Volitional viands

This post marks a milestone of 50,000 visitors to my online cookbook blog! Thank you so much for sharing this culinary journey with me.

Cooking, to me, is usually a blend of alchemy and meditation. Most my dishes come out different each time I prepare them as I'm learning, exploring, playing with new gadgets or ingredients.

While growing up, I was fortunate to have a Mom who was an amazing cook. She wasn't as big on flair as I tend toward, but hearty, wholesome, and healthy meals to feed a hard-working farm family of four. I was allow to assist on occasion, usually the holiday meals, but Mom was definitely in command of her kitchen.

After moving to California, I enjoyed dabbling in my kitchen but nothing truly serious. Until one coworker (who's name I've long forgotten) shared some of her abundant and abundantly large zucchinis from her garden. Our director started a friendly competition for title of Best Zucchini Bread. I must admit, if you do not know me personally, I'm a tad competitive. While I doubt my attempt was remotely close to being the "best," I was encouraged on several levels.

I became the guy who brings the most evil (read: fatting, delicious, diet-destorying) temptations to the office. Word wafted like the smell of a freshly baked pie. My last corporate gig commenced with my hiring manager requesting a pecan pie as part of my interview process, and the job was for a technical writer position. My referral came from a friend and former coworker with a tales of my hobby.

This blog began as somewhat of a joke. When my "dish" and I started dating, my Mom requested he ensure I eat well. (I'm a skinny guy, and Mom worries!) At first we were posting photos to Facebook, with the occasion "how did you fix that?" prompting me to post the recipe. The blog formed so that I wouldn't lose record and recipes if Facebook goes belly up eventually.

After 5 1/2 years, I consider Dishes with My Dish to be my compendium cookbook of cookbooks. At the time of this posting, there are approximately 493 recipes available.

Before I return to my normal laconic presentation mode, another element of blogging that continuely keeps me amused: Stats! Pity not all of my 50,000 views are from humans.

volitional viands

True story: As a boy, I wanted to be a chemist. The yearning kicked in around five or so. Already by that age, I had a reputation for leaping before looking with my grand schemes and experiments. Curiosity ruled my noggin before I learned a little control and focus. But I jump ahead...

Around my seventh year, I participated in the annual Payne County Fair as usual by representing the family Randy Mill Farm showing our dairy cattle. As a country boy, the fair was a welcome break from the never-ending toil of the dairy farm. As part of the tradition—and because I had buckets of spare time due to caring for seven or a dozen cows—I carefully explored each of the fair's exhibit halls. Quilts made by locals. Prized garden produce. Local artwork in every medium. And bugs, carefully labeled and pinned to Styrofoam in little display cases.

That's where my ambition got the best of me. Bugs. I had won all sorts of other awards, but entomology! Such magnificent looking creatures, and I'm a bit of a collector of oddities anyway, so why not?!

The first step, create a "kill" jar. I'd taken out scorpion with alcohol-soaked cotton balls in glass jars. I wanted something even better, for reasons that still escape my memory. Again, living on a dairy, I had access to some reasonably potent chemicals that were used for cleaning equipment. So I decided to mix a couple of them: chlorine and acid, to be specific. High strength stuff, too, combined in a Braum's ice cream bucket with my face right over it. Breathing it in nicely.

Years later, I would discover I created something called chlorine gas. Its long history in war as a chemical weapon is a bit daunting.

After this experience, and the resulting days in the local ER in an oxygen tent, my parents quietly attempted to redirect my interests. Hence:

Cooking!

American Native fry bread

Forgive my Food Network moment, which requires every dish to have a story. I have a long-standing love of "Indian" tacos, thanks to the Natives at the Oklahoma State Fair. Their overtaken fort within the fairgrounds was near magical to me as a boy.

Raised near the Indian Meridian, I grew up with Natives, schooled with them, and according to family lore, have a bit of their blood in my mix. I admire the different tribes' rich histories, some more than others, including the songs and dances. However, the passage of time, even when I was a boy, diminished the accurately retold history of grief European immigrants heaped on them. The numerous dislocated tribes in Oklahoma were a chapter in my state history book, and it wasn't a very thick book. They were the names of towns, streets, and such, which only the Natives and Oklahomans seem to intrinsically know how to pronounce (Tahlaquah, Muskogee, Oologah, and Tishomingo, to name a few, roll from the tongue).

Sadly, the story behind Navajo fry bread is one of sorrow and pain. Frighteningly, this story is bleak in both the past (being based on rations to prevent tribal starvation), and present (diabetes and obesity based on poor diet). As mouth-watering good as the taco ingredients piled on top of fry bread can be, this dish should only be enjoyed once or twice a year. To be true to the original, and achieve the correct flavor, lard is used. I prefer Crisco, which to me is a reasonable middle ground between a flavorless fry bread from corn oil, and a fatty one from lard.

Basic recipe:

Flour, unbleached	1 cup +
Salt	¼ teaspoon
Milk, powdered	1 teaspoon
Baking powder	1 teaspoon
Water	½ cup
Oil for frying

1. Sift together the dry ingredients together in a large bowl.
2. Pour in all the water at once, and stir with a fork until it starts to form one big clump.
3. Flour your hands well, and work in all the flour to form a ball without kneading the dough.
4. Divide the ball into fourths.
5. Using floured hands, stretch, pat, and shape a piece of dough into a flat disk, about 5 to 7 inches in diameter, and then poke a hole in the middle with your thumb.
6. In a Dutch oven, add oil to a depth of 1 inch, and heat to 350°F.
7. Fry the dough disk, one at a time, for about 3 to 4 minutes per side.

After the fry bread is prepared, toppings can get creative. Traditionally, for tacos, it's layers of thick beefy tomato chili, shredded lettuce, orange cheese, and then diced tomatoes and onions (check out The Pioneering Woman for a great photo blog of the process). Some folks dust the fry bread with powdered sugar or cinnamon and sugar, but I seldom go that route. (Beignets or funnel cakes sate my dessert fry bread cravings.)

One of my first dishes dumped on this blog without a recipe.

Not prone to fixing the same dish the same way twice, this time I'm starting with a 48-hour marinated bison top sirloin, grilled to perfection and then thinly sliced, as my first layer. Spring greens and herb mix next. Then, a fresh heirloom tomato salsa. Orange cheese of choice for the top: jalapeño cheddar!