Cafe Davis as a Food Blog

Cafe Davis 2008 did not turn out to be all that I hoped it would. My blogging skills were terrible, and of course a family emergency cut the event waaaaaaaaaay short. My mom is still in the hospital and will undergo another surgical procedure tomorrow, but we have high hopes that she'll get to go home soon. Thanks for all of you who contacted me with well-wishes for her. She appreciates all of them. That said, I've been thinking a bit about this blog and how it is under-utilized. I have lots of opinions about food, and based on the popularity of food television, cookbooks, cooking magazines, and other food blogs, I have a sneaking suspicion that there just might be people out there who wouldn't mind wasting a few minutes at work every now and then reading about them. I will therefore, from here on out, do my very best to create a quality blog with my own crazy musings on gastronomy and all things food-related.

To start with, I want to comment on the ridiculously hoity toity (are those words? You get the idea...) nature of people who claim to be foodies, foodists, or any other cutesy food name. Tonight I was sitting on my couch reading the August issue of "Bon Appetit" and was dumbfounded by its blatant snobbery. Now perhaps critiquing "Bon Appetit" is not the best way for me to start my illustrious food blogging career, but even as a long-term subscriber, come on... let's be real. Eating well is about eating well - enjoying quality ingredients with quality friends in a quality environment. Since when does that scenario necessarily come with an implied six-figure salary and access to Michelin-rated top chefs at our, oh lucky me, neighborhood bistro? I know I'm not "Bon Appetit's" target audience. The magazine is open next to me now on a lovely advertisment for a Mercedes C-Class. But reading the magazine makes me feel like its first editorial step is a "is it snobby enough" test. Case in point - the letter from the editor, Barbara Fairchild, states "So why do I feel like eating out? Well, for one thing, it's relaxing. Also a lot of fun." Ok... good so far. I agree with that. Then she states, "...if you're with the right people, say for instance, not your tax lawyer." She didn't say your accountant - a service provider that many of us may have employed every April at H&R Block, but rather your tax lawyer. I am so far from a tax bracket that requires a tax lawyer it's kind of depressing.

I continue reading... p. 40. The new "BA Foodist," Andrew Knowlton (ha ha - love his name - he knows a ton, I'm sure), lambasts all but one particular type of apron as acceptable wear for home chefs - of course it's endorsed by Chef Fergus Henderson and his staff at St. John restaurant in London, as well as by U.K. food activist Hugh-Fearnley Whittingstall. From earlier in his column, we already know that Mr. Knowlton wears expensive shirts. Probably because he saw Chef Henderson and Mr. Whittingstall sporting similar frocks at Fashion Week. Puh-leeze. Aprons are not for "dorks," as Mr. Knowlton insinuates. They are functional kitchen attire used to protect clothing. And, in the case of this vintage apron enthusiast, they can also be interesting statements on American domesticity throughout the ages. But I digress... my apron collection is fodder for another post someday.

Going on in the magazine... oh, didn't have to go far. Page 42 - a recipe for "The Widow's Touch" cocktail, created by John Gertsen of Boston's No. 9 Park. I believe I have a decently stocked bar. I have my own kegerator, for goodness sake. Mixers? Check. Cool silverplated barware that look like rockets? Check. Swizzle sticks? Check. Jiggers? Flutes? Sherry glasses? Check. Check. Check. But I do not have any of the ingredients for this cocktail. Oh, except ice cubes. Laird's Applejack, St-Germain (elderflower liqueur), Benedictine liqueur, and angostura bitters. Oh, and while I think I have the requisite small coupe glasses to serve them in ('cause I'm a glassware junkie), I know that I had no idea that's what they were called. I call them good ice cream bowls on a stem. I'm curious if I can even get these ingredients in my little 'Burg. Maybe I'll mosey over to the liquor store later this week and check out the selection. If I actually do that, I'll get back to you on the availability. The point of this particular tirade is the lack of accessibility of many of these ingredients. Are drinks like this featured to expand horizons? Or to heighten the snobbery associated with certain high-end restaurants? Bartenders like Mr. Gertsen are often called "mixologists" these days - and perhaps deservedly so, because I certainly know I've created some unskilled nasty concoctions in my time - but why have cocktails become increasing associated with high tiers of sophistication and excess? The home bar should be a place where one can turn to for their one nutritional alcoholic drink per day, or a place to celebrate a milestone in one's life, or a place to enjoy fun times over a board game with some close friends. It shouldn't be a place where one has to feel the pressure of creating the "ultimate fall cocktail" to impress folks with our high society living.

The point of all of this (and I'm not even a third of the way through "Bon Appetit" yet) is to highlight what this blog is about - relaxation, accessibility, and sustainable eating. I guarantee that I will never make "The Widow's Touch," regardless of how delicious I can pretend to imagine elderflower liqueur would taste. But I will make a pitcher of some tasty margaritas for Tom's birthday party tomorrow (kudos to Jill for the super-simple recipe!), and I know people will enjoy them. I will also use my homegrown tomatoes, zucchini, and squash at Supper Club tomorrow. And I look forward to all of the other delicious dishes that my friends will bring. I've entertained A LOT in the past 10 years, and I'm slowly learning a valuable lesson. Being stressed out in the kitchen, searching high and low for ingredients, and making complicated croquembouche are not recipes for enjoying myself. There's a time and place for croquembouche, and I'll likely make it again some time in my life. But never again when I'm expecting 50 guests. Live simply, and enjoy it.