An Open Letter To Kelly Egan

I'm not much of a writer, but I know bullshit when I read it.

Despite the fact you're now a former Ottawa Citizen city columnist, I stumbled across a recent column of yours. It was about how you bemoaned how complicated food has gotten and how you pine for simpler times at the grocery store.  I get that you have to write something to justify the bone thrown your way, but there's a reason why you retired from the daily grind of writing a newspaper column in the first place. Consider filling those hours with a basic cooking class.

I don't get how someone who is aware of "The Google" as you call it can't be bothered to look up terms they don't understand with "The Google". Having a fast and easy way to take the mystery out of unfamiliar terms in recipes is one of the best things about cooking today, not the hindrance you choose to make it for some reason. Why are you being wilfully ignorant for the sake of a column?  You had no idea the French had a huge influence on cooking over the centuries? I refuse to believe you are that clueless. You never heard of or seen kale until you typed out that article? Come on... 

You seriously are stunned that there are two different ways to cook food in water? It's not that hard of a concept to wrap your head around, but you seem gobsmacked that you can cut food into big and small pieces AND that there's a term for the size of the cut. And of course, you're the guy who buys kitchen appliances he has no intention of using just so he can complain about his lack of counter space. Food is as complicated as you make it and to go out of your way to make it more complicated is a choice. How can you be miffed at how convoluted food is and resent that 'servers in high-end “bistros” spend several minutes translating' what the items on the menu are - isn't that what you're asking for? Food isn't hard to decipher - you're just being deliberately dumb about it. 

We all romanticize the past in some way or another, but at no time when I was sent to the store for a loaf of bread back in the eighties did I go, "Gee Mom, I wish there was less in the store I could buy for a buck". Whining about all the bread styles available is the most first world of problems. If your wife really did send you to the grocery store for ciabatta bread, why didn't you ask for help instead of allegedly coming back with the wrong thing? Were you that intimidated by the employees' knowledge of bread loaves?  No surprise a palette as white-bread as yours is surprised that Wonder bread isn't the end-all, be-all of baked loaves.

Do us all a favour and leave the food writing to the food writers on the Citizen's staff, food bloggers who actually care about the food they're eating, or to dumbasses like me who can follow a recipe without going into a blind panic. Stick to those articles about the good people in our community, and the trials and tribulations of their lives. They truly are your bread and butter. 

Superbowl Eats: Philadelphia Eagles edition

Philadelphia is known for its rabid sports fans and its love of sandwiches. After pelting Santa Claus with snowballs after an Eagles loss in the sixties, you can guarantee a lot of cheesesteaks were consumed afterwards. According to legend, the famous sandwich was created in the early 1930s by Pat and Harry Olivieri. The two brothers owned a hot dog stand, and one day, they decided to make a sandwich made with chopped beef and grilled onions. After a cab driver saw the sandwich and asked for one, he suggested the Olivieris quit selling hot dogs and make sandwiches instead. As Philadelphians hope Jalen Hurts' arm and the Eagles' running game can lead the city to another Superbowl victory, celebrate with cheesesteak of your own. It may not be an authentic one from the City of Brotherly Love, but it will lessen your chances of getting assaulted by a Philly fanatic.

Ingredients

454 g ribeye steak
28 g butter
30 mL olive oil
8 slices mild provolone cheese or warmed Cheez Whiz
4 submarine sandwich rolls
1 large onion, diced
1 garlic clove, pressed
salt and black pepper, to taste
fresh thyme, chopped

1. Place the steak in the freezer for about 10 minutes until it gets very cold but not frozen solid. Trim off any large pieces of fat, then slice the steak as thin as possible with a sharp knife. Season the meat with salt and pepper.
2. In a small bowl, mix together the butter with the pressed garlic. Slice the sandwich rolls 3/4 of the way through with a serrated knife. Spread the garlic butter onto the cut sides of the buns. Toast the buns on either a large skillet, a flat cooktop or griddle on in the oven on medium heat until they are golden brown then set them aside.
3. Heat in a large skillet or griddle half of the olive oil. Add the onions and season with salt and pepper. Cook for about 12 to 15 minutes, stirring occasionally until the onions have softened and start to caramelize around the edges. Transfer the onions to a bowl once they're done.
4. Add the remaining oil to the skillet and increase the heat to high. Spread the thinly sliced steak in the skillet in an even layer. Let the meat brown for a couple of minutes undisturbed then flip and season with salt and  pepper. Sautee until steak is fully cooked through then stir in the caramelized onions.
5. Turn heat down to low on the steak, then add the provolone slices on top of the steak mixture (if that's the cheese you plan to use) and let the cheese melt. Stir to combine, once the cheese has melted.
6. Scoop the cheesesteak mixture into the toasted sandwich rolls. If you are using warm Cheez Whiz, drizzle the cheesesteaks with it. Sprinkle fresh thyme over top and serve warm.