The last taboo? No, this is not about incest or bestiality; if it were, it would be on that semi-lewd Austin 3:16 Board. (Do other schools have as much reason as we do to attribute these specific verboten practices to deserving rivals?) This is a food taboo--like Jews and Muslims don’t eat pork and Hindus don’t eat beef. (Oddly enough, for exactly opposite reasons. We are more kin to the Hindus in this respect. We kinda worship a certain breed of cow, OTOH we certainly have no compunction about eatin’ ‘em.) The Hindus, if they did eat beef, probably would have discovered chili before those retired professional ladies in San Antonio; but I digress, as usual. It is well established that it is sacrilegious to add beans to chili. This is a thought more vile than intimate relations with close relations; not sure they do this even in Mobilhoma. They might add beans, but who cares? They are surely doomed, going back generations to the time of the first Sooners. Mayonnaise in guacamole. Not entirely sure this reaches to the level of a taboo. I think there must be an element of temptation for a sacred prohibition to arise. The only thing that comes up when we think of mayo in guac is nausea. There is no secret desire, just revulsion. Definitely Communist. Mayonnaise on hamburgers. Definitely a taboo, but one which has steadily unraveled; perhaps from the very beginnings. My own lapse on this came early, suddenly, and full bore. Two Bonanza Burgers for lunch at the Holiday House on the Drag- Spring of ‘66. “If a Bonanza Burger is wrong, I don’t wanna be right.” Arguably worth going to Hell for, but it’s too late to worry about that now. I still prefer burgers with mustard only; perhaps I'll only get time in Purgatory. The reason there is a question mark in the title is that I am not completely certain that this taboo is any more than my own personal antipathy. Maple syrup. Specifically maple syrup on pancakes, but I don’t like it anywhere. The stuff is revolting. Sickly sweet, insipid, and watery, lacking color, and having a taste so odd it is virtually useless as an ingredient in any other food. I am not a big donut eater (having once worked a couple weeks in a New Orleans donut shop), but I have taken only one bite from a maple bar; fairly positive I spit it out. It is, after all, boiled tree sap; so what can you expect. Indirectly associated with hockey (Toronto?). Quintessentially Yankee. There is an infinitely superior alternative dressing for pancakes. I always carry some in a small jug in my Dopp kit when traveling. Molasses. Now that is a real syrup. Not Karo or other corn syrup or even cane syrup, but the genuine article-- slightly sulfuric molasses. Unfortunately one leg of the triangular slave trade, but otherwise a highly beneficial and salutary concoction. It has body, intensity, and flavor to spare. It is strong and barely sweet at all. Nothing approaches it when poured, ever so slowly, onto buttered pancakes. So thick it is hard to sop it all up from the plate. I think I was 11 or 12, and a Boy Scout, before I ever saw anyone put anything else on a pancake. Few food items have as many varied and wonderful uses. I understand it is common in many cookie and other dessert recipes. Molasses is a key ingredient in lots of damn good BBQ table sauces. Combined with dry mustard, some peppers, and a little cider vinegar, it gives a good sauce the “whang” characteristic of good Southern eating. Molasses is the precursor to rum, a versatile and variable liquor. To it we owe the Daiquiri, the Cuba Libre and scores of other fine drinks-many with umbrellas. Hot buttered rum provided solace during the winters to our ancestors. Some of the aged dark rums are as well thought of as fine whiskies; probably much better than Scotch. My Grandpa, always Charlie to us, liked his molasses stirred up with softened butter. Into this he would dunk a hot biscuit. When he had this his face would light up like he was in Heaven.
A few weeks ago this obscenity was brought up by someone on a thread dealing with guacamole recipes. Be glad you missed it.
Ida, can't tell you how much I enjoyed reading that. Always appreciative of good writing. But I'm sorry to say... I love mayo on my burger and I'm baffled by your revulsion to maple syrup.
A lot of Californians add sour cream to their guacamole, which, to me, ruins it just as much as mayo.
Definite bonus points for the Holiday House reference, although my best memories are from the one on Barton Springs that had a real, live alligator. Good times. I can't say as I have the visceral reaction to maple syrup as you do, but it is a disappointment on the rare occassion that I eat something like pancakes or waffles. Robert just bought a Waring waffle iron because it was ridiculously cheap so we actually had waffles at home a couple of weeks ago and now I feel compelled to make use of the thing. We had some good maple syrup, but it just didn't do it for me. Now, molasses. That is an idea and I'll definitely try it. It is used in many recipes. I make these awesome ginger cookies -- big, soft and chewy as cookies should be (Robert disagrees. He's a thin and crispy cookie person and should be shot) -- that have molasses in them. Thanks for the tip.
I put beans in my chili, I put maple syrup on my pancakes, and I put mayo on my burgers. I sleep well at night.
I wonder if you've ever had "real" maple syrup. there is a huge difference in run of the mill syrup you get most placesand the hgh quality stuff. suprising really. you'd think they'd do a better job with the cheap stuff.
