Food Rant: Balsamic Reduction

Wow, a second post in the same month!  This poor undernourished blog might survive after all.  So, what inspires this second bout of writing, you ask?  Well, once again, I have been confronted with those words so ludicrous and unwelcomed to the foodie soul: "it comes with a balsamic reduction."

The first time I encountered the concept of a balsamic reduction, I giggled to myself and said, "no, thank you."  Of course what I was really thinking was something more along the lines of "how sad!  They probably think they are actually being trendy and cool by offering that."  As I was confronted with more and more offers of balsamic reductions, always as additions to the most inappropriate and otherwise blameless foods, I start to lose my equanimity.  What in the world, I thought, is possessing these people?  Don't they know better?  Do they have any idea how ludicrous and completely "non-gourmet" they are making themselves?  My conclusion, of course, was "no, they haven't the least suspicion."  So here are my thoughts on the matter to help them (hehe, being pompous is fun!  Try it some time, but not where other people can actually get to you and slap you--that's why I'm doing it here.)

Okay, where was I?  Oh yes, my thoughts on the matter of balsamic reductions.  In the area around Modena in Italy, there is a tradition of vinegar making that produces, after an improbably long period of time, an unctuous, rich, complex nectar of the gods called "balsamic vinegar."  If you are Italian, or like to throw Italian words around, you can call it aceto balsamico.  Please, however, don't call it aceto balsamico tradizionale (in English, traditional balsamic vinegar) or "aged balsamic vinegar" or "authentic Modenese artisanal traditional barrel-aged special really-truly balsamic vinegar" or anything else that implies that something more than "balsamic" is needed to identify the vinegar as the good stuff.  Using all those other adjectives just encourages the people who take wine vinegar, toss in a little caramel and some artificial nonsense and call it "balsamic vinegar."  Balsamic vinegar already tells you what it is.  Just by being itself, it tells you that it is barrel-aged, it was made using a traditional method, that's it's authentic and from Modena.  What you learn when you first taste it is also something in the name: it is a balm, a nectar, a healer of the soul and a nourisher of the spirit.  As balsamic vinegar dances across your tongue and sends curling vapors of scent and taste to your nose, you get the impression of something that is rich and syrupy without being either of those things.  You get hits of sour that isn't sour, sweet that isn't sweet, and a hundred other flavors that all scream "summer!"  In other words, it's yummy.

So what, you may ask, is wrong with making a reduction?  Well, two things immediately spring to mind.  The first is simply that heating vinegar does not improve its flavor any more than cooking with wine improves the wine.  Why take something that is already at a state of perfection and then boil it down into submission and defeat?  I realize that there are some people in the world who actually define cooking in this way (think of that delectable roast that someone you know boiled for hours until it finally gave up and turned into a flavorless, grey piece of rubber, or the wonderfully crisp fresh string beans that were boiled for a couple hours until they also gave up and turned into flavorless, grey-green pieces of not-much-at-all).  Nevertheless, the fact that some people define cooking as "boiling things until they are flavorless and un-threatening, with no vestige of their former glory" doesn't mean it's right!  Just so, boiling balsamic vinegar to reduce it to a sweet-sour travesty of itself is just wrong.  And then, there is my second reason: balsamic vinegar is already a reduction!  That's what the whole "barrel-aged" and "traditional" method are about.  The vinegar makers of Modena take a rather insipid and uninteresting vinegar and over many years, age it in open barrels where it gradually is reduced and concentrated by evaporation.  This method of reduction has the exact opposite effect of the on-the-stove method: it adds flavor.  All those hundreds of flavor elements that makes balsamic vinegar the treasure it is are there because they crept into the liquid as it sat quietly in its barrels and got thicker and richer and more delicious.  Balsamic vinegar has been reduced by time and nature; it doesn't need a cook to help the process along.

