For a wannabe cook, French cuisine is every bit like a video game’s level boss–if not, the ultimate level boss. There are many reasons for this: intimidating, uncertain, requires too many ingredients, and too much tools and techniques. But perhaps first among all these multitude of reasons why the cuisine of France makes idiots out of trying hard cooks is time.

French cooking requires a lot of time. And if a person could not even spare a minute to crush a clove of garlic, that person will be eaten alive by French cuisine.

While other world cuisines require as much dedication and skill as French cuisine, none compares to the latter’s requirements of multi-stage preparations and cooking methods. It is a cuisine that takes so much time to create yet renders so little. But little the product may be, it could be the greatest little thing one could ever eat.

So for me who is interested in cooking my own meals for the rest of my life and leave behind a life dependent on takeout counters and frozen TV dinners, a firm grasp of the philosophy of French cuisine is imperative because as they say: If you can do French, you can do anything–or perhaps, even anyone.

This is the precise reason why yesterday (Sunday) Sheryl Mae and I decided to face this gargantuan level boss. I thought if we could pull off a multi-course French dinner menu, and get good results, we will most likely be able to sustain this home cooking and local eating lifestyle.

It wasn’t easy. And by the time we bought all the ingredients and tools on Saturday, we knew there was no turning back.  So the freaking out started. We could totally mess everything up and instead of having guests happy with their Brie, we might end up having Brie on our faces. The possibility of tragic failure and embarrassment made us sweat like a party-addict student searching the vast void for something to put on a blank test paper. We were nervous and petrified.

“What the hell are we doing,” I thought. “Why can’t we just feed these guests ready made pizza, twinkies, and softdrinks?

Boeuf Bourguignon, Salade Aux Larde, Sardine Aux Amandes, Brie En Croute, and Mousse Au Chocolat. That’s a tall order! And for a couple who used to believe that eating out of cardboard boxes was the hippest thing to do next to smoking weed naked, cooking dishes that we couldn’t even pronounce seemed like a virus free Windows PC– an impossibility.

But if we are really serious in changing our lives and hopefully contribute to our local food economy and help improve our environment, we need to learn how to cook.

Given the dishes we decided to make and serve, we divided our tasks to achieve an efficient workflow. Both of us will do the prep work, I will take care of the salad, the main dishes, and the cheese course, while Sheryl Mae will handle the dessert.

It was so timely that come Sunday afternoon, friends of ours, Gatch and Teresa, stopped by and gave me a gift: a professional cutlery set.

Damn those nice sexy blades!

As I held on to the virgin stainless steel chef’s knife and saw my reflection on the cold shiny object, I felt the uncontrollable urge to cut anything in sight. But thankfully, I controlled my urge and instead proceeded to cut the grass-fed beef for the bourguignon.

While I was trying my best to handle the work, Sheryl beat the egg whites like she was beating a purse-snatcher–to death! As a result, she got a nice firm and fluffy meringue perfect for the Mouse Au Chocolat. She also melted dark chocolate using a glass bowl on top of a pot of steaming water.

And since we were doing this French thing, Sheryl Mae even dressed to look the part: with curls and flowers on her hair, bright lipstick, high-heels, and a chilled bottle of Rosé that she drank every once in a while. And at one time she got a little too tipsy, her face almost fell over the bowl of melted chocolate.

As for me, I fired up my Mac and played some Parisian Jazz music and danced to it while I sautéed the mushrooms and work on the baguette dough.

Damn we were definitely having a blast!

The bourguignon took about six hours to make. I followed every step in the recipe and was anal with every ingredient. Beurre Manié?  Boquet Garni? All there.

Same with the other dishes: Brie? Puff pastry? Toasted almonds? Wine? Not a single ingredient was missing, not a single step missed.

We started the whole thing at around 11 Am, and plated everything at 9 PM, minutes before the guests arrived. And when they did, they all ate our offerings at once. And judging from their reactions, it appears we have conquered the boss. The guests were enthralled by the smell of the freshly made baguettes and as I hoped, used the crusty bread to wipe their plates clean of the hearty bourguignon sauce.

