Sunday Snapshot: Meat

Curious shoppers cast quizzical glances towards me as I raced through the grocery store–but this time their odd looks were not because of my rapid pace.

This time, it was the contents of my shopping cart that drew their gaze and furrowed their brows.

Meat

After all, how often do you see a young woman in the grocery store buying 25 lbs of meat and little else?

It’s the lab my meat-squeamish students hate–and the lab I absolutely love.

They gingerly use a fork to pick up a steak, handling it as if it were a live rattlesnake. They’re terrified that they might actually touch raw meat.

I show them how it’s done, as I grasp a steak and slap it on the board, as I squish my hands into hamburger for meatloaf.

I love working with meat–especially with raw meat. It’s cold, visceral, and bloody. It demands hands-on action for best results. I can’t really explain why I like working with raw meat–but I do, almost like how I enjoy squishing my toes in freshly turned earth. It’s a reminder of life and death, of reality, of where our food actually comes from.

So I apologize to my gagging students as I encourage them also to plunge their hands into the meat.


Sunday Snapshot: Bread Pudding

I dropped into my folk’s house and saw that my mom had leftover bread pudding sitting out waiting to be eaten.

I grabbed a bowl and spoon and, as I dished myself up, I saw the recipe–my recipe for French Toast Casserole.

Bread Pudding

Thanks, Mom, for reading my blog, for perusing my recipes, and for trying them out for yourself. (She tried a variation, adding apples and raisins. It was scrum-diddly-umptious!)


Unlabeled

For most of my life, I have resisted labeling.

I purchase most of my clothing from used stores, modifying articles as necessary for fit and fashion.

I choose unlabeled clothing–no conspicuous brand names can be found lurking in my closet. It doesn’t matter whether the brand is low-end or high-end. I don’t wear it.

Then I went to get a new lab coat.

My coat from my dietetics internship has gotten pretty ratty and I needed a new one to wear for my new clinical position.

Now, finding a lab coat for me can be tricky: I’m a tall but slender woman. I need a coat with sleeves long enough to cover my arms, and a fitted-ish waist in order to keep me from looking like I’m positively swimming.

The problem is, most men’s coats don’t have fitted waists (I wonder why?) and most women’s coats don’t have long enough sleeves. And even if they do have long enough sleeves, the waist often ends up somewhere around my chest. Which is totally not cool.

After trying on every coat in the store, I found one that I liked.

Me in lab coat

I purchased it despite one huge misgiving.

Lab coat tag: Grey's Anatomy

Yeah.

Oh well. There goes my good intention of living life unlabeled.


A Smile on my face and a load off my back

This last weekend was hard for me. Really hard.

I had a lot on my heart, a lot on my mind. The burden was too much for me to bear.

I went throughout my days. I did what needed to be done. But the burden weighed me down.

I couldn’t just shrug the melancholy away. Couldn’t pretend that I was happy. Couldn’t conjure a smile, even though I tried.

Monday morning, I wrote on my Facebook wall: “Rebekah Menter has misplaced her smile. If you’ve seen it, please let me know. I’d really like to reclaim it.” (Kinda a whiney post, wasn’t it? I’m sorry.)

It wasn’t the easiest day–but the end put a smile on my face and took a load off my back.

I was walking to my car from the class I teach when I received a text from a friend I hadn’t seen for (literally) years. She said she saw me walking and wanted to say hello–and that she missed me.

I had to wait for the tears to subside before I could drive home.

I’d asked my dad earlier if he had some time available that evening to talk–he didn’t, but he took off work early so we could chat. We holed ourselves away in his office and I shared my burden with him. He offered to take some of it–the hardest part–upon himself.

It still isn’t easy, but knowing that my dad is acting on my behalf makes it much easier.

Then I got home and went up to my room to drop my bags from the day–and found this waiting on my desk.

Stuff to put a smile on my face

Au Gratin Potato Chips. Sardines in Mustard Sauce. Smiley Face Gummy Snacks. Some Stickers from Walmart. Three Yellow Flowers in a Vase. And a note from my roommate.

“Hope these small things help you relocate your smile!”

Yes, indeed, they have.

I am so blessed to once again have a smile on my face and a load off my back.


Sunday Snapshot: Engine Check

Last Sunday, on my way to church, my car’s “check engine” light flashed on.

