Exploring the Intersection of Food, Culture and Identity

I think that I shall never own

A biscuit nicer than a scone

Light and flaky, crumble, crunch,

I’ll eat me up a great big bunch.

HC's Cheddar-Spinach scones

Okay, so I’m not much of a poet. But damn, can I make a scone.

Most of us have probably eaten scones, though very few of us agree on how to pronounce the word. Scots, Brits, Australians and Canadians – in other words, the Empire – say “skahn” (as in “con” and “bon-bon”) while Americans generally say “skowe-n” (as in “bone” and “phone.”) Personally, I don’t care how someone says the word as long as they don’t refer to my breakfast as a “Singing Hinnie” which is apparently what they’re called in the north of England.

A quick websearch (okay, yes, Wikipedia) tracks the first mention of scones to 1513 and says that they would have been large, unleavened cakes of coarse oats – read: horse feed. These days, of course, we prize scones for their tender, crumbly flake.

These won’t disappoint. It’s all about the butter…

Cheese and Spinach Scones

adapted from Dried Cherry Scones

Better Homes and Gardens Cookbook

1 ¼ all purpose flour

½ cup spelt or whole wheat flour

¼ cup cornmeal

1 ½ tablespoon brown sugar

2 teaspoons baking powder

½ teaspoon salt

½ teaspoon baking soda

1/8 teaspoon freshly ground nutmeg

¼ cup butter, cold, cut into pieces

¾ cup frozen spinach, thawed, all the water squeezed from it

1 cup grated cheddar cheese

1 beaten egg yolk

1 cup sour cream

¼ cup grated parmesean or grana padano

In a large bowl, whisk together the dry ingredients.

Using your fingers or a pastry blender, cut the butter into the dry ingredients until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs.

Add the spinach and toss well, coating the pieces with flour and separating any clumps. Add the cheese and toss until covered in flour.

In a small bowl, combine the egg yolk and sour cream. Add all at once to the flour mixture. Using a fork, stir until combined (mixture will seem dry.)

Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface. Knead dough by folding and gently pressing for 10 or 12 strokes or until nearly smooth. Pat into a 7-inch disc. Cut into 8 wedges.

Place the wedges 1 inch apart on an ungreased baking sheet. Sprinkle with the grated parmesan or Grana Padano.

Bake in 400 degree oven for 25 to 30 minutes, until golden brown.

Lobster Roll at America Eats Tavern

Though you’d never think of it now, New York was once the oyster capital of the world, with carts on every corner, the dirty water hot dog of the 19^th century.

America Eats Tavern in Washington, DC pays tribute to this legacy with a half-dozen incarnations of the bivalve taken from historical reports and cookbooks. Buttered oysters honor oysterman Thomas Downing, a free African American who stored his shellfish in his basement, which doubled as a haven for slaves escaping on the Underground Railroad. Pickled oysters – a favorite bar snack in George Washington’s time – go down smooth with an American craft beer and Oysters Rockefeller captures the young country’s fascination with “the richest man in the world.”

And who better than Jose Andres to offer America its history on a plate? An eloquent and passionate ambassador of food, culture and identity in all its forms, Andres created the non-profit pop-up restaurant in conjunction with the National Archives exhibit “What’s Cooking Uncle Sam,” which runs until January 3. All profits go to the Archives.

Crunchy, corny hush puppies salted with American caviar offer a perfect follow to the oysters. A buttery brioche bun filled with sweet lobster makes an elegant lunch. But AET’s menu begs for multiple visits, with Kentucky burgoo of rabbit, squab and lamb, an 1845 recipe for mutton shoulder and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich (with foie gras!!) just waiting for a taste.

And coming soon? Pawpaws, aka: American custard apples.

In someone else’s hands, the restaurant would have been a gimmick. But Andres’ passion and the competence of his staff come through in every bite. It’s like eating a little piece of history.

For more insight on the foodways of early America, look to “Food of Younger Land,” author Mark Kurlansky’s extraordinary curation of writings done by icons like Eudora Welty and Zora Neale Hurston as part of a 1930s WPA project.

Crunchy hush puppies get salted with American caviar

photo by Renee Comet

Sittau’s kibbe saniyeh is my Indian husband’s favorite meal: two layers of kibbe stuffed with lamb, onions and pine nuts. But I’ve never thought of it as “meatloaf.” Apparently, the world thinks different, and that’s fine with me. The more kibbe in the world, the better!

Thought these two stories — about Middle Eastern “Meatloaf” and the particularities of Sephardic Rosh Hashanah dishes — made nice bookends.