So what is a good cook to do with this treasure?  Well, there are several things that come to mind.  The most obvious is the widely cited technique of drizzling a few drops on fresh fruit.  In the middle of the winter, when the strawberries are more white cotton than juicy redness, a few drops of balsamic can evoke memories of summer and pull out the rich true flavors of the strawberry.  I know people who love balsamic vinegar on melons, and I say "God bless 'em" and leave them to it (usually at a far enough distance that I don't have to smell the melons--more on that later).  Can you put it on salad?  Sure.  Can you put it on prosciutto slices? Why not?  Can you utterly enrage hundreds of years of national rivalry by drizzling a bit of balsamic vinegar onto the crispy, slightly-cracked, golden-brown skin of your perfectly sauteed bratwurst?  Well, I do!  Does it make your mushrooms happy?  Well, in my kitchen, the fried mushrooms and onions got up and danced an entire Disney medley when I added a little balsamic vinegar to them right at the end of cooking as I took them off the heat (since I bought the mushrooms at the supermarket, I'm reasonably sure the dancing and musical number was not their fault, but bear it in mind if your use of balsamic vinegar has less terpsichorean results).  As you can see, there are hundreds of ways of using balsamic vinegar that do involve the words "reduction."

Oh!  Here are some more ideas:

Fatoush my way:
3 large, juicy, flavorful tomatoes (Mt. Holy's are good)
1 green bell pepper (large and heavy for its size)
1-2 zucchini (heavy and young, none of this oversized seedy marrow business, you might only need one but buy the second one anyway)
a bunch of basil leaves (I leave it up to you to decide how much, basil is a pretty personal choice)
enough parsley to make a quarter-cup loosely chopped.
1-2 cloves of garlic (you know your taste--me, I prefer 2 cloves)
1 medium yellow onion or a bunch of scallions (with perky fresh green parts)

Now: here's how to proceed.  Cut the tomatoes into irregular bite-size pieces, discarding any pieces that the tough stem roots in it and scooping up all the juices that run over the cutting board and adding them to the big salad bowl where you are putting the pieces.  Quarter the pepper and discard the core and seeds and scrape out the white cottony parts, and then chop it into bite size pieces and add it to the bowl with the tomatoes.  Wash the zucchini again (I assume you have already washed it at least once by letting it sit in cold water for twenty minutes and then scrubbing it lightly with your hand...not with a brush!) under running water.  Trim the ends and discard them.  Cut the zucchini in half lenghtwise like you were splitting a log to make a canoe.  Check of for seeds.  If there are lots of them and they have started to toughen up, scoop them out and discard them (you'll now need two zucchini...aren't you glad you bought that second one?)  If the zucchini halves are very thick, cut them down their length again and then cut them crosswise into bite-size pieces. Put them in a non-reactive strainer and sprinkle them heavily with kosher salt (or whatever kind you use).  Leave them to drain over the sink while you rinse and chop the basil and parsley.  Make sure you don't chop them into fine pieces; stop when you've got pieces that are about a half-inch wide.  Add the herbs to the salad bowl.  Peel and mince the garlic and add it to the salad (it's starting to look more like a salad now, isn't it?)  Chop the onions, using either the single yellow onion or the scallions.  If you use the scallions, use the green leaves as well as the white parts.  At this point, you can check the zucchini.  If it appears to have sweated out a bit of juice and is a bit soft to the touch, go ahead and rinse it under cold water, shake it dry and then add it to the salad.  Otherwise, wait a bit longer until it has given up some more of its liquid.
Now, you are ready to dress the salad.  Sprinkle the salad with salt (I like to use sea salt at this point, but pickling or kosher will also work...so will table salt, if that's what you've got...just be careful because the anti-caking agents in table salt can give it a bit of a bitter flavor).  Taste as you add, since you can't really take the salt out once you've added it.  When it tastes good to you, add some good red wine vinegar, tasting as you go.  Dribble a bit of balsamic vinegar in at this point too.  Doesn't it taste like a bowlful of summer now?  Finally, drizzle it with your favorite extra-virgin olive oil (something rich and buttery with a powerful "green" flavor).
Finally, the fun part: serve the salad over shards of broken dried pita bread (or other dried breads that you happen to have laying around) and dig in.  If you can manage to do this on a hot sunny day, sitting outdoors under shade trees with a light breeze blowing, so much the better.
Oh, and if you want a delicious vegetarian meal, add bite-size chunks of cheese (I like extra-sharp white cheddar, but I'm sure that mozzarella or feta would also be nice) at the same time you add the tomatoes.  And the longer the salad sits, the better it gets.