Since I’m doing a fair bit of traveling these days with my new job in another town, I knew I wanted to get things checked out quickly.

So I asked my brother Timothy, who works at a car lot, to recommend a place to go.

He said he could read the error if I’d just take my car up to the lot.

I complied, of course.

Timothy reading my engine

We wrote down the error code, returned home to look up what it meant, and quickly did some troubleshooting by the side of the car.

Turns out my gas cap was not fully screwed on and that was causing a pressure reading to “flag” the check engine light.

We screwed the cap on tightly and I drove away.

15 minutes, no money, no problems.

Having family in the “car business” works for me!


Sign, sign, everywhere a sign

Five Man Electrical Band had a song:

Sign, Sign
Everywhere a sign
Blocking out the scenery
Breaking my mind
Do this, don’t do that
Can’t you read the sign?

The lyricist dislikes the signs he sees all about.

I agree–sometimes.

But then there are the signs like the ones I’ve seen at various times at my parents’ house:

SignSign

Or the ones at my grandparent’s house:

SignSign

Good-natured signs put up by good-natured people in order to inform or instruct on the basic mechanisms of how a house works.

Do you have any signs in your house?


Eating RED meat

Many in my family are of the mistaken notion that I only consume “fully dead” meat products.

They complain that I like my steak so dead that it has no flavor left.

I tell them that it’s not that I like my meat overcooked–it’s that I like to make sure that my meat is safe. Then I urge them to buy a instant-read food thermometer.

Why?

Because with an instant-read food thermometer, you can tell within moments that your meat is safe to eat and don’t have to rely on remarkably unreliable data about doneness–data like how pink a piece of meat is.

Last night, after my dad purchased an instant-read food thermometer, I ate a delicious steak that was cooked to an appropriate internal temperature of 150 degrees Fahrenheit (Whole cuts of beef and pork are considered safe if they reach an internal temperature of 145 degrees for at least 15 seconds.)

Steak cooked to 150

See that?

Note the blood pooling on my plate?

That’s a safely cooked steak. I know because I temped it personally.

I also know that my dad pulled another steak off the grill, even though my internal temperature readings were only 140 degrees. He was sure the steak was done, that the thermometer was wrong.

Once he got inside and cut that steak open, he decided differently. The thermometer was right, the steak wasn’t fully cooked.

His options now? Eat it in its potentially dangerous present state or nuke the life out of it.

He chose to eat it as it was. I would have nuked the life out of it.

But that decision could have been avoided if he’d just trusted his thermometer.

Food thermometers–making RED meat safe for everyone!


For those who are interested in how to use an instant-read food thermometer, you’ll want to insert the probe at least an inch into the side of your piece of meat at the thickest point. Wait until the temperature on the dial stops increasing.

While many thermometers have temperature recommendations listed on them, these recommendations are not safety recommendations but preference-based recommendations. Often, the temperature listed on the thermometer is higher than the safe temperature. Instead of going with these recommendations, I prefer to know the safe numbers and to cook my meats to my own preferred level of doneness once I know they’ve reached a safe temperature.

So, without further ado, I offer you a handy table of safe meat temperatures.

Beef or pork steaks or chops 145 for 15 seconds
Beef or pork roasts 145 for 3 minutes
Ground beef or pork 155 for 15 seconds
Poultry, whether whole or ground 165 for 15 seconds
Leftovers or other reheated foods 165 for 15 seconds

Teaching Food

I teach a couple of “Scientific Principles of Food Preparation” labs at our local university–and I absolutely love what I do.

What I don’t love is trying to explain what I do.

The easiest explanation, although not the most accurate, is that I teach college nutrition students how to cook.

The truth is…a bit more complicated.

Over the course of any given lab, I might be showing someone how to separate an egg, explaining how one ingredient can be substituted for another, defining “simmering” or “rolling boil”, encouraging students to get out of their comfort zones and eat a new food, describing some cultural ritual associated with a food, and discussing the functional properties of certain ingredients.

And then there’s the part I’m actually hired to teach. :-)

You see, ultimately, my job is to help students understand not how to cook, but why we cook the way we do and what happens when we cook certain ways.

My job is to teach the science behind cooking.

