Showing posts with label op ed. Show all posts
Showing posts with label op ed. Show all posts

Tuesday, May 7, 2013

Drinking it All In...

Hooray, today I'm turning the podium over to my favorite traveling partner and teacher of many things...my husband, Ed.

This last year, we've had the pleasure of sampling location-specific libations on several continents. It got me to thinking ... about how food and drink culture at home are probably the most directly influenced by our travels.

Sure, I may love the head scarves in Jordan; but, I'm not necessarily going to don one the moment I return home from a trip to Petra. However, I will stock my pantry with pandan leaf, kefir lime, and shrimp paste after a trip to Bali.
(I have the overstuffed freezer to prove it.)

The memory of travel infuses our kitchen with just as much impact as when juniper infuses gin -- and our potential enjoyment of cocktail hour has never seemed brighter, as a result.



I call this pic of Ed, in St. Maarten, "Triste de Coco" (Sad Coconut)
Perhaps he thought it should be full of rum!

So, I'll hand the pen over to my own Master of the Mix, whose understanding of the liquid arts never ceases to impress.

Enjoy,

Ilana


***

Noted mixologist, botanist, and author Eben Klemm once said to me, "everything starts out as beer." Looking past me at the bottles situated neatly atop a glowing lit shelf, he continued. "I mean originally they were plants. But you can make anything with sugar into alcohol. In theory you could make cocktails out of this chair."

He was right. Trees are plants. And they make great chairs. Some even make good spirits.

Then, he asked me to pull a draft beer into a pint glass for demonstration.

"The Egyptians used to take rye or wheat and shove it into a clay pot. They would fill it with water and add some yeast to hasten its spoilage. Then they would rest it in the sun. Those were the first vats. Then they would stick a reed in it and suck the beer from the bottom. It was a simple process. And it took the edge off after a hard day of building the pyramids." Then, at 9:30am in his place of employment, he took a satisfying sip of modern, craft beer. The juxtaposition of images was perfect.

We've come a long way, since reeds in clay pots!

Persians would later discover distillation, or how to evaporate only the alcohol out of this substance, and use it as a base for their valuable perfumes. (Eventually some folks started drinking their perfumes. Many Arabs still do to avoid getting busted in Conservative States).

With this knowledge of distillation, spirits were born. Political factors drove drinking away from what is now Iran (as well as the versatile grape Syrah). But Europe would refine these ideas in their monasteries and on their powerful ships. Those ships would discover the new world where, as all good things that go in your mouth, necessity created the cocktail.


At Ilana's speakeasy-themed prohibition birthday party.
We drank out of teacups to disguise our tipples.

If Jazz is America's only true art form, the cocktail is our only true cuisine. Sometime during the westward expansion, local whiskey was predictably horrible -- if not dangerous -- to drink. Ice was not available. Fresh fruit or juice was scarce. But there were bottles of other stuff in most saloons. Fortified wines like Vermouth had indefinite shelf lives. Pickled items like olives and cherries could be counted on not to kill you weeks later.

Occasionally an orange or a lemon from a new place called California could be muddled in a sugar cube and balanced with bitters. Add even your least favorite whiskey and kick back. Thus the original cocktail was born. A recipe so antique that we now refer to it by its nickname: an "old fashioned."


I have been trained by famous sommeliers and managed fashionable wine cellars. But my love and knowledge of where these libations all come from would change forever when the love of my life decided to drag me all over the world. She's an anthropologist and a world traveler. And her love of what makes us who we are and my love of what makes us forget who we are all came together in far away locales, both exotic and familiar.

Some choice bottles from our recent stay in Tuscany.

Brunello in Tuscany? Yes please. What goes well with Palm spirits? Turns out it's aromatic ginger and pandan leaf. Where is the best ice wine in the world from? Canada. Everywhere in the world something can be washed down, knocked back, and simply savoured. Even the chair, should it come to that.

The Green Pandan & The Carambola, at Mozaic Restaurant
(Ubud,  Bali)

Remember, it's a big world -- drink it up!

Ed


The “Packing List”

This week, we were rocking the following:






Tuesday, September 25, 2012

*Pop* Goes the Culture

Well, I've been writing about our trip to Bali a lot lately; and, while there's still MUCH more to share, I thought I'd take a little departure to talk a bit about what I do.

