Snacks – I Thought There Would Be Free Food

A blue bowl full of artichoke pâté sits on a white plate. The bowl is surrounded by toasty brown crackers.

I believe in the power of semantics, that what we call things has power. The labels we assign others, and ourselves, are markers of identity—whether someone is in our “tribe” or not—and of value, good or bad, or right or wrong. Labels can be useful, but are often just a little bit too easy. They require us to strip away nuance, to reduce something down to our understanding of it. Sometimes we get this calculation right. More often, we get it wrong.

For an example of labeling gone wrong, as well as a rather stunning leap of logic, I offer: pâté. Ask my mother-in-law for her views on it and she’ll wax rhapsodically. Ask my Chief Recipe Taster and he’ll wrinkle his nose before murmuring darkly about 1950s-style Jell-O meat molds. So when my MIL pulled a container of “artichoke pâté” out of the fridge for appetizer hour this summer, it’s understandable that she was excited about it and he was not. But it was as unlike pâté as, well, Jell-O—just well-chopped artichoke hearts with a bit of garlic, parsley, and olive oil. We fell on it, slavering, and the little tub was gone before we’d finished our first glasses of wine. It was nothing like what you might label “real” pâté, and so good that my pate-hating Chief Recipe Taster asked whether I could mimic the stuff. A clearer case of mislabeling (both, perhaps, on the part of the producer as well as my taster) there never was.

Is it a bit of stretch to discuss the harmfulness of labelling vis-a-vis artichokes? Yes, my friend, I recognize that it is. But food is personal and the personal is political, and aren’t we in a moment here, one that calls us to rethink and reject labels? If we can’t start with pate, then how can we tackle the bigger issues?

Artichoke Pâté

Source: I Thought There Would Be Free Food

Makes 2 cups

Active time: ~5 minutes

Note: I make this pate in the food processor but you can also make it by hand. Just finely mince the garlic and chop the artichokes and parsley. Mix all of these together with the olive oil, and salt and pepper to taste.

Ingredients:

• 1 medium clove garlic

• 1 can water-packed artichokes, drained

• 1/4 c loosely packed parsley

• Olive oil (best quality—you’ll really taste it here)

• Salt and pepper, to taste

Directions:

• Blitz the garlic clove in the food processor until finely minced.

• Add the artichokes and parsley and pulse until both are well chopped.

• Drizzle in some olive oil and salt and pepper to taste. Pulse to combine.

• Give everything a good stir and then tip into a bowl. You can serve it straightaway or put it in the fridge for up to 24 hours.

Oats in a measuring cup, a glass jar of cinnamon and one of peanut butter, dates, and a bottle of vanilla sit on top of a wooden surface in front of a white wall.

I’ve been thinking about failing a lot lately, probably because it feels like I’ve had a higher-than-average spat of kitchen flops. There was the mushroom-leek soup with parsley dumplings the approximate weight of a collapsing star, the sourdough bread that didn’t rise, and the chocolate-cinnamon-pecan tart that led to an impromptu oven cleaning. Suffice it to say, the past few weeks of cooking have not been kind to me.

I don’t mind a kitchen failure or two; it’s just part of recipe development and growing as a cook. What I do mind is a failure that begets no lesson, so after mishap number three I spent some time considering what had gone wrong. Sure, there were issues specific to each dish, but there was one that was common to them all: I wasn’t really there.

Obviously I was in my kitchen physically, but mentally I was a million miles away during each of those fiascos, chewing over what had happened at work or rushing through cooking so I could get on with something else. My experience reminded me of everything that Ann Patchett said in this lovely little essay, which with hubris I will boil down to one sentence: if you want to do a task well, just do that task. While cooking or baking, do not start a serious conversation with your partner about how their day was; do not also open your mail; do not throw in a load of laundry, or even think about doing so. For however long it takes to cook the thing you’re cooking, just do that.

I am a person who believes that every minute of the day should be productive so calmly waiting for the onions to turn translucent over medium heat is a bit torturous because shouldn’t I just check my work email one more time? But to avoid future food failures, I made myself take a step back. I committed to spend 20 minutes doing only one thing, cooking, and started over with a simple recipe. I measured out all of my ingredients before I started, just as you’re supposed to do and I often skip over, and paid attention. I was rewarded with a not-flop—in fact a resounding success—to sustain me on the busy days when it seems that it will be impossible to do just one thing.

Peanut Butter-Date Energy Bites

Source: I Thought There Would Be Free Food

Makes ~20 bites

Total time: ~20 minutes

Ingredients:

3/4 cup old-fashioned oats
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2–1 teaspoon salt, to taste
10 ounces dried, pitted dates
1/2 cup peanut butter (I used natural, but other varieties should work as well)
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Directions:

Halve the dates, then set them aside.
Put the oats, cinnamon, and salt in the bowl of a food processor and process until the oats are finely ground into uniform nubs.
Add the dates, peanut butter, and vanilla extract and process until a cohesive mixture forms. You might need to stop and scrap down the sides of the food processor once or twice.
Grab a small handful of the mixture and tightly compress then roll into a ball. You may need to compress the mixture once or twice before rolling, or it will crumble a bit; you should end up a Ping Pong-sized ball. Repeat as needed.
Place the finished bites into a seal-able container and let them firm up in the refrigerator for at least 30 minutes before enjoying.