Shepherd's Cow Pie
May. 21st, 2019 07:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thisnewdayFor my dinner tonight, I made something I call Shepherd's Cow Pie. I call it that in order to preserve an important culinary distinction which many cookbooks and websites fail to maintain.
Furthermore, I do this in honor of the some $20-30K which my wife and I spent sending our youngest daughter to not one but two of the finest culinary schools in the country. Without her obtaining certification from either one.
I figure her parents are at least due whatever recognition may be garnered by having it mentioned here. (And yes, therein lie(s) not one but two other stories, neither of which will likely be related in these pages. Because I don't want to jeopardize even this faint hope of parental acclaim.)
But back to culinary distinctions. If we recall the words of a certain immortal nursery rhyme, we may note that it states that Mary HAD a little lamb.
AND it is my contention that, in keeping with the dark traditions, circumstances, outcomes which populate this genre, Mary's little companion had actually been whisked off to the office where it was appropriated by the traditionally-evil school lunch ladies and processed for use in the day's entree--all while the children obliviously laughed and played.
Furthermore, I believe that the true nature and source of this quite delicious meal was kept from the children by identifying it on the lunch menu as, you guessed it, "Shepherd's Pie." Which is how this tradition--of calling a meal made from something cute and fuzzy and frolicking by the innocuous name by which it's known to this day--actually originated.
Anyway, as partial compensation for the two stories which I mentioned above but left untold, I offer the following.
Because my wife worked 12-hour nights, for most of her career, and because her hours started right around the dinner hour, it was frequently left to me to cook the evening meal.
Which I didn't mind doing, except for the finicky appetites and other sensitivities around food which, over the years, had developed within the household. Personally, I'd grown up eating and enjoying all sorts of food, cooked in a variety of ways, and found the prevailing dietary regimen repetitious and boring.
Finally, I decided that in order to push the boundaries a bit I'd employ a strategy similar to that of those evil but creative lunch ladies. The ingredients were similar--as were some of the sensitivities around them. My wife didn't much care for lamb and my kids were horrified at the notion of feasting on something cute and fuzzy and frolicking.
So, I reasoned, if I simply embellished the meal with intriguing colors and textures and herbs and spices--and renamed it--why shouldn't it work?
Initially, everything seemed to be fine. I was hearing comments from around the table like, "Hmm, good stew." And, "Interesting, what's in it?" To which I of course replied with a veritable produce department's inventory of ingredients.
And then someone said, "So, what's it called?"
To which I nonchalantly replied, "Oh, 'Silence of the Lambs Stew.'" (Jodie Foster's movie was big, at the time, so they all got the reference.)
At that very moment, despite my adherence to what I judged to be a long-standing literary/culinary tradition, all hell broke loose around the dinner table.
The upside was that I had good lunches, from the leftovers, for the rest of that week and well into the next.
Anyway, the obvious lesson I took from all of this is that what something is called is truly important. Which is why I cannot, as others who should know better have done, imply the presence of an ingredient which the culinary creation does not actually contain.
In fact, a good 80-90% of the recipes for what purports to be "Shepherd's Pie" simply are not because the signature ingredient is beef, not lamb.
And so, for that reason, I've chosen to label my adaptation of one such recipe with something more akin to what it really is.
Of course, anyone who grew up on a farm--or even just walked across a cow pasture--will understand that the reference is probably more, um, cultural than culinary.
But I try not to think about that while I'm eating...
LPK
Dreamwidth
5.21.2019
Furthermore, I do this in honor of the some $20-30K which my wife and I spent sending our youngest daughter to not one but two of the finest culinary schools in the country. Without her obtaining certification from either one.
I figure her parents are at least due whatever recognition may be garnered by having it mentioned here. (And yes, therein lie(s) not one but two other stories, neither of which will likely be related in these pages. Because I don't want to jeopardize even this faint hope of parental acclaim.)
But back to culinary distinctions. If we recall the words of a certain immortal nursery rhyme, we may note that it states that Mary HAD a little lamb.
