Ben Bernanke and Green Bean Casserole

If you’ve been watching the news about our country’s financial troubles and find yourself wondering how we got ourselves into this mess, wondering how one company can be so important to the economic well being of our nation, I think the answer might be setting at your dining room table next Thanksgiving.

Green Bean Casserole.

We would not have the French Fried Onion industry if it weren’t for this one product. Do you buy French Fried Onions any other time of year, for any other reason that this rare occurring dish? I would guess not.

I don’t know anyone that really likes this traditional food. Sure your Uncle Clyde might say it’s his favorite thing in the world, but if he really liked it that much, your Aint Theeta might make it for him more than annually. We love hamburgers and have figured out how to serve them more than just the Fourth of July. I think Uncle Clyde is lying, just like you and I lie to our mommas.

I’ll admit it. I take the obligatory spoonful as the pyrex baking vessel comes around to my spot at the table. I’m a big boy now, but I still take my fair share for reasons other than palatial savor.

But when you look at the bigger picture, when you and I take that small teeny crusty corner out of the Green Bean Casserole, we are not just showing mom that we have finally matured to the point of willfully taking just a little bite of everything that gets passed, we are also doing our part in helping our national economy. If it weren't for Green Bean Casserole, think of how many makers of French Fried Onions would be out of business.

Just like AIG, never mind that we have no idea how this three ingredient side came to be so critical a player that to let it disappear would have far reaching effects. And finding the person responsible for the frackus is about as easy as pinning the credit on the mother that caused Green Bean Casserole to become a ubiquitous feature of the culinary landscape of the holiday table.

Some mysteries will never be solved.

Whole Food

We are all a product of our past and the experiences before lead to the expressions of the present.

I am asked constantly about where I got my culinary training. It would be so much easier if I could say the Culinary Institute of America, or some other noted school. And since I don’t have a list of chefs under which I apprenticed, or the names of fine restaurants in which I have cooked, I have to come up with a different response.

So far, the food has spoken for me.

No, I have to say that I had been a collegiate pastor for 18 years. I spent the first part of my career years watching over the needs of eighteen to twenty two year old men and women.

How did this help me become a better chef?

I know it’s not true in every case, but in the ideal sense, a pastor concerns him or herself with one primary question, “How are you doing?” Not in the cliché form where you ask it because you are standing in the checkout line together, but something much more.

A good pastor is concerned about well-being, not just whether or not you are going to heaven when you die, or if you show up in church on Sunday, or if you’ve written your check for the offering plate this month. No, the best ones want to see people become whole.

It is in this spirit that we create our restaurant. This is why I mock the judges’ comments on shows like Top Chef, when they overlook a young chef’s relational weaknesses and say it’s all about the food. No, its not.

You can’t extract the role of food away from the broader sense of what it means to be human.

Our need for food is married to our need for connection and community, of good conversation and relationship. It is to be integrated, not detached. Instead, eating has become mechanical, much like pulling into a gastronomical filling station. Open the tank, pump in the fuel to the brim, and race off to the next destination, and all the while never realizing the price we are paying for it.

Last Saturday was a rewarding example of customers embracing this idea. Several tables of friends, lingering for hours, laughing, talking, enjoying the near perfect weather outdoors. One patron came up to me as his group was leaving and said, “We have had the best time here. Thank you.”

And our food and drink helped make that happen.

Bourdain, the World Herald and the need for more bread

My workweek builds to a crescendo on Saturday, and with the review coming out in the Omaha World Herald, I knew the chords of rhythm and harmony had to be in sync.

Sunday mornings are a French Press, the newspaper, maybe some eggs and bacon and a look at this week’s PostSecret. It’s taking the beagle to the dog run and a familiar stroll through our Sunday Farmer’s Market. It’s what a day off should be.

I kept reminding myself this moment would come, while we were neck deep in it Saturday afternoon, trying to recover from a monster lunch and realizing that at this rate, we were going to run out of bread. Not a good thing for a place where bread is half the title.

Loaves to divide. Veg to prep. Sauce to reduce. Pastries to finish. A mountain of dishes to scale. Like Smokey and the Bandit, we had a long way to go and a short time to get there.

Anthony Bourdain was in our town to speak at the university this week. He is an entertaining fellow with not a whole lot to say other than what’s on his mind. And I think therein lies the endearment. Shoot straight. Don’t settle for inferior. Don’t take yourself too seriously.

He is a chef, and speaks as one who understands kitchen culture. The point of the kitchen is not the TV screen. The deeper pleasure comes at the end of the day, when you’re speckled with splats of every kind of liquid from dishwater to tomato sauce; you sit down at the bar and review the day.

He articulates what I love about my job. It doesn’t matter the type of food or the style in which you cook. The same is true for all kitchens. The honesty of the work tells you immediately how you did. When faced with the demands of all that stands in the way of a customer’s enjoyment, the evaluation is very simple; did you get it done, or did you not?

Based on your comments, I think we did alright.

A Nice Way to Start the Weekend

I got a call two weeks ago from a woman saying she was planning to do a review of our restaurant. I asked her when she would be coming in and she replied, "Oh, I've been in twice already."

My reactions slowed. The thought that turned over and over in my head was, "I hope we were on those two nights."

After waiting and wondering for 14 days how she experienced our place, I read the following review and rest assured that we did our job well.

Read the review of bread&cup in the Omaha World Herald

Heirloom Pumpkin with Apple, Sage & Coconut Relish

One style I implement often in my soups is a two-part, hot/cold combination. I start first with the base flavor, and then develop a second addition to be added upon serving. This enables me to incorporate texture that would otherwise be destroyed by prolonged exposure to heat.

