Cooking in America

 

One of my most vivid memories of first setting up house on Long Island is my desperate search for cornflour.  In most countries that is the powdery stuff that is mixed with a liquid and then added to a stew or whatever to thicken the gravy.  Luckily, I seemed exotic enough for people to notice me, or perhaps it was just that I looked so puzzled, because a woman trotted up to me with her trundler, and said, "Are you looking for something?"

"Yes! Cornflour!"

"Corn starch," she said with a broad grin.  She had lived in England, and knew what I was talking about.

Maybe I became well known in that supermarket, because a total stranger came up to me one day and said, "You have to buy the Hoagies!  You have to buy the Hoagies!"

Well, I did admire the enthusiasm.  It turned out to be a kind of hamburger bun. The sort you put hot dogs (chipolatas) inside. They are larger versions of sliders -- small buns (dinner rolls) that you put little weenies (Cheerios, cocktail sausages) inside, and serve with pre-dinner drinks. 

And kosher salt wasn't kosher at all.  It was what we call flaky sea salt, and is apparently called that because it is the best salt for drying out the blood from meat. 

And lox looked just like smoked salmon, only more raw, being translucent.  Tried cautiously, it tasted the same, only more moist.  And fattier.  As I found out, most prized (and expensive) lox salmon is taken from the belly of the fish.

Everything is very, very sweet. All kinds of processed food had to be taken with great caution. Pumpkin ravioli sounded fun, but the pasta turned out to be filled with pumpkin pie mix, complete with sugar (or molasses) and cinnamon. Rather odd on your dinner plate. And pecan pie, to my Kiwi tastebuds, was too sweet to be edible. Key lime, the same. Desserts, on the whole, were to be avoided. Puddings, being smooth and creamy, like our custards or mousse, were more fun. And corn pudding, served with the main course, was wonderful.

Gabanzo beans had me totally fooled. It wasn't until I got back to New Zealand that I understood that the canned ones were just our ordinary chick peas. 

Romaine lettuce looked like cos, and so that was easy, only American supermarkets sell them in a bunch of three, just the hearts.  I miss that a lot.

Menus at restaurants could be baffling, too. What we call an entree is entirely different from what they call an entree.  Here in Kiwiland it is a starter.  In the US of A, it is the main course.  Why? I never, ever, found that out.

There were great discoveries, though.  Collard greens, oh, I so fell in love with collard greens. Cheap as chips, and could be used in stews and soups and casseroles (cooked, by the way, in a Dutch oven), or as a creamed vegetable.  But I was truly staggered one day when the supermarket checkout operator leaned over the counter, and whispered, "You really shouldn't buy collard greens, dear."

"Why on earth not?"

"They are meant for the colored folks."

"Well," said I, totally gobsmacked, because she was not meaning to be racist, just very helpful. "I am sure they don't mind sharing."