Happy New Year!
I don’t know what you did on New Year’s Eve 2008, but I went searching.
Where was the Krug? The small tin of caviar? The smoked salmon? The bottle of Grand Eschezeaux? The filet?
It wasn’t at my house.
For all it’s enforced, required frivolity, New Year’s proved this time around to be a tentative, nervous-making affair for many, if not most of us. The papers are filled with dread and woe; no one I know is opening their 401(K) statements; I’ve tried to restrain myself from visiting Zillow.com every few minutes to see the devaluation on my humble abode; and if I hear NPR play that Stormy Weather tag once more, the way it does whenever it reports on the state of the markets, I’ll scream.
These days, there’s only one thing that’s making me feel better, and that’s getting into the kitchen, cooking something delicious, opening a decent bottle of wine, and hunkering down. But this elemental act is also not without its issues.
Those of you of a certain age will doubtless remember the beginning of the Mary Tyler Moore show in the 1970s, where she was seen standing over a meat case, picking through it and getting visibly disgusted at the price (probably 55 cents a pound for prime rib), and then throwing it into her cart anyway. This seems to be where we are these days, psychologically-speaking.
Think about it: have you changed your food shopping and cooking habits over the last few months and weeks? If so, how? In my house, I know we have (and I am not ashamed to say it). In fact, we take it as a challenge: we use everything–absolutely everything–we bring into our house. We take a cue from the restaurant world and repurpose our leftovers once, and sometimes twice so that at the end of the week, our fridge is nearly empty. Recently, we’ve taken to creating simple, spectacular, healthy, meals for virtually nothing. Inspiration has come from everywhere: my grandmother’s kitchen (did I know that her kreplach was stuffed with leftover brisket? Who knew.), ethnic cuisines from every corner of the globe from Thailand, India, and Vietnam to Cuba and Germany, vegetarian family and friends whose diets have necessitated that they eat far more consciously than the average fresser.
The result? We’ve produced scores of meals that have warmed our hearts, souls, and bank accounts. We’ve served ourselves and our friends, thrown staggeringly great dinner parties, filled our fridge and freezer, and have eaten very, very well, and whether the market is up or down, we’re not going back. Our mindset has changed, forever.
Welcome, then, to Poor Man’s Feast–your landing pad for delicious, daily writing about cooking and eating more intelligently, thoughtfully, and carefully. Every week, it will feature a handful of new recipes plus remarkable serving tips and repurposing ideas. It will include expert wine-writing on $12-and under bottles that will make you stop kvetching about the Chateau Lafite you used to drink before the market tanked. Simple, parsimonious dishes will reveal themselves as the everyday, luscious extravagances that they in fact really are.
So go ahead–get into the kitchen. Light a fire in the fireplace, pour yourself some wine, and stop worrying. We’re here to help.
The food world is tastier than ever.
Elissa Altman
