I'm a Wimp Who's Scared of Curry

I don’t know whether to attribute it to growing up in a Kosher household, which limited outside dining options, or to the fact that Jews stereotypically can’t handle heat, but I have a very limited palate when it comes to ethnic food. And spice. And the variety of the ethnic dishes I do eat.

Let me explain: When it comes to sushi, I grew up eating tuna rolls – tuna, rice, seaweed—cucumber rolls – cucumber, rice, seaweed – and avocado rolls – avocado, rice, seaweed. Mexican in the Goldman household consisted of a delicious casserole made from rice, beans, cheese, tuna, peppers, and mild salsa. No heat, no zingers.

I tried Thai food for the first time during my sophomore year at BU. My friends and I went to a restaurant called Noodle Street, which I still HIGHLY recommend, and a kind waitress advised that if I was new to Thai, I should try the “See ew” dish, because it was not all that different from the Chinese food that I did know. I tried it; I loved it. I tried my friend’s Pad Thai dish as well. It has been two years, and those are STILL the only Thai dishes I will order and eat.

I’ve never tried Indian. For context, I spent 4 months in London – which is arguably, the second-best place in the world to try Indian food – and I am still a wimp about it.

But why not? I mean, I live in Boston – a far cry from the ethnic food mecca that is New York City, but we hold our own. I have all sorts of ethnic delights around me, and yet I do not actively try them.

I will be the first to admit it. I am a wimp when it comes to trying ethnic food. I am scared of spice levels, I am scared of not knowing what to order, I am scared of not liking what I ordered. Am I the only one with these irrational fears?

I ask you for help fellow foodies: What dishes should I be trying? And am I alone in my fear of curry?

Mise en Place

Food Network Chef Anne Burrell leveled with her group of home cooks in the premiere of “Worst Cooks in America”: Before you start cooking, you need to have your oven set, and all your ingredients prepped and in place. This act, of setting yourself up to cook, is called “mise en place”.

When I started this blog, two years ago, I failed Anne Burrell. I began well, but then I stopped writing. I neglected to frame my words and failed to put my interests of college, cooking, and Iron Chef America into any kind of context, so that my my poor three entries became the undesirable leftovers in the Internet’s refrigerator. Dear readers, fellow foodies, and Chef Burrell, I apologize. Allow me to introduce both myself and this blog.

My name is Stephanie and I’m a senior at Boston University’s College of Communication. I’m a Public Relations major and a liberal arts concentration in English, whenever I’m not cooking or religiously watching the Food Network. BU’s COM program commendably encourages its students to explore new media and technology while in school, in order to perfect those necessary skill sets that we need to become successful public relations practitioners. Such skill sets include learning to write a blog.

I started “College, Cooking, and Iron Chef America” for a sophomore seminar taught by the very brilliant, Michael Dowding, of Wordscape Communications, Inc. Although the aim of the project was to continue the blog until the end of the semester, Professor Dowding’s class covered a lot of material, and my peers and I, given the choice, unanimously elected to drop the blog project after only three posts.

Cut to the second semester of my senior year, and my COM CM 443 class: New Media and Public Relations, taught by the equally brilliant Professor Steve Quigley, who tasked the class to practice creating content and reaching out to our audiences with our own blogs. On top of that, I stumbled upon my three decrepit little CC&IRA blog posts earlier in the week, so the decision to breathe new, more experienced light into my beloved topic seemed natural.

And so, fellow foodies, with my mise en place in place (enjoy the pun, there will be others), I invite you to relax, let me pull up a chair, as I proudly present my blog.

Dining Hall DuJour

One of the categories in the Princeton Review's list of best colleges in the quality of food. I don't know if I necessarily agree with the idea of picking a school solely on the quality of food. From personal experience, even the best dining hall dishes get repetitive. Sadly, even the decently edible items like chicken or rice often sit out to dry under colossal heating lamps.

Iron chefs take one ingredient and make five completely different dishes from it. Perhaps, this is the way to approach dining hall fare -- to find a basic ingredient that is reliable -- but recurring -- and bring it back to life. Take your typical salad bar, for example. In general, you have access to lettuce, onions, carrots, peppers, tomatoes, cucumbers, chickpeas, and shredded cheese. Salads tend to be a safe dining hall choice, because the veggies get refreshed and resupplied often, but who wants to eat like a rabbit every day? Perhaps, I can offer a solution.

Re-refried beans on Mexican night getting you down? Head to the salad bar -- throw a dash of salt and pepper on cut-up tomatoes and cucumbers for a delicious Israeli salad, and dress up semi-edible corn chips from that miserable burrito bar with homemade hummus -- for a fresh Mediterranean meal.

Feeling ambitious? Try homemade salsa and nachos -- grab those same corn chips, add some cheese, and microwave. Meanwhile, whip up some fresh salsa with tomatoes, onions, peppers, and a dash of Tabasco.

Dessert's a breeze, too. Sure, the root beer from the soda fountain is questionable and off-color some days, but add some vanilla "ice cream" from the frozen yogurt machine, and you'll barely notice.

A College Student's Caffeine Consumption

All I'd like in my dorm is a coffeemaker. I'm a student, juggling five classes (overloading this semester), an internship, homework, and a social life. With luck I sleep. Needless to say, I drink at least one cup a day during a normal week (sometimes 2-3 on a Monday or after an all-nighter). At two bucks a pop (I'm a no frills kinda girl -- none of that mochiata frappalatte nonsense for me) my coffee consumption adds up.

For argument's sake, let's say I drink nine cups of coffee during an average week. That's 18 dollars. Let's not forget about exam weeks -- between studying and stress let's figure an additional seven cups for that week -- which happens twice a semester.

($18 * 15 weeks of the semester) + ($14 * 2 weeks of exams) = $298.00 worth of coffee each semester

I live in what Boston University calls a dormitory-style residence. For $10,170 a year, plus an additional meal plan subsidy, I have a single in a suite. In this single, I am not allowed any other appliances besides a micro-fridge. No appliances means no coffeemaker. For $10,310 I could live in what BU calls apartment-style residences, where I could have said coffeemaker, and all the coffee I wanted, but I would need to worry about additional food costs.

What's the better option? Have I gleaned enough from Iron Chef to be trusted to feed myself without my safety net of a dining plan? Or is the $298.00 reasonable?

Or instead, should colleges rescind their anti-appliance decrees? After all, we grew up with technology. Surely, we can be trusted to turn off the coffeemaker when we leave the room?

Who knows? Until then, Starbucks will continue its death grip on my wallet and coffee-loving soul.