The Brie En Croute was a hit, so was the sardine dish and the Salad Aux Lard. But the showstopper was Sheryl Mae’s Mousse au Chocolat. Some guests even fought for seconds. But in true French etiquette, she regretfully told them that there were no seconds. One guest even eyed one of my new shiny blades with the obvious intention of throwing it directly between my eyes. Well, not really. But in the end everyone was happy. They liked the food, and we totally loved making it for them.

And when all the guests had gone, the two wannabe cooks sat on the table, sipped some freshly brewed coffee and heaved a deserving sigh of relief. We winked at each other as if silently confirming that indeed we had done it. Well, in all modesty, we think we really did. So now we can safely say that this new lifestyle can definitely see future.

We had so much fun cooking together that we didn’t even realize that Sunday was Valentine’s Day. Well, we usually don’t celebrate the holiday because we simply don’t believe it. But if we ever do celebrate the day again, we would certainly opt for cooking together again instead of the standard roses, Valentines card, a movie, and a dinner out.

Cooking is now something we truly believe in. Sheryl Mae sees macarons in her near future, while I see Cassoulet.

All in all, after having our own French revolution in the kitchen that turned our world around, I personally think that there is another reason far more important than time when it comes to cooking. And in true French fashion, that reason has to be Amour.

So as planned, I told Lady in Red last night that I won’t need more of her Baby Ruth bars.

She didn’t like it.

She said I should have told her earlier so she didn’t have to buy truckloads of them. Well, she didn’t growl or transform into a green She-Hulk, but I could tell from her expression that she wanted her living space clear of anything resembling my face.

I did say sorry, told her what I felt in the smoothest of ways (perhaps even smoother than The Most Interesting Don Equis Man in the World), and she seemed okay at first. But when I told her that I haven’t been eating the candy bars she had given me for quite a while now, and that I have kept them all in the fridge with no clue where to take them, that was when she murmured something in the vicinity of the word asshole.  I paid no mind. I knew what was coming. Well, not really.

You see, now, she wants all her candies back. Yes, all $80 plus dollars worth of Baby Ruth bars.

It would be awesome if I still have these goodies, but no, I threw them all out last Sunday! So, I have a very strong feeling that I’m screwed!

Of course, unless I shell out 80 bucks to buy something I don’t believe in, I’ll be fine. But I am not even considering it. $80 can buy me a whole month’s supply of great natural and local foods! No! I am not doing that! It would be like me donating money to help fund the search for the skeletal remains of Snuffaluffagus. No way!

I think I’ll just ignore her altogether. I mean, what could possibly happen? Will she bind me and force-feed me with M&Ms until I render a fatty and chocolaty liver?

I have been introduced to this after seeing Food Inc and I am still in the process of learning more about it.

So based from what I understand as of now, I would try to share what I know about this new grass-fed buzzword that is taking the food industry by storm. But let me begin by writing what grass-fed beef is not:

• It is not meat coming from cows who satisfy themselves on a field flourishing with high–potency–designer quality marijuana.  Therefore, It does not come from cows that are tripping all day, bobbing their heads slowly as they hear unusual hidden sounds while fully grasping the meaning of The Beatles’ Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds. No, these cows are not potheads. They do not laugh for hours long just by looking at their dung, nor sway along to the movements of the cosmic force, but yes, they are happy.

• It is not meat rich in scandalous amounts of fat. Since the standard grading of beef today is based on marbling, which is the amount of fat in its meat, I am pretty sure that grass-fed beef will flunk and probably get an F from the USDA, just like my grades in high school. You see, grass-fed cows move a lot. They do so because they roam around the vast fields of grass picking the best species of grass that they desire. Once the grass in one patch gets consumed, these cows move on to the next appetizing salad bar. Therefore these cows are muscular, lean, and lacking of the fat that is of high value in today’s standards.

