…(A)nd many such good inventions are on earth like the breasts of a woman: useful as well as pleasing.
~Friedrich Nietzche

Speaking of hanging fruits, what is the story with a woman’s boobs and nipples?

Milking mothers either have to cover their functional breasts to avoid stern stares or, more rudely, are sometimes summarily banished or even ashamedly depart from rooms while lactating with child. Maidens and cougars must hide their bazookas on the beach, but man boobs or not, men do not.  Just another example of our boorish species, we are even more concerned when female breasts do not belong to young women or do not appear globule, ample and nips ever pert. Nubs and warts are out and gazangas, not hangers, are in. Real women’s bodies — not sculpted babes apparently those with guts, boobs, and butts. Oh, the hoi polloi. Are there any reasons for such degradation? Prejudices? Fears? Anxiety? Oppression? Obstinacy? No freakin’ idea.

Chests should always be treated similarly — women’s bared nipples are forbidden, men’s are now not, even though some 75 years ago almost all states prohibited “shirtless” men. So sad and disgraceful, women and men are still not considered the same in so many states and in so many ways. An almost vitriolic form of sexual censorship.  Second class treatment for such beauteous females. Much like women’s suffrage (1920) and a $10 or $20 bill (Harriet Tubman or Alexander Hamilton or Andrew Jackson?). And the backside of whatever bill? In my opinion, an insulted woman’s glaring bare buttocks would prove à propos. Womansplaining is in need.

Apparently, women’s naked breasts can even be unleashed almost like unholstered weapons. Consider Lady Godiva who convinced her husband to lower the taxes of medieval England by traipsing naked through the streets on horseback or even Marianne, the revered symbol of liberty who was depicted by Delacroix bare breasted hoisting the flag in one hand and a bayonet in another, leading others over fallen bodies…images and tales both before and thereafter.

The motion picture association (MPAA or CARA) has imposed its suppression and righteousness over history, PG, PG-13, R, and NC-17, the current supposed “rating” system.  A woman’s buttocks or breasts are apparently cool, but a man’s full monte seems verboten. Some chaste actresses even go to the extremes of donning merkins (undercarriage wigs) to cover their unveiled vulvae.  A bizarre planet to inhabit.

Now, there is Free the Nipple, an open breast equality movement which attempts to address the scenes where a woman may not allowed to be topless, sparking some dialogue. Why should we have such discourse? Breast freedom on all tips seems so completely au naturel.

Even more concerning is the Blur Man Group from of all cable channels, Naked & Afraid, whose staff covers and opaquely blurs crotches and women’s breasts/nipples entirely, frame by frame, to make the contestants suitable for broadcast. Recognizing a nipple from several football fields seems rather strange. Up close and personal is more the norm. C’mon, man, the title of the show is Naked & Afraid, connoting “naked” directly. How disappointing, as nakedness should reign supreme.

So far, this article makes meager mention of genitals, female & male — as this writer simply wholly detests bathing attire and adores nudity. (This is in a land where some 70-80 million dogs and some 90 million cats are household pets buck naked year round — these numbers do not even include so many undomesticated scavengers.) There are so many secluded venues where yours truly has been gratefully denuded. Some say we all have nipples and genitals, right? There should be no shame at baring all, as one should be used to “private” parts. The cows are out of the barn, thankfully.

DUCK BREASTS WITH PORT, COGNAC, CHERRIES & HONEY

2-3  duck breast halves, 6 ozs each
2 T unsalted butter
2 fresh garlic cloves, smashed

1/3 C shallots, peeled and minced

1/2 C chicken broth
10 fresh sweet red cherries, halved & pitted
2 T port
2 T cognac
2 T local honey

1-2 T unsalted butter, cut into pieces
Sea salt & freshly ground pepper

Place duck breast halves between plastic wrap. Pound with a mallet to evenness (about 3/4″). Score skin in 3/4″ pattern. Cover, again with plastic, and refrigerate for a few hours, perhaps overnight.

Melt unsalted butter and garlic in large, heavy large skillet over medium high heat. Sprinkle duck with salt and pepper. Discard garlic, and do not burn. Add duck, skin side down, to skillet and cook until skin is browned and crisp, about 5 minutes. Turn duck breasts over, lower heat to medium, and cook until browned, about 4 minutes. Transfer to board or platter, tent with foil, and let rest 10 minutes.

Meanwhile, pour off most of drippings from skillet, but keep hot. Add shallots to skillet and stir over medium heat, about 30 seconds, and again do not burn.

Add broth, cherries, port, cognac, and honey. Increase heat to medium high and cook until sauce is reduced to glaze, stirring often, about 3-4 minutes. Whisk in butter. Season sauce to taste with salt and pepper.

Thinly slice duck and fan out on plates. Spoon cherry sauce over and serve (preferably over creamy polenta, noodles or rice and perhaps fresh sweet peas as an aside).

Advertisements

Woman & A Gam of Lamb

March 26, 2016

There are no good girls gone wrong — just bad girls found out.
~Mae West

It is the day of egg dyeing, and the eve before hiding and hunting those orbs.  That paschal thing.   So, hens, as should always be revered.

