An Ode to Food: *Not Actual Ode

I love food. Whether I make it myself, get it to go, or sit down at an eating establishment, I love food.

Why do I love food? That’s a tough one, Alex. Should be simple, but I find myself digging deep into my soul to find the answer.

It starts from a very simple feeling. I love to eat. I am naturally inclined towards food; I've looked forward to meals and planned my week around specific restaurant visits since I can remember. I always thought the rest of the world failed to recognize the beautiful opportunity presented by food. So many people eat whatever is convenient, while I saw a form of sustenance that gave us the chance to enjoy it for its artistically-driven pleasure.   

That is only part of the story, though. I am not interested in eating any food to satisfy my needs and fulfill my desires. I am in constant pursuit of culinary perfection, a journey that has no logical end but that fuels me to reach for unattainable conclusions.

I take up this battle when I prepare my own meals, inevitably leading to disappointment. I will happily acknowledge the strengths of a dish I prepare, but I obsess over the misfires.

Lasagna from scratch--yeah, I grated the Parmesan. 

Flatter than 14th century conceptions of Earth.

Wontons--yeah, I wrapped 'em all myself. No biggie. 

Entered a bouillon-based broth that tasted of pure shortcut.

I am always willing to take on a new challenge because the process of creation enthralls me. Humankind feeds off of accomplishment; no illicit substance can give one the excellent feeling that comes from taking on a challenge and besting it. Cooking is a daily outlet for creativity, and it gives me a way to shed my competitive urges.

Despite the pleasure I gain from whipping up my own dishes, I have as much appreciation for restaurants as anybody. I’m just a tad picky.

My food philosophy essentially sees mealtimes as brief windows of opportunity; I want to take advantage of my allocated stomach space for the day, and also want to get the best possible grub for my dollar. When I go out to eat, it is a careful selection process that considers every possible factor. I make the task assigned to the International Olympic Committee look easy in comparison.

 Burger Paradise

I wanted a burger on my birthday. I sought to locate Flagstaff’s finest offering in the hamburger department to commemorate the world’s foremost celebration, and I wasn’t disappointed. I ordered a burger adorned with onion rings, lamb meat, and best of all, mozzarella sticks. I could taste every element of those ingredients, but every bite gave me the most crucial flavor: the effort that went into my food. At risk of deploying a cliché, truly great food comes with a taste of love. In the University Union, one can taste the lack of effort that goes into everything. From the appearance to the glaring deficiency of harmony amongst the ingredients, I can instantly tell when food is prepared sans passion. My birthday burger left me with the feeling I seek from great food and reminded me why I will continue to chase the perfect meal. 

Summer Awaits: The Times, They Are a Changin'

For my entire existence, summer has always meant downtime. My annual calendar has never failed to coincide with the academic year, which makes summer a period of waiting. Now that I graduate in less than a month, my internal clock is in for a major reset.

Normally, a discussion of summer would be a perusal of various leisure activities to consume myself with while putting forth a reasonable effort to not simply sit around.

This time, life starts.

Planning for summer now entails preparing for the world beyond. Thoughts of proper business attire, U-Hauls, and job applications replace trips to Sedona, lazy summer afternoons, and all other activities I usually associate with this time of year.

I’m ready for the significant change that awaits me. The challenge of Life is far more invigorating than deciding where to get tacos for lunch. 

But then again, maybe I’m not ready. Am I ingrained with a routine passiveness that renders me incapable of productivity between June-August? Have I been trained to put my brain to rest during the summer months?

Maybe I have. I am about to wage war with the school calendar mindset that constitutes all I've ever known. Usually, I get to relax and wait for the next semester to begin. This time, the established annual pattern must be usurped by a sense of urgency that comes with growing up.  

Time to see what I’m made of.

Spring Break: A Reason to Go to In-N-Out

Yuma, Arizona. When hearing the term Spring Break, this hotbed of solar energy is more than likely not a destination that comes to mind. However, it is where I spent the majority of my off-week—a deviation from normalcy I desperately needed.   Many folks flock to beaches and touristy hipster towns, but I sought a different experience.

My trip to see family in Yuma is always centered around the same focal point: my habitual trip to In-N-Out Burger. This solitary pilgrimage is the highlight of my month, I rarely make it past the first reachable location before pulling over.

                                                                              

But Nigel, isn’t it about seeing your family? The 3x3 burger is as much a part of my familial conceptions as any person could ever be.

A lot of people would probably feel uncomfortable or awkward sitting alone in a booth at a burger joint. I fantasize about this scenario weeks in advance. After I place my order, I locate a table that will provide the ideal dining experience and perform the routine set-up. One packet of salt, two packets of black pepper, a healthy portion of ketchup, and a precautionary but not environmentally-destructive amount of napkins.

My number is called.

At the moment I hear the digits that correspond to my receipt, I feel a fluttering sensation in my stomach. The flavors I've imagined for weeks are suddenly seconds away, and I rush in a euphoric haze to swiftly reap the benefits of my longing.

The freshly-made fries are spread out evenly on the tray. Salt and pepper is applied. It is time.

                                                                       

My authentic In-N-Out experience could never accommodate the process of photography. The raw, lusty impatience to devour my burger and fries triumphs over any yearnings to provide a snapshot of the moment. Come to think of it, why would I ever want to see a picture of the perfect proportion of ground beef to cheese? This image has no value as a standalone; without the aroma of sauce and the crunch of fresh lettuce, it is nothing more than a torture device.