• It is not cheap meat. Local grass-fed beef is expensive–about twice the price of conventional corn-fed-feedlot beef. It is expensive not because it is bloated with premium fat, but because the human labor involved in growing the pastures allowing the cow to graze, and keeping everything in nature balance is costly. It is costly because it is clean, safe, and free from E-Coli worries.

Why grass-fed?

Cows evolved to eat grass in as much as modern humans evolved to eat Doritos and I Can’t Believe It’s Butter, which should be renamed as “I Can’t Believe I Am Eating This.”

These cows can transform pure chlorophyll into protein. Likewise, these cows don’t need antibiotics to defend themselves from diseases because they get their natural defenses from the greens they are eating.

Sadly, most of the beef we eat here in the US are not grass-fed but rather corn/grain fed. The beef industry adapted this new feeding system to speed up the growth of the cows to meet the demand of the fast food industry. In addition, to accommodate this new system, the industry introduced the feedlot system, where cows are confined into military barracks-like sheds and get fed there with millions of tons of surplus corn feeds.

Corn-fed cows require hormones and antibiotics to supplement their nutritional deficiencies resulting from eating non-grass feeds. Not to mention that the milk from these nutritionally deficient cows is equally deficient, hence the industry adds the missing vitamins in the milk after the fact. That’s why we have processed milk laden with every imaginable additive to compensate for the missing goodies.

For a more complete understanding of grass-fed beef visit this awesome site.

By the way, my order finally came last night from Udder Milk. I ordered some grass-fed beef for stewing, and some ground beef for making hamburgers. Oh, how I miss having burgers! I haven’t eaten any since last year! It will be my first time making homemade burgers using organic locally available ingredients: local grass-fed beef, local cheese, and locally grown produce and fresh bread.

In my past life, homemade burgers for me meant pre-packaged patties, supermarket ketchup, pre-bottled mustard, grocery mayo, and wonder buns. I know, I should have just walked into a McDonald’s and ordered me a triple angus burger and fries and save me the effort of assembling this pre-made things since the nutritional value of my homemade burgers and the ones in the store are just about the same.

But that was then and I am trying my best to eat well now.

I also ordered grass-fed raw milk and raw cheese.

I haven’t tasted any of the beef products, so I cannot write about it yet. But the raw milk and the cheeses are beyond belief. I can’t even put it into words! For now I’ll just write this to describe it: $%QO&#!!!!

Grass-fed beef is available also at our local Whole Foods Market. I already purchased some locally grown grass-fed beef shanks for soup last month. You have to remember that most grass-fed beef are local–meaning supplied by a farmer near you area. This way, you are also helping the environment by minimizing the use of petroleum to obtain your food.  Imported beef from Argentina? California? No need. It pays to know that you have a local supply of healthy and happy herd of cows grazing over nutritious pastures making high quality meat for you in the future.

Tomorrow, we might check the farmer’s market in Union Square and buy some produce. This food search has been really awesome so far!

In a world… where movie theaters offer healthy food…

The place was festive as usual. Bright colored balloons hovered overhead and kids played around with reckless abandon–tumbling on trampolines, throwing light rubber balls, shrieking with unfathomable delight and gliding down a big plastic tube slide. It was a wonderland in a restaurant–Heaven on earth.

Amid the happy chaos and happy meals, there I was, all grown up, jumping for joy with a balloon tied on my left wrist and a juicy, aromatic triple decker burger with cheese and mayo in my right hand. I gave the signature burger one hard stare and attacked with full rigor and sincerity. When I emerged from my purposeful first bite on that greasy treasure of a sandwich, my face was decorated by colorful condiments of yellow, red, and white like I was a citizen of the United Colors of Benneton.

And oh, that first bite! As my teeth sank into that multi-layered food, the 100% all-beef patty gave a cute little resistance like a young girl playing hard to get. When it gave in, it exploded with all the goodness only a legendary fast food item could provide. It was delicious.

But that’s not all. There was another set of combo moves that could top that first bite experience. Expert fast food regulars like me referred to this as the Sick Choke Combo.

Let me explain.

The idea was to eat the burger and the French fries in alternating modes. Take a bite on the burger, and then stuff a handful of fries in your mouth. This would go on until the burger and the fries were no more– and there was no drinking–yet.