Each day, our bedside table is graced with a hardback copy of Woman, An Intimate Geography by Natalie Angier, the Pulitzer Prize winning author who sometimes writes for the New York Times.  Doubtfully, will it ever leave.

The volume is a searing, exuberant, captivating, guileless study of perhaps the most sublime species that has resided on this planet: women. They are such divine beings — their visuals, scents, minds, essences, intimacies, secrecy, candor, features, mischief, intricacies, enigmas, and so forth.  Damn, women are people, get it?

The book explores the anatomy of the human female biology including chromosomes, breasts, clitorises, orgasms, vaginae, uteri, ovaries, hormones, metabolism, brains, and psychologies, to name a few.  A worthy and appealing read.

ROAST LEG OF LAMB

1/3 C fennel seeds, roasted briefly under gentle heat, then ground

1 large lamb roast, bone-in leg (usually 8 lbs or so)
12 Italian anchovies packed in jars in olive oil, drained
4 T Dijon mustard

6 fresh rosemary sprig leaves, plus more for garnish
6 thyme sprigs, plus more for garnish
6 plump, fresh garlic cloves, peeled and smashed

6-8 oz unsalted butter (1 stick or less), softened to room temperature
Freshly ground black pepper
1-2 fresh lemons, cut in half
1 plump, fresh garlic clove, cut transversely

2 C dry white wine, plus more dollops for jus

Heat oven to 425 F

Use a paring knife to make about a dozen incisions, each about 2″ deep, through the fat that covers the top of the meat. Using a blender or processor fitted with a steel blade, blend the anchovies and the mustard, the rosemary and thyme leaves and the garlic cloves into a chunky paste. Using fingers, press paste deeply into cuts.

Mix the butter and ground fennel seeds into a paste. Smear this mixture all over the surface of the roast. Season liberally with freshly ground black pepper (do not salt given the anchovies and dijon).

Place the lamb on a rack in a roasting pan, fat side up, and squeeze the lemon halves+ over. Place the sliced garlic in and pour the wine around the roast into the pan.

Roast 15 minutes, then reduce heat to 350 F and roast until internal temperature reaches 130 F (for medium rare — about another 60-90 minutes). Throughout the cooking process, baste every 15 minutes or so with the wine and drippings in the pan, adding more wine as needed to keep from scorching.

Then remove pan, take rack from the pan, and let the roast rest on the rack for at least 15 minutes or so, tented with foil. The lamb will continue to cook, and the internal temperature will rise to about 140-145 degrees.

To make pan sauce, remove a few tablespoons of fat by tipping the pan and spooning off the top layer. Put the pan over medium heat until the liquid simmers. Taste and whisk in more wine, about 1/4 cup each time, until the consistency is to your liking. But, do not let the mixture become thick or syrupy — it should remain a jus.

Carve lamb into 1/2″ slices, vertically and arrange on a platter, decorated with rosemary and thyme sprigs. Serve jus in a boat with a deep spoon.

To Mother Cooks

March 6, 2009

Whatever else is unsure in this stinking dunghill of a world a mother’s love is not.
~James Joyce

March is Women’s History Month—a reminder that each of us owe an oft failed tribute to the cherished mother cooks who tirelessly prepare our most comforting fare. Their daily contributions to the world’s kitchens and tables over time deserve our solemn, endless gratitude. With their gentle, confident hands on the spoon and enticing kitchen aromas passed from generation to generation, they reawaken the past and make the present more real. Shared with kin, friends, and community their food alone has magically transformed our palates, beings and souls. Mother food also serves as a constant protector of cherished customs from old homelands which are now far away, helping varied cultures renew and preserve ethos.

How can we aptly honor or even humbly thank people with such ubiquitous, harmonious legacies?

In an almost bizarre incongruity, with mothers manning most every home kitchen, some 90% of executive chefs in restaurants are men. While there has been increased presence of women chefs in restaurant kitchens over the past few decades, it still seems odd that Anne-Sophie Pic is in exclusive company as the only female named as a three-star Michelin French chef in over a half century. Yes, there are other supreme doyennes, such as Julia Child, Alice Waters, Elena Arzak, et al—deities in my book—who have steadfastly, even fiercely, guided our collective culinary conscience. But, men still tend to be the roosters in restaurant kitchens (keep in mind the wicked, off hours demanded of female chefs who may be of child bearing age who find themselves making that “life decision”). All this restaurant machismo and testoserone does little to diminish the eternal, unforgettable contribution of everyday, but far from banal, mother cooks. There is a reason that most great male chefs tip their collective toques to their mothers and grandmothers. Even us lowly lay cooks bow in inspirational reverence.

What makes mother cooks so consecrated, and why are their works such things of beauty? Women generally tend to savor the sights, scents, flavors, sounds and textures of life which are transmuted to fertile food. They are more haptic, richly sensuous, possessing the ingrained feminine impulses to share, coddle, sustain, nourish and develop. Their meals are not ego driven—rather they are tranquil feasts with attention to minute detail beyond the rush of life’s everyday chaos. The kitchen intuition of mother cooks is almost unparalleled. Their successes are measured in devotion, reminiscence and nuturing. Mother cooks will always remain the true grands cuisinièrs.

Thanks, Mom…for teaching me the earthly delights of offal and language, among other things.

And Amelia, I have not done you justice.