BEAN THERE, DONE THAT

I consider myself a foodie, though there are things that are not on my menu. Raw fish for example. If God had wanted us to eat raw food he wouldn't have given us the Weber grill. Raw clams, a gourmet item for some, is like a little glob of salty snot to me, although I love liver, an item at which most people turn their noses up. Now there's an awkward sentence! I've sent this essay off to a food magazine. Haven't heard. I guess the real gourmands don't find anything funny about food.

Bean There, Done That

When I moved to Martha’s Vineyard after living most of my life near New York City I realized that the food I had been eating was regional and I’d best get used to something new. The New Englander’s palate was just, well, different.

Back then, when I invited people to my home for a Saturday night dinner party, I usually prepared a prime rib of beef or rack of lamb with the appropriate starch and a green salad. You can imaging my surprise the first time I was invited out on Island and was treated to the traditional Saturday night baked-bean dinner, excuse me, supper. Hot dogs and brown bread rounded out the menu. Don’t get me wrong, I happen to like baked beans but it is not a meal I, nor anyone I have ever known, would have served to company.

Now, technically, if you look at the food pyramid, this should be a well balanced meal. You’ve got your meat, your legumes (the onion in the beans counts as a vegetable) and your grain. Of course in the form they took all three are on that list of foods you should rarely or never eat that nutritionists try to (you should pardon the visual) shove down our throats. These people, however, had been eating this exact same supper every Saturday night for their entire lives. They looked pretty healthy to me, although I can’t vouch for their blood pressure.

Another of the regional foods that I find odd is the lobster roll. I simply don’t understand why they take one of the most precious, gourmet foods in the world, boil it, chop it, mix it with mayonnaise and celery and slop it on a toasted hot dog bun. Some anti-chef must have come up with that one. I’ve never been to Russia but I can pretty much assure you they would not do that with caviar. I have been to Paris and, believe me, if I had asked for a fois gras roll they would have laughed me out of the country. I guess it’s just that Yankees aren’t food snobs.

Then there’s the New England boiled dinner. Where I come from they call it stew but they cut the stuff up into smaller pieces and make gravy. And I still can’t get used to the clam bake. Digging a big hole to cook your dinner just seems like too much work. Although cleanup is a snap. Just throw everything in the pit and cover it up with sand.

They are big on regional cook books here. Every organization has published one, and the local stores are very generous in putting them out on a shelf. I’ve looked at a quite a few. Have even bought a couple. Most of the recipes seems to start out, take a quart of mayonnaise and a package of lime jello.....

One thing I got used to quickly is Quahog chowder. Now that I no longer pronounce it kway-hog I order it everywhere I go. It’s always delicious but varies from thin and watery to so thick that when you spoon it up it sounds like a mule pulling its hoof out of the mud. I tend to favor it on the thicker side and full of potatoes. When we have company from off Island, the chowder is always a consideration when we choose a restaurant.

Pot luck suppers and parties take a little getting used to. Back in New York nobody ever asked if they could bring something when invited to dinner. In fact if you asked them to bring something they would have been insulted. Bring your own food to a party? In New England they are insulted if you don’t ask. It took me a long time to convince my friends not to bring anything. I had to be firm. I like getting all the accolades when I entertain. If you show up with a warm apple crisp for dessert I have to share the spotlight. So stop it!

Ice cream is a regional food that’s easy to get used to. It has become a necessary part of my diet. Every town boasts its own homemade variety. The only problem is that you can’t get it on Martha’s Vineyard off season, which is why I tend to pig out during the summer. You can get ice cream anywhere, it’s true, but I’m betting if Ben and Jerry had lived in New Jersey instead of Vermont they would have bought a Burger King franchise rather than inventing Cherry Garcia and Chunky Monkey.

When I relocated to the Vineyard the fact that I couldn’t get good French bread or bagels was more than off set by the wonderful Portuguese sweet bread. As the years go by, though, I find that to please our seasonal visitors the stores are bringing in more and more items that I hadn’t realized I’d missed. The world is getting smaller and palates are becoming more sophisticated. When you can get a lobster roll at a McDonalds in Iowa, I’ll know that regional food is a thing of the past.