AND it is my contention that, in keeping with the dark traditions, circumstances, outcomes which populate this genre, Mary's little companion had actually been whisked off to the office where it was appropriated by the traditionally-evil school lunch ladies and processed for use in the day's entree--all while the children obliviously laughed and played.
Furthermore, I believe that the true nature and source of this quite delicious meal was kept from the children by identifying it on the lunch menu as, you guessed it, "Shepherd's Pie." Which is how this tradition--of calling a meal made from something cute and fuzzy and frolicking by the innocuous name by which it's known to this day--actually originated.
Anyway, as partial compensation for the two stories which I mentioned above but left untold, I offer the following.
Because my wife worked 12-hour nights, for most of her career, and because her hours started right around the dinner hour, it was frequently left to me to cook the evening meal.
Which I didn't mind doing, except for the finicky appetites and other sensitivities around food which, over the years, had developed within the household. Personally, I'd grown up eating and enjoying all sorts of food, cooked in a variety of ways, and found the prevailing dietary regimen repetitious and boring.
Finally, I decided that in order to push the boundaries a bit I'd employ a strategy similar to that of those evil but creative lunch ladies. The ingredients were similar--as were some of the sensitivities around them. My wife didn't much care for lamb and my kids were horrified at the notion of feasting on something cute and fuzzy and frolicking.
So, I reasoned, if I simply embellished the meal with intriguing colors and textures and herbs and spices--and renamed it--why shouldn't it work?
Initially, everything seemed to be fine. I was hearing comments from around the table like, "Hmm, good stew." And, "Interesting, what's in it?" To which I of course replied with a veritable produce department's inventory of ingredients.
And then someone said, "So, what's it called?"
To which I nonchalantly replied, "Oh, 'Silence of the Lambs Stew.'" (Jodie Foster's movie was big, at the time, so they all got the reference.)
At that very moment, despite my adherence to what I judged to be a long-standing literary/culinary tradition, all hell broke loose around the dinner table.
The upside was that I had good lunches, from the leftovers, for the rest of that week and well into the next.
Anyway, the obvious lesson I took from all of this is that what something is called is truly important. Which is why I cannot, as others who should know better have done, imply the presence of an ingredient which the culinary creation does not actually contain.
In fact, a good 80-90% of the recipes for what purports to be "Shepherd's Pie" simply are not because the signature ingredient is beef, not lamb.
And so, for that reason, I've chosen to label my adaptation of one such recipe with something more akin to what it really is.
Of course, anyone who grew up on a farm--or even just walked across a cow pasture--will understand that the reference is probably more, um, cultural than culinary.
But I try not to think about that while I'm eating...
LPK
Dreamwidth
5.21.2019
no subject
Date: 2019-05-27 03:59 am (UTC)Silence of the Lambs Stew and all hell broke loose at the table - did your kids begin picking at the food each evening trying to make sure what they were eating?
At a young age WT was broken over deer meat used in a taco salad and still does not trust the food at M's brother's house. If Neal has not said anything, but no, that is not who he is - and he kept on teasing her until she literally threw up. She ran to the bathroom but I wish she'd done it right on the floor in front of him.
no subject
Date: 2019-05-27 08:41 pm (UTC)To be honest, I REALLY like the sound of deer meat taco salad. And the daughter who was most affected by "cute and fuzzy syndrome" kind of grew out of that, although she did go through a vegetarian phase during and just after college...
no subject
Date: 2019-05-28 03:08 am (UTC)Still, I wish she'd just barfed on the floor in front of him and the rest of the family/company. Ppl were beginning to speak up for him to stop when she bolted to the bathroom. I tended to her, she cried, and then I led her out another door to the car and left - made Mike get another ride home. I had grabbed my purse when I went after her.
no subject
Date: 2019-05-28 07:23 am (UTC)I sometimes have to remind myself of that, even around adults who, we assume, are better equipped to handle it. Even then, we don't always know what's playing in the background of someone else's life.
I'm glad you were there for her and took action to get her out of the situation...