Okay, that's my balsamic rant.  Until the next addition...

My perfect storm

Everyone keeps telling me, "you should have a blog!"  I, of course, immediately wonder, "how many dead or moribund blogs are floating around in cyberspace because of those words?  Do I really need to add one more to the list?"  Really, how many people have started a blog with high hopes, encouraged by their friends and acquaintances (and possible taking note of the financial success of such blogs as Orangette, Chocolate and Zucchini, and the Julie/Julia Project)?  And how many of those blogs, like the 19th century journals they replace, have slunk ignominously into the dark, trailing a sad little tail of short "I can't think of anything today; I'll write something later" posts that finally end in nothing? Does human culture, not to mention the "blogosphere" need yet another one of those tragic abortive beasts?  I've always thought not.

And of course, there's always the question: "what do I have to say to the world?"  Or perhaps, more accurately, "what do I have to say to the world that the world really wants to hear?"  Anyone who knows me (and that would include those people who keep urging me to start a blog) knows that I have a lot to say.  I'm fairly opinionated. In fact, as I write that phrase, due honesty compels me to admit that I probably go far beyond "fairly" and have, by now, merrily danced my way into the realm of "frighteningly" or at least "annoyingly" opinionated.  It occurs to me that perhaps some of my well-wishers are simply hoping that a blog will divert some of my opinions and make me a more charming and agreeable conversationalist.  I have one thing to say to that:  "HA!"  From scorn, I am laughing.  Have you ever met any blogger who got less opinionated as they wrote?  I certainly haven't. 

So, let's consider my trepidations.  Prime: there is the commitment to the blog.  Do I really have it in me to keep writing over a long period of time (for example, will I actually post something tomorrow or even next week?)  Seconde:  Will anyone care to read what I do have to say?  Tierce: What in the name of all that is holy will I write about? I guess I could do a sort of Joycean stream of consciousness approach and just write about whatever crosses my mind at the time, but that seems like the easy way out (and possibly also the easy way to join the slithering hordes of dead blogs out there in the darkness).  I can write about specific topics, but my obsessions tend to be oddly unrelated.  Is the world really ready for a blog that is dedicated to the culinary arts, architecture, language, and religious philosophy?  Especially if I throw in the occasional field trip into modern etiquette, book reviews, non-architectural art, traditional handicrafts, and my occasional bouts of pseudo-nostalgia for things that I never actually got to experience the first time around.  Gods!  I'm starting to look like someone who has managed to combine Attention Deficit Disorder with Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder and thrown the combination into the academic world.  Oh, wait, that is me!  Well, now you know.  Be warned.

So, by now, if you are still with me, you are no doubt asking, in tones that hint at varying degrees of dwindling patience, "Okay, so what does this have to do with a perfect storm."  Okay, here's the answer:  it's snowing.  Actually, that's misleading.  Outside my window right now, the snow is coming down at what the weather service estimates is a rate of one to three inches per hour.  It is landing on the twenty-one inches of snow that is already there. One phrase that has been bandied about in the news reports is that we are experiencing a "historical weather event."  So, on a Saturday, when I could be out shopping or doing other fun things, I'm sitting on my comfy Ikea loveseat, looking out the window at the--oh god, it's actually falling faster now--snow.  I just got off the phone with my dad where we were joking and talking about his many attempts at maintaining a blog (he's a brilliant software engineer and has no problem maintaining the blog in the technical sense, but he's one of those "every three years, I add a post, whether it needs it or not" type of blog writers).  He's always telling me that I should write a blog (yes, he's one of "them!")  At the same time, I've been reading some great books and, as I usually do when I read great books, I've been having opinions about them.  Plus, I've recently had several culinary experiences that have left me with more than a few mental diatribes.  Suddenly, a blog seems possible.  I have topics to write about, people encouraging me to write, and a weather system that is determined to keep me from doing anything else.

So, avanti!  Let's see what the future brings...