments of mussel shell peppered the dish (one of the bivalves had cracked), adding a gritty grind to every other bite.  In short, there was nothing special about this special.

To be fair, my friend liked her sandwich and our server was quick to please.  (She crossed the line to overly-solicitous a couple of times, actually, but it wouldn't have bothered me if everything else had gone off without a hitch.)  We exited to a quick goodbye from the same Dapper Dan who greeted me, and on the way back out into a glittering sunny day, I spotted the blondies from the door at a prime table on the patio.  I'll admit a touch of envy.  I'd give this spot a second chance, but I'll avoid the pasta and hand-pick my own table next time, thank you very much.

C&S