We didn’t always eat this way
Latkes, chruschich, pfefferneus, fruitcake, baked ham with a pineapple glaze, turkey with oyster stuffing … we didn’t always eat this way.
The Flavour Guy is grumpy, trying to put things in balance knowing that the end of the month will bring on a couple of kilos of parties, family fêtes, and late night, very enjoyable binges.
The festive season is for feasting. We once balanced feasts (from the Latin for joyful or merry) with fasts (meaning self-control). Christians have Lent, Jews look to the 9th of Av, the Fast of Esther, and Yom Kippur. Muslims celebrate Ramadan. Many Hindus fast when there is a full moon. I remember when good Catholics did not eat meat on Friday. For Erev Shabbos (Sabbath Eve), we might serve chicken but there was a large jar of gefilte fish if my friend Jean-Pierre came over.
While this was partly religious – it’s hard to be penitent with a full belly – there just wasn’t the amount of food we take for granted.
When grandfather Berel arrived from Eastern Europe a century ago, he left behind a village where greens were eaten in the summer, root vegetables in the fall and fresh meat or fish was, at best, a weekly indulgence. Forget about “the hundred mile diet.” If it grew, swam, flew, or walked (with varying restrictions) you ate it.
The smoked meat we drool over in Montreal is made with one of the toughest cuts from a cow. This is peasant fare. No one back then said “I’d like it lean.” The Yiddish proverb “When a poor man eats a chicken, one of them is sick” makes sense in any poor country today.
Early immigrants to North America were astonished that they could get meat at breakfast, lunch and dinner: bacon and eggs, a hamburger, a nice piece of chicken. What a country! In the old land, only the very rich could eat meat daily. Here anyone could... and three times a day! This was a sign that they had arrived in the promised land. It was the end of the fast.
Those caught in the transition – from old country to new – relished this unending feast because they remembered doing without. It’s there in images, in photographs of older generations who look a little thinner, a little smaller than us. It’s there in the steady gaze, a remonstration that we have it good.
Today, having lost the memory of the fast, the grump in me asks: are we really enjoying the feast? Fortunately there are a couple of bummers coming around – Advent, the 10th of Tevet – check your religious calendar. With so much feasting ahead, there might be a day or two to push the plate away.
Most fasts don’t mean doing completely without, but restricting the diet to basic foods – no meat, no oil – to aid contemplation. As Satchel Paige put it “Don’t eat fried food, it angries up the blood.”
Here’s a dish to help set things in balance. It’s strong on flavour but weak on indulgence. Take a thick piece of stale bread, toast it severely but not burnt. Rub a half clove of garlic over both sides while it is still hot. The garlic will ooze into the toast. Put the toast on top of a bowl of hot vegetable or chicken broth. Add a little grated cheese. Sip slowly and think sublime.
You can reach the Flavour Guy at flavourguy@theseniortimes.com.
Labels: Barry
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