A favorite in this style has been our Black Bean & Lime Salsa. We create a pureed base with black beans, onions, garlic & white wine. When it is plated, a scoop of salsa made with diced tomatoes, cilantro, lime juice and zest is placed on the soup. The salsa acts both as a garnish and lends an acidity that compliments the black beans.

With the arrival of heirloom pumpkins, I used the same idea to create a new fall soup we introduced last week. I’d like to share the idea with you to try at home.

Heirloom Pumpkin

In a small stock pot, add:

2 lbs pumpkin flesh, peeled, cut into cubes.¹

1 bread&cup cinnamon roll²

Enough water to cover ingredients

Explanation:

¹You can use any type pumpkin. I used Rouge Vif d’Etampes, the “Cinderella” pumpkin from our local grower. It has thicker walls and produces a nice flavor. It has a slightly bitter aroma that turns sweet as it cooks. I don’t add any other ingredients because I want to taste pumpkin. The addition of items like onion or garlic can overwhelm the subtlety of the pumpkin.

²The cinnamon roll may seem odd, but it does two things for me. I commonly thicken soups with my day old bread. Since my bread is made with sourdough starter, it imparts a slight tang to the soup. But here in this soup I want a little sweetness and cinnamon spice, as well as thicker body. The cinnamon roll does both.

Simmer the ingredients until pumpkin is tender. Puree the soup using an immersion blender or food processor. Season with salt to taste.

Apple, Sage, & Toasted Coconut Relish

2 apples, peeled, cored and diced.

1 t sage

2 T toasted coconut

Zest and juice of ½ lemon.

Combine ingredients together in a bowl and let marinate for 15 before serving.

Serving suggestion:

We serve our soups with a seasoned crostini (toasted bread). You can float the crostini on the soup and ladle the relish on top.

Chicken in the bread pan pickin out dough

I found this photo of me and my dad in the chicken yard when I was a wee lad. It and the article below prompted a thought about nurturing a healthy inner life.

http://www.plentymag.com/features/2008/09/q_a_richard_louve.php

In his book, Last Child in the Woods, Richard Louv promotes the need to reconnect kids to the natural world. I couldn’t agree more. This picture reminds me of the heritage that I was given, even though I didn’t fully appreciate it at the time.

I hated the country as a teenager. Too boring, nothing to do. Now I would love to have a rural plot of land on which I could release creative energy. I can’t be outside enough.

I believe the answer Louv is promoting is simple; children need grown ups to show them how to live. It’s the execution of that solution that is not so easy.

Kids will always squawk, always balk, always resist the generation ahead of them, but will eventually come around in due time. Remember how dumb you thought your parents were? Now we see they may have known a thing or two.

How did I ever live without it?

Technology has a way of making life work a little better for us, but if we aren’t careful, I find it can also diminish our ability to find better pleasure.

I heard a term years ago by an author who was promoting our need for a better lifestyle. He encouraged his readers to develop “technological boundaries” in order to avoid being seduced into the next best thing that promises less work and more time for you. Just like a fence around the backyard, the boundary is intended to keep the good things in and the bad things out.

A few years back, I came across this idea right about the time our answering machine at home broke. A week went by, then two, then a month and we realized we were not enslaved to that little blinking red light every time we walked in the door, so we just decided to do without it. It made some of our friends very mad at us because it made more work for them to get in touch with us, but we were willing to trade their anger for our peace of mind. It seemed a good trade.

I used to think I needed a Blackberry, but my life is fine without one. I thought about an iPhone, but will it really deliver me what it promises? From the people I know who own them, I know more who want to give them up out of frustration. Am I sure I want that?

It is in this spirit that I wrote the following text and posted it above our kitchen:

We live in a fascinating age of progress and scientific discovery. Technology offers us better and faster ways to communicate and share information with one another all across the planet. Yet with all its advancement, we believe nothing will provide a better channel for meeting our deepest needs of communication like the timeless practice of sharing simple food and drink.

The point? Keep reign over technology and let it serve you, not vice versa. The result will be much more rich and fulfilling than the owning the latest operating system.

Bread and Cup's smells, plates, bottles overfloweth - Arts & Entertainment

Here's a recent review in our campus newspaper.

Bread and Cup's smells, plates, bottles overfloweth - Arts & Entertainment

The frost is on the pumpkin, and the hay is in the barn...

This week felt like Fall, which triggers an ensuing grief that I have to work at a little bit to overcome. I already anticipate the loss of warm weather, leisurely nights outside on the patio, and tasting the garden’s fruits, among other enjoyments that the colder temperatures will bring to a seasonal end.

But I do have to admit, however brief, that Fall brings some of its own beauty that is hard to rival during any other season. Fall is like Spring, only in the opposite direction. Its radiance is in due to decline instead of blossom. It is a signal of an oncoming Winter death, and Mother Nature pulls out all the stops to flaunt what She is capable of displaying.

Color is one of those seductive features She will unveil to us. I love to watch the way the summer light morphs into a glow as it bounces through leaves of shifting green to red and gold. The sharper grade of blue seen in the sky seems like a whole new mixture on the pallet. Even autumn produce of apples, squash, and pumpkins takes on hues that are more rich and noble.

Fall is nature’s way of taking a little break, of slowing down and preparing to be at rest for a season. Like a well written song, which displays a bridge or section of relief for the ears of the listener, so also Fall tells us that we, too, are due for a change from the unsustainable speed of production and consumption.

Watch for changes in our seasonal menu this month. The cinnamon-laden aroma of apple crisp, of sweet pumpkin muffins and savory squash soup might meet you at our door when you arrive. I still love the comment people make several times a day, “Wow, it sure smells good in here.”

That doesn’t get old.