                                             

If I am ever captured and held hostage, don’t even waste your time with water-boarding  The photograph of a hot In-N-Out meal coupled with even the faintest possibility of realizing it would fill my body with more anguish than any man-made device could ever hope to elicit.

Perhaps my affinity for In-N-Out could be perceived as over-the-top by some.  

To me, the people of the Southwest who are fortunate enough to be blessed with this culinary mecca are grossly unappreciative of the greatness at their fingertips.   

Bromanceical Day on the Mountain

When one receives a visitor, the typical hospitable response is to introduce the guest to aspects of the host-city they may not be acquainted with. Upon the arrival of an out-of-towner, I am very often inclined to replenish their energy with a journey to any number of restaurants downtown.  However, when Griff comes to town, we have more important objectives.

 

Hailing from Southern Ontario, Griff is captivated by the mountain scenery that surrounds Flagstaff. The ability to stand atop a mountain and gaze at the world below is an opportunity that isn’t afforded to everyone, and Griff is eager to remind me of this from the moment he arrives.

To catch up with an old buddy is always a treat, but to rekindle the flame of friendship while ascending a hill is just spectacular. It is already surreal to see someone from a prior life, but the bonds of years past are truly intensified as the world shrinks below us. As cars, buildings, and people become small enough to fit onto the tip of my pinky, the world is put into perspective like no other experience can replicate. The mountain reminds me what is important, and as Griff and I contemplate the past, present, and future, the placid, tranquil surroundings confirm that the world has stopped so that he and I can take this moment to appreciate our brief time together.

Flagstaff: What Food dost Thou Giveth?

Flagstaff is an open-minded kind of place, and the culture here is one that has respect for different modes of life. Downtown Flagstaff is made up of restaurants that represent a wide array of cultures, and at places like Mountain Oasis, the world’s different cuisines are celebrated under one roof. In a way, Flagstaff’s culture can really be defined by its appreciation of all cultures.

Still, two cuisines have risen above the rest to make an imprint on Flagstaff’s culture of food: Mexican and Native American. I challenge anyone to drive 5 minutes in any direction within Flagstaff’s borders and not find a Mexican restaurant. Mexican food is such a staple in Flagstaff that even non-Mexican restaurants include at least a couple of these menu items. If I were to consider one type of food that I make which represents Arizona and Flagstaff, it would be Mexican. Native American food is nowhere near as prevalent, but prior to living here I didn’t know what fry bread was, so it has clearly made an impression on at least one person.  

In my mind there is no signature dish that defines what food is to Flagstaff, but rather the variety and diversity of food represent the receptiveness to different experiences and the desire to learn about others that characterize this little mountain town.

A Lazy Afternoon at FBC

As much as I value and encourage the importance of people and surroundings in relation to food, my dining choices nearly always come down to the food itself.  But when an airplane touched down at the Flagstaff airport carrying my lifelong friend, Dusan, I was compelled to find a dining experience that transcended the biological necessity of eating and that represented the city I call home.  Dusan, my girlfriend, and I visited FBC—Flagstaff Brewing Company—and in one short hour I was able to provide an atmospheric representation of what Flagstaff is all about.

Pub or bar would be dictionary-approved terms to describe FBC, but it cultivates its own unique ambience that cannot quite be attributed to one plain definition. The wait staff is fashioned in street clothes, and their casually-initiated conversation eliminates the often awkward report between customer and server.  The laid-back, homey atmosphere is a synecdoche of the city that surrounds it, and this is only strengthened by the food and drink. As I bit into a homemade French fry and sipped handcrafted amber ale, I could taste my surroundings.  In Flagstaff we appreciate the simplistic beauty of nature, and the from-scratch theme at FBC encapsulates our desire to embrace the wholesome aspects of life. As we got ready to leave, I pointed out a sign behind the bar to my friend. Beer—so much more than a breakfast drink. Is anyone free for breakfast tomorrow?

Sensing Up a Storm: Flagstaff and Pork

Sometimes I take it for granted. Despite my Southern Ontario upbringing, which was void of snow-capped mountain views and lush green pine forests, I still sometimes manage to overlook the beauty that surrounds me in Flagstaff, Arizona. But not today.

Eating my slow cooker pulled pork in Flagstaff trumps its consumption in any other location. I made it in Yuma, Arizona, but the incomparable smell of sweet and savory barbecued meat clashed with the hot desert air. The quiet calmness, the cool, biting air, makes the pulled pork sandwich that much more enjoyable.

Sometimes I go for hikes on Mount Elden and gaze at Flagstaff from a distance; from a decent height, the civilization of the city is clearly the anomaly. Thick forests carry on seemingly forever outside city boundaries, and the smell of the natural world is extenuated as I immerse myself in the mountain.

Still, my appreciation for Flagstaff is never greater than when I lift the lid of my slow cooker and hear the slight hum of the barbecue sauce combining with the meat. The explosion of flavor, from the acidity of the vinegar to the dry marinated whiskey, all combine to form a bite of pork that cannot be surpassed. The natural environment of Flagstaff is the perfect complement to this bite, and only in Flagstaff can I fully appreciate the delicate, slow cooked delight.