To complete this combo, you had to push the stagnant food in your mouth and throat down to your tummy with the ice-cold sugary innovation of man that is called soda. Regular Coke was the hardcore choice, of course. And then, as the food slowly traveled down your esophagus, a spoonful of hot fudge sundae would seal the deal. In today’s lingo: FTW!

We admired fellow junkies who could accomplish this combo with style. One favorite of mine, a friend named Toto, grooved to the complex rhythms of Antonio Carlos Jobim’s One Note Samba while performing the trick. Really smooth!

There was nothing better than this for us fast food junkies.

You see, even back then, I adored food–in a wrong kind of way. Not to mention that the food I romanced then is now universally known as junk. I could be in denial about this for as long as I can– or until my first stroke or my first symptoms of blindness due to diabetes. I knew all along that what I was putting in my body were unhealthy. But I could not accept it. I was like loving the wrong girl for all the wrong reasons.

Now I am taking steps to accept this truth and change my lifestyle. That is why I am posting these stories out to the vast cyber universe– to remind me where I was and where I am going.

If I don’t remind myself, heaven help me, I am scared I might  go full circle and live the fast food junkie’s life all over again.

Last night I made French onion soup for the first time using a classic recipe. It was a lot of work but totally worth the sweat.

For two medium crock bowls, I did these:

• Roasted beef shin bones (I saved the bones from an earlier beef recipe) until it browned, which was quite a while.

• Placed the roasted bones and bits in a pot with some carrots, celery, parsley, salt, pepper. Added water until it was covered then simmered the thing until all the goodies came out. One hour? Even two perhaps?

•After the simmering, I strained the bones and bits and collected the stock from it, then reduced the liquid until it became concentrated.

• While reducing the stock, I browned some onions in a skillet filled with raw butter for 30 minutes. Added minced garlic, thyme, bay leaves and a bit of dry white wine.

• Then I combined the stock and the caramelized onion (onions browned this way is indeed sweeter than love) in the two crock bowls. Then  topped  with slices of baguettes, added grated gruyere, then shoved the bowls into a 350 degree broiler until the cheese bubbled.

• Finally, I took the bowls out of the broiler and garnished the soup with chopped parsley.

I started the process at 7:30 PM, and was slurping my soup at 12:34 AM. Five hours and four minutes all in all.

Before my search for real food commenced, I would have driven through my nearest fast food joint, or better yet, called my favorite Chinese take out dive and ordered item number 55 with soda, egg drop soup, and a complimentary fortune cookie. Or even more convenient, I would have opened a can of soup.

But I guess convenience is not really what I am after for this time. I believe convenience does not go well with eating well. Convenient food does not mean quality food. It just means quick and easy.

I think, like our ancestors, we have to work for our food. The amount of work I put in dicing, slicing, roasting, simmering, reducing, broiling and plating the soup does not equal the amount of food I produced, which is considerably less–as I said, two bowls.

However, the quality of the thing was beyond words. It was rich, sweet, succulent, and clean. In fact,  I spent another two hours after my very late soup dinner mentally savoring the final product like I was mentally ill.

The meal was even more special because I  chose the ingredients myself and knew every step of the way from the market to my table. And the meal was not expensive at all. Remember that I used bones that I saved and some loose veggies to make it. If there was a pricey ingredient, it would be the Gruyere, but I did not use all of my Gruyere. I still have a lot left.

Labor wise, yes, it was expensive. Five hours of work. But I felt good doing it.

If I had chosen to take the fast and convenient way, I would have spent those five hours sitting on my couch, stuffing myself with mystery food from God knows where while improving my rankings in Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2.

To toil for your food is good. Perhaps that is why most people from other nations are healthier than us. Most of them sweat for their food while we get spoon-fed by the fast food nation. Perhaps that is why they don’t get fat and sickly because they shed more calories in preparing their food than what they get eating it. Plus the privilege of knowing all about the food you eat and even participating in its processing is priceless.