For instance, last week I showed the students why recipes that include purple/red vegetables often include an acid of some sort (vinegar, lemon juice, fruit, etc.)

I boiled some red cabbage in three separate pans. Each pan contained water and cabbage, but two contained extra ingredients. To one pan, I added baking soda (a base). To another, I added cream of tartar (an acid).

I drained the cabbage and reserved the liquid to show the students what each looked like.

Red Cabbage at different acidity levels

I explained how the purple/red pigments, called anthocyanins, found in these fruits change their color based on pH. As the concentration of hydrogen ions increase (the acidity increases), the color becomes more of a red/pink color. As the alkalinity increases, the color changes to blue-green color.

I encouraged the students to take a close look at the texture of each wedge of cabbage. The one that was cooked in a basic solution was incredibly mushy, because the hemicellulose, one of the fibers that gives structure to vegetables, becomes soluble in water under basic conditions, causing structure to be lost.

I talked about the sensory implications of cooking style–how different methods of cooking vegetables influence their color, flavor, and texture. I talked about the nutrient implications of cooking style–how different methods of cooking vegetables influences nutrient availability, nutrient loss, and ease of eating.

I talked about “phytochemicals” and how many of these “food dyes” that give color to our vegetables have been identified as having beneficial health properties. I mentioned lycopene, the bright red pigment found in tomatoes. I explained to my students that lycopene is a carotenoid that can not be used by the body to synthesize Vitamin A–but that is still useful as a phytochemical that appears to be active in prostate cancer prevention.

I teach “pure science”–things like osmosis and acidity and chemical structures. I teach “food science”–things like the functional properties of gluten and the interactions of glutenin and gliadin to create an elastic dough. I teach “nutrition science”–things like what nutrients can be found where and how different cooking techniques influence the nutritional properties of a food.

But mostly, I just teach food.

Which suits me just fine.

‘Cause I love teaching–and I love FOOD!


Sunday Snapshot: A Storm

Last Monday, Lincoln enjoyed a massive windstorm.

No actual tornadoes were spotted, but the wind was gusting to at least 90 miles per hour. It knocked over three semis on the interstate between Lincoln and Omaha, put out power in many Lincoln and Omaha neighborhoods, and completely ripped off the roof of at least one large building.

I happened to be walking to my car from a lab I’d been teaching when the storm blew up. I snapped some pictures before the wind started in earnest.

Below you can see a picture taken facing northeast as the storm advanced from the west. This was before the storm had truly blown in.

Storm coming in

This next picture was taken facing due north, where you can clearly see the black clouds of the advancing storm.

Storm coming in

Less than a minute after I had taken these photos, the temperature dropped by five to ten degrees and the wind (which had been brisk but manageable) suddenly began pelting me with debris from the road and the neighborhoods west of campus. I was thankful that the bulk of the rain held off until I had reached my car–there was no way I could have held my umbrella against the wind.


Fat Pills

Get those fat pills away from me,” my father said of the Smarties Grace had leftover from a start-of-school club booth.

Grace wasn’t moving fast enough, so Dad grabbed a handful and attempted to get rid of them himself.

“You don’t have any pockets!” he exclaimed to me.

Grace had a solution–“Fat Pills” stuffed in my neckband.

Rebekah with Smarties in neckband

A not-so-subtle message.

It’s intervention time, they’ve been saying. You need to gain some weight.

I know I do.

I wish I could.

I’ve been working at it–multiple meals a day, choosing more calorie-rich foods, etc.

It’s been work, keeping the pounds on.

I can hear what you’re saying: “Puh-lease. Give me what you’ve got.”

It puts me at a disconnect with a majority of the “diet-interested” population. Which, I guess, means that it’s good I’m not going to be working with the majority–or with the diet-interested, even.

Instead, I get to work with a population for whom weight loss is bad news–and my job will be to make sure it doesn’t happen.

It feels very “physician heal thyself” (or, “dietitian, stop your own weight loss”). But I’m proud to say that those fat pills must have paid off. I stepped on the scale last time I was at my sister’s (I don’t have a scale and generally only weigh myself once a month or less often)–and my weight is UP!

I know most of you don’t understand the excitement, but I’ll share it anyway!

Yippee!

Maybe my family will stop “stuffing” me now :-)