Ratatouille and Remembrance

I am, I admit, a bit of a cinematic neophyte. I was working over the summer back in DC and didn't get the chance to go to the movies as much as I'd liked, and so I missed the critic's darling of the summer, the animated film Ratatouille. However, as it was a Pixar film (all of which I have, without exception, adored) and a movie about cooking, I decided that I would order it to own on DVD, rather than simply renting it. It came in the mail today.

Let me first say that my accolades about its general perfection are needless - I don't think I read a single review of the movie that had anything bad to say. More importantly, however, were three (for lack of a better term) takeaways from the movie that I wanted to mull over.

"Anyone can cook" is the motto of the protagonist's spectral mentor. And this is, in fact, true. While the movie makes it seem like some are born to greatness while others are not, I think that's actually the wrong approach. I think that, if so inclined, it is possible for anyone (okay, 99% of people - my stepdad may be beyond help, but that's another story) to learn to cook competently and to refine their palette. More importantly, I think it's possible for anyone who wants to to learn to cook for their own palette - after all, the foods that I love (risotto, anything with goat cheese or spinach) may be the opposite of what others love. My friend Adam, for instance, hates cheese. We have learned to disagree (and always order different appetizers).

Another theme in the movie is the role of criticism as the discoverer and defender of the new. I think this is something that is applicable not only in my culinary life (oh, that there were more people challenging me to get outside my comfort zone!) but in my academic life as well. Isn't that what we all strive for, as students? Not only to know what has already been discovered but to find the new insight that no one has thought of yet? If not, then I would really like to dispense with all this preemption research nonsense that one is forced to endure if one wishes to be on a law journal. Ugh.

Finally, the movie also reminds us why we, as humans, are so tied to food and strive so hard for what is sometimes sarcastically called "culinary greatness." What is magical about food is the way that it can anchor or bring back a memory. Olfactory (smell-based) memories last five times as long as sight- or sound- anchored memories. More on this in a later post (or posts), but I was just struck by how true that is. There is a reason that the NYTimes Food section has a column entitled Eat, Drink, Memory. It is because food is a visceral reminder of where we are, where we come from, and who we want to be.

Speaking of the ghosts of flavors past, here is a recipe based on a salad at my favorite high-school fast food restaurant - Everything Salad & Yogurt. This salad goes well with a strawberry-banana yogurt smoothie, fyi...

Pasta Tuna Veggie Salad
1 can chunk light tuna fish in water
1 bag mixed salad greens (romaine-based, though spinach would also work)
2 cups fresh broccoli florets (TJs sells them by the bag, pre-cut)
2 cups baby carrots, thinly sliced (1/8" thick is ideal, but everything is relative)
1 cup fresh green beans, sliced into thirds
1/2 cup frozen green peas
2 cups uncooked whole wheat or wheat-blend pasta
1/3 cup light ranch (or other creamy) dressing. I like Newman's Own, myself.

1. Put a pot of salted water on to boil.
2. Open and drain can of tuna.
3. Mix veggies together in a large bowl.
4. Using a fork, gently flake tuna out of can, separating larger chunks with a forl -tuna should look almost fluffy.
5. Cook pasta until al dente; drain and cool for about 15 minutes.
6. Toss pasta into salad. Bit by bit, toss in dressing until all elements of salad are lightly coated (and to your taste).
7. Chill 15-20 minutes before serving (allowing the flavors to meld but not letting the lettuce get soggy).