Yes, I have had "real" Maple syrup. Stayed at friends' house skiing a number of years ago. For breakfast, they put out this 'real' stuff and I had no choice. The bottle was treated as if it were Chateau d'Yquem and we were all encouraged not to use much, a suggestion I followed easily. I wanted to eat my pancakes like my sister, who puts only butter on hers (she also thinks she hates onions); but I was a good guest. It wasn't any thicker than Log Cabin, nor did it have noticeably more color. The taste may have been a little stronger, but that was not a positive because it is not a good taste. Sickly. I had some, but savored the bacon and eggs. They had great coffee. On a less serious note, all this is subjective (duh) and most of my taste for things was formed early in life--as I suspect is the case for most of us. Spicy curries and hot Chinese were first experienced in my 20's, but that is the latest influence. I was weaned on tamales. Pintos and jalapenos with cornbread were a staple. Mustard and turnip greens cooked with a little bacon grease and sprinkled with homemade pepper sauce (pequins soaked in cider vinegar); more buttered cornbread. Biscuits and fried chicken or boiled ham. BBQ. Ahhh. Living in France for three years on my Dad's very good pay was also a nice influence. Sensations fortes. Yankee stuff just doesn't fit in. Maple syrup is lame- under all definitions of the term.
If you are actually going to try molasses for the first time, you might want to try one of the lighter/milder varietals. Can't find Brer Rabbit up here any longer, but it used to come in two strengths. (Is having a brand name based on an Uncle Remus character politically incorrect?) Some of the stuff you might find at a Whole Foods type store might just knock your socks off. A Tablespoon of the really strong stuff every day for your male children and they might get big and tall enough to start at Left Tackle for the Horns. (A friend, whose parents are both less than 5'5," is 6'4" and played tight end in college at Ohio University for Lou Holtz. He says his Dad gave him a Tablespoon of molasses every morning, two after he turned 12.)
no discussion of taboo items on a board dedicated to food, eating and recipes is complete without a mention of cannibalism. if sooners broke this taboo, i wouldnt complain.
In Flyboys, by the same author as Flags of Our Fathers, he goes on quite a bit how, as a matter of policy, Japanese troops occasionally ate portions of recently killed enemies, i.e., our troops. Only if their troops were really desperate for food were they allowed to eat their own guys. Makes me think I might get a Toyota next time I'm in the market. Must be a pretty tough vehicle. No, that is not sarcastic. They taught us in Jr High that the Karankawa Indians along the Texas coast were pretty fond of eating their two-legged enemies roasted. Not sure if that is the current archeological view of their diet. Not very PC to think the autocthones were not more civilized than us recent arrivals. Anyway, my post was more about Texas taboos, at least impliedly. The taboo on cannibalism seems pretty general, except if you're really hungry. Never found Fried Green Tomatoes to be all that great--they were not short of other groceries.
Cannibalism apparently was not all that uncommon in many cultures. Not quite sure why it seeems so many would like to deny that. I guess it doesn't fit with the notion of the noble savage and the peace-loving indigenous peoples. We have a rather violent past as a species. We would do better to acknowledge that if we want to change that behavior. Anyway, back to molasses. I've just used Grandma's for baking. I've never really looked for different sorts. I'm close to both Whole Foods and Central Market if I need to get something that isn't available at the Fresh Plus around the corner.
I was born and raised in Texas by parents who were born and raised in Texas (okay, my Dad was actually born in Michigan but that was because his mother and father, who were both born and raised in Texas, were there so my grandfather could finish is medical internship in Ann Arbor so I don't count it) who's parents were born and raised in Texas. I'm a seventh generation Texan going back on multiple branches of my family tree. I have never heard of molasses on pancakes. Because of this apparently serious oversight in my upbringing, I am seriously interested in righting the wrong post haste. Tell me, do you heat the molasses before pouring it over pancakes? I need details, man, details.
Nope, no heat. No intent to disparage your upbringing or your ancestors. Mine go back only five generations in Texas so I was a definite parvenu. Maybe my forbears were of a more rustic stock- German and Welsh farmers and stockmen from around Giddings and Taylor, respectively.