More so, cooking for people you care for makes tremendous  sense.

If there is any real struggle in this quest to eat real and healthy food, it is the struggle to avoid junk. It is the epic battle, the ultimate confrontation, and the war to end all wars. I am fighting it.

If Junk Food Anonymous exists, it would be me who would have founded it. Yes, I am a recovering addict. I dug my claws into every bag of that stuff and grabbed the chips like how a trapeze performer would grab the arms of his or her partner after a mid-air somersault.

I ate microwaveable popcorn like everyone else: grabbing a handful and stuffing it all in my mouth with speedy precision. The only difference was I did it with a sinister grin.

I was addicted like that. I felt like I have taken advantage of the world every time those pieces of Doritos cracked inside my mouth. I felt victorious–high like a cokehead. I ate junk with purpose-with conviction.

Now, I am off it. Thanks to the wealth of information I acquired about the many evils of unreal food. But do I ever get tempted to wash down a mouthful of chicken nuggets with bubbly soda? Hell, yeah. Everyday. It is like the devil himself assigned several of his minions to tempt weaklings like me to open that can of soda, dance around a tray of Lays, stuff myself with nuggets.

It is real war. A real struggle. Here I am, resisting multi-billion dollar companies that spend fortunes on marketing so that I succumb to my cravings. I flip a magazine page and lo and behold, a glossy advertising spread of a gorgeous girl in a bikini somewhere in a tropical island munching on corn chips. I stare, I shake, and I drool. I open my smart phone and there it is again:  a buy one take five special offer from a popular doughnut store.

We all know how bad junk food is. It causes diabetes, hypertension, heart ailments, and cancer, and yet, it is still out there being marketed to all of us like we need it. Heroin kills but we don’t see billboards promoting it. Neither do we see a Superbowl commercial exalting the wonders of Speedball. Or a cannabis TV spot with mayor Bloomberg saying he approves the message.

When I checked the ingredients of most of my favorite junk, I was convinced that these are killers on the loose. There is nothing natural about this food. It is a creation of the industry to make money out of surplus corn and make each and every one of us size XXXL.

Here’s a breakdown of the ingredients that make up a bag of Doritos Tortilla Chips Natural Ranch and you’ll see:

Ingredients:

Whole Corn, Vegetable Oil (Contains One or More of the Following: Corn, Soybean and/or Sunflower Oil), Corn Maltodextrin, Salt, Tomato Powder, Corn Starch, Lactose, Whey, Nonfat Milk, Corn Syrup Solids, Onion Powder, Sugar, Garlic Powder, Monosodium Glutamate, Cheddar Cheese (Milk, Cheese Cultures, Salt, Enzymes), Dextrose, Malic Acid, Buttermilk, Natural and Artificial Flavors, Sodium Acetate, Artificial Color (Including Red 40, Blue 1, Yellow 5), Sodium Caseinate, Spice, Citric Acid, Disodium Inosinate, and Disodium Guanylate.

Wow, some of the stuff looks like when mixed together could create a nuclear bomb.  What are these? Red 40, Blue 1, Yellow 5- sounds like Bioman to me.

Disodium Inosinate and Disodium Guanylate? These are MSGs in disguise.

Now let’s compare this to the ingredients of a real traditional homemade tortilla.

Ingredients:

For the corn flour (Nixtamal)

3 cups dry corn kernels

6 cups water

2 heaping tsp. pickling lime

When the dough is made, they combine it with these:

pinch of salt
1 cup warm water.

Wow! That’s it! What a difference!

All the ingredients are familiar. So familiar, I think I can make tortillas myself. Perhaps, I could bake these so it becomes crunchy like chips? I don’t know.  Of course it wont be as tasty and perhaps as addictive as Doritos, but at least it is real and not some thing made up of Biomen and atomic bombs.

As I continue my struggle to keep myself junk food free, I do hope that many of you dear readers are in a similar quest to know what’s in the food you are eating. We deserve to know what we eat.

Links: Doritos Tortilla Chips  ingredients • homemade tortilla ingredients/recipe.