It started with salmonella. Well, more specifically, how to know you are avoiding getting it. You see, I had been cooking chicken for this chicken tortilla soup recipe:Chicken Tortilla Soup (from evilchefmom)
1 onion, chopped
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 tablespoon olive oil
2 teaspoons chili powder
1 teaspoon dried oregano
1 28-oz. can crushed tomatoes (use about 2/3 of the can)
6 cups chicken broth
1/2 to 1 jalapeno pepper, finely chopped. Start off with a little and adjust to your taste
1 can black beans, rinsed and drained
about 4 corn tortillas cut into one inch squares (this will help thicken up the soup)
¼ cup chopped fresh cilantro
3 boneless chicken breast halves, cooked and cut into bite-sized pieces
salt and pepper to taste
Options:
crushed tortilla chips
sliced avocado
sour cream
shredded cheese (monterey jack, cheddar jack, mexican blend, cheddar, whatever)
chopped green onions
lime wedges to squeeze into soup
In a medium stock pot, heat oil over medium heat. Saute onion and garlic in oil until soft. Stir in chili powder, oregano, tomatoes and broth. Bring to a boil, and simmer for 5 to 10 minutes. Stir in corn tortillas, jalapeno, beans, cilantro, and chicken. Simmer for 10 minutes. Ladle soup into individual serving bowls, and top with the above options.
So. As I was saying. The boyfriend was asking me how I know when the chicken is done (and salmonellaless. Is that a word?) without cutting it open. Immediately unsure of myself, I responded with, "I just know."
"But how do you know?"
"You just know. It's one of those things you just know."
He headed off to the bathroom to relieve some of the Negro Modelo we had been drinking. I thought about it as I started cutting the chicken into bite-sized pieces. As I was cutting, it came to me. The chicken *feels* different. It feels a certain way when it's raw, it feels a certain way when it's cooking, and it feels a certain way when it's done.
Later:
"Is it Soup yet?"
"No."
"How do you know when it's Soup?"
"I just know. It's not Soup yet."
"But how do you know?"
"It smells like Soup."
"You know, you should write a blog entry about this."
Yes, I should. When the flavors have combined and the spices have bloomed and everything is married (merried if you're my mom) it *smells* different. It smells...complete. It smells balanced and pungent and flavorful. It smells like it will be enhanced by the garnish but will stand on its own.
Are there other senses for food? Yes. Haven't you ever had that moment loooking down at your plate and thought, "this lunch is too brown." Or, alternatively, "this could really use something green." I know I have.
The sound of bacon sizzling. Or of steamed milk getting close to the boiling point. Every morning when I make a latte, I hear the sound of...it's...just...about...to...boil... I stop it right before and it creates a wonderfully hot but not scalding espresso drink that fills my mouth with milky goodness. Yes, I said milky goodness.
Of course, there's taste. We can all taste when something isn't right. We can all taste when a dish explodes with spices. In fact, the more we eat, the more nuance of flavor we begin to understand. And I think being a cook gives you more insight into the other senses of food beyond that.