Great stuff, Idahorn2. As one who had some Bonanza Burgers at the Holiday House on The Drag, from 1966 on, I bask in the memory. Those were the days, my friend, we thought they'd never end. Let's just say that anyone who insists on mayonnaise in guacamole should really just eat something else. But hamburgers are another matter. Like any good born and bred Texan, I was raised to think you didn't have a hamburger unless it was slathered in mustard with dill pickles. In later carnivorous years, I began to appreciate other dressings on a burger, and would not dream of using the French's Mustard of my youth. Now, I've only had one hamburger in the last ten-twelve years, that was one of those $12 jobs down at the Driskill. I had been moving away from red meat pretty much, anyhow, but back around 1990, I was traveling in the Pacific Northwest and stumbled into a little restaurant on some lake up there. They had a salmon "burger," as in fillet of fresh salmon. It was the best thing I had ever had served on a bun, and thereafter, that's what I wanted my "burger" to be like. Of course, fresh salmon can be scarce in these parts. By the way, do you remember the first time you ordered a hamburger outside the state of Texas? For me that occurred when I was about 13, in Ft. Collins, Colorado. The family stopped at a drive-in burger shack, and ordered several hamburgers to go. Well, these burgers showed up dressed out in catsup(!!) and pickles, only (and, no, it wasn't a MacDonald's). I don't think I would have been more surprised if somebody had hit me with a stick. I was stammering speechless for a few seconds, and, of course, highly incensed. We sent the entire order back, though as I recall, the proprietor thought we were pretty strange. Yeh, I'm fond of molasses, but if you find yourself with a plateful of those wonderful biscuits like my old East Texas grandma used to make, let me recommend some cane sorghum. Lather a couple of those babies with butter, pour on the sorghum, make sure the fresh-brewed Sumatran is at hand, and oh my, my! But, as to maple syrup, there we'll just have to disagree. Earlier this week, I was dreaming (with eyes wide open) of a meal I've had in Taos many times, the blue corn pancakes, with blueberries, at the Taos Inn. Oh, my friend, bring on the butter, the maple syrup, and side with that apple-cured bacon they serve, and you have reached the end of the breakfast trail! My house is never without maple syrup. I will certainly admit that your's is the first reference to Chateau d'Yquem I have seen on Horn Fans! Cheers, and thanks for the memories.
Kingstone, glad to disagree with someone who has articulated an informed opinion. I will have to try some cane sorghum on a plate of biscuits; Sumatran sounds excellent to go with it. It is my choice after Kenya. In the right circumstances, with the right foods, I might try some Maple syrup and like it. I doubt it, but I did once get drunk enough, 34 years ago, to try snails, and I like them now. My first encounter with ketchup hamburgers was in Austin before a football game--a high school game and it was our pregame meal as a team. Coach, or someone, thought they'd save a little money, so we stopped at one of those new McDonald's places. We each got a sack with a little bitty burger, fries, and a shake. One guy took two bites of his burger, the rest of us only one; they were a joke. The pickle was as big as the meat. The fries were good and the shakes weren't too bad. We lost the game. I'd like to blame it on the meal, but we lost most of our games anyhow.
Cannibalism was usually more spiritual than nutritional and it was a LOT more widespread in that sense than what we like to think happened even here in the Homeland. Most of the so-called cannonballs, like the Cuarancahua, only had a nibble of their vanquished enemies to signify their power or to take their enemy's power. Whatever. I grew up on sourdough pancakes with Steen's Pure Cane visiting grandparaents just south of Zilker. Good times...
Just cider vinegar and pequins. No salt. Maybe 3/4 cup of chilies in a shaker bottle, filled up with vinegar. They always used a wood match to stop the top of the bottle. I never had much success with it myself. Be sure to wash the peppers first. Whole pequins, no chopping, slicing, or mashing.
^ ^ ^ but you'd still rather have the hot sauce from Muarice's in Heights, a pint of which, I have in my fridge right now left over from yesterday.
Well, that's unfortunate. What went wrong with your attempts at recreating the sauce? No taste? Bad taste? Does it need to "age"? My family goes through Tabasco sauce like it's water. We'd be bankrupt if we bought better, more expensive pepper sauces. I'd love to make my own, but I always figured it would be too much effort. You piqued (pequined?) my interest.
I find mayo, in general, to be revolting. There are certainly some situations in which I make allowances, such as its necessary use as a binding agent in things like potato salad, or freshly made mayonaise (sometimes tarted up as ailoi) at some of your finer restaurants. But I abhor the concept of mayo on a burger. And I find that most "secret sauces" are either less than cleverly disguised mayo concoctions or something altogether different, but equally repugnant. So I view them with, at best suspicion, and more typically... with loathing. So imagine my surprise when I went to this fine establishment, Red Mill Burgers, in order to sample their reputationally excellent burgers. Most of the burgers included something they called "Red Mill Sauce". I was initially wary, especially when I asked what it was. They said "smoky mayo", but were quick to point out that it wasn't some awful mayo-ketchup mix, which some people call Thousand Island dressing (a greater insult to archipelagos everywhere I can't imagine). Anyway, I was intrigued enough at the idea of a genuinely smoky mayo that I ordered it on the side, ostensibly to sample with an onion ring. As it turns out, Red Mill Sauce is quite excellent and I happily slathered some on my burger. I don't know if this is a sign that we should all be more enlightened in our thinking about these food taboos, or whether I just got lucky. I actually lean toward the latter. But I do know that next time I go to Red Mill Burgers, I won't get the Red Mill sauce on the side.
