I'm sick of the abuse of the word "simple" in the world of cooking. I don't care whether the food is simple or complicated, as long as it's good. I have a theory that "simple" became fetishized because it neutralizes the intimidation of people who have never cooked something before. It reassures them that they're not doing anything too challenging. "Simple" also has a kind of rustic romanticism that appeals to the more bourgeois gourmet crowd.
I call the cuisines of these two demographics White Food and Brown Food.
White Food means white bread, white meat chicken, American cheese, Sara Lee cake, and tuna casserole. Occasionally it means shredded coconut and marshmallow Peeps. It is a highly traditional American cuisine and I have nothing against it except for the fact that it's bland and often too sweet for my tastes. White Food recipes are plentiful in women's magazines like Family Circle.
Brown Food is the stuff of New York Times Magazine photo shoots -- root vegetables still covered in an appetizing layer of compost, alongside a flayed rabbit, strewn about with truffles. The whole mess sits precariously on the edge of a rough-hewn wooden table, ready to be butterflied, trussed, & stewed in rooster blood. It's all terribly Continental.
Despite the production values, though, somehow I doubt that the Times' readership is sincerely fond of organ meats. Sophisticated, well-traveled Manhattanites don't race home from the office to grate celeriac, or set their husbands to the task of boiling and plucking the evening's hens. Instead, they head out to restaurants where they will be underfed, overcharged and verbally abused. White Food may be a disappointing reality, but Brown Food is only a fantasy.
Maybe I have more in common with Heartlanders just by making something, anything. Is it better to look at pretty food, or to actually cook ugly food?