It's probably the question asked of me most, "What does an anthropologist do?" A close second would definitely be, "What does a travel host do?" And, honestly, the answers to both questions are really the same. I study people and talk about them. I study their culture, mainly. But that includes a pretty giant swath of goodies...rituals, traditions, religions, stories, histories, etc...

Well, that all sounds noble enough; but, there is a also a dirty little secret involved with the more modern element of my chosen career. A side of anthropology that often had my classmates at Columbia rolling their eyes. And, oh how I love it so! I'm talking about pop(ular) culture.

I'm sure it would seem strange for one of you to spot me at the airport, walking away from the newsstand, not carrying the latest issue of Science News or the Economist; but, clutching my fix of People & US Weekly. (Especially when I've been abroad for weeks at a time.) The fact that most countries carry outdated issues makes no difference to me. It's about the ritual; it's about the familiarity of the story-telling; it's my touchstone to my country's immediate history.

Like it or not, we are currently writing our own history. And, this new form of a very old tradition -- this voracious consumption of 'who wore it best' and 'who lost the baby weight in time to walk the catwalk'  (I'm talking to you, Heidi Klum, you gorgeous freak of nature) -- is the general public's chance to weigh-in on a part of their culture with which they identify...or would desperately like to.

Now, more than ever before, we are all easy-chair scientists. Every time we tune-in regularly to view our guiltiest pleasure -- reality television -- we are essentially viewing 22 or 45 minutes of a modern-day field study, where we are viewing a sub-culture at length to better understand what makes them who they are. And that, my friends, is anthropology!

I think the label of being reality television watchers is the hardest part. I'm a travel television host and I don't even like the idea of the 'reality' distinction. I tell folks that I work in 'documentary television' simply to put more space between me and the dreaded turn of phrase. But, c'mon, if it quacks like a Real Housewife! However, when you really break down the types of shows that have never been more popular, you are left with some stark looks into the lives of people that we would otherwise never know. Tattoo artists in Los Angeles; Pageant-winning children in Georgia; Fashion designers in New York City; Angry dance instructors in Pittsburgh.

We've collected quite an interesting assortment of specimens in our reality zoo. We have had the opportunity to better understand disorders like pica and compulsive hoarding, thanks to shows like My Strange Addiction and Hoarders. We can move from sample to sample; case history to case history. Solving. Deducing. And, hopefully, concluding something that eventually allows us to move on.

For some of us, it also may simply be about the fairy tale. Say what you will about certain magazines and television shows and the celebutantes and pop-tresses we invite into our living rooms; but, anthropologically speaking, it's all story-telling -- a tradition so old that it predates the written record. It can be a nice break from the rigors of hunting and gathering to fantasize about having a Kardashian bank account or Lohan sense of entitlement. Or perhaps, we see it as more of a morality play, wherein we can sit back and judge the ladies and gents who are happily destroying their livers and professional connections. Either way, we have an opinion.
(Heck, even the general public that swears-off reality television has a pretty loud and specific opinion about the Kims, Lindsays, and Britneys of the moment.)

And, I would argue that's a good thing. You SHOULD have an opinion. If this is, in fact, a historical imprint we are leaving of ourselves, then we should all know how we feel about it.

When I think of the anthropologists that forged the social sciences. I visualize Margaret Mead and Franz Boas flying for countless hours, boldly charging into the midst of unknown and potentially aggressive communities, penning tomes about a culture so foreign and new that it would certainly change the course of modern history.

And, those journals...all of that sweat and dust...they sit...deep in the lowest level...of the nicest libraries...in the most beautiful universities. My Arctic Expedition; Devil & Commodity Fetishism in South America; A Land of Ghosts; Coming of Age in Somoa. And, the more I think about those beautiful findings, the more they start to resemble their tiny ancestors on my cable channel guide. Ice Road Truckers, Amish: Out of Order; Ghost Hunters...

So, say what you will about the scourge that is reality television; but, hear me when I counter with -- Margaret Mead never had it so good!

The “Packing List”

This week, we were rocking the following: