Cooking Under Quarantine: What I Learned During Week One
When you don’t know what you’re going to find on supermarket shelves, it pay to stock up on versatile staples, be flexible in menu planning, and get a little improvisational in the kitchen
What a grocery cart looks like the first night of lockdown. Photo by Hugh Garvey
I didn’t plan on cooking as opulent and inappropriately celebratory a dish as swordfish the first night of lockdown. Nor over the next week did I expect to boil kale stalks into submission, actually enjoy a variation on much-maligned pea guacamole, eat cauliflower three days in a row, and yell at my kids for not following my egg-rationing edict.
All things considered, the nuances of technique, flavor, and personal taste are petty concerns. But as an editor and cookbook author, I’ve relied on food as not just my livelihood, but also as entertainment, creative outlet, and in the past week, my primary escape. The world may be ending, but I’m not going to go down without a (food) fight. I needed do what it took to keep my wife and two teenagers fed and happy, and myself sane. The tragedy of lost lives and jobs, the hopeless headlines, the isolation: The sadness and anxiety I feel about these realities ease when the knives come out, the flame is on, and the family is hungry and waiting. Cooking and eating (and the attendant cocktail) have become the highlight of these dark days.
Stocking up on Staples
I was in my car when Governor Gavin Newsom told Californians they needed to stay home for a month. Earlier that day I’d heard two radio stations play Prince’s 1999, perhaps for the last time before the gallows humor party vibe gave way to real panic. Four days prior Mayor Eric Garcetti had placed restrictions on dining in, gathering in public places, and conducting non-essential business. Toilet paper, cleaning supplies, and water were already disappearing from grocery store shelves and I knew they’d be cleaned out come morning. So I set a course for the supermarket, pulled into the lot, and took the last open parking space.
Inside the lines were already long and I made a beeline to the butcher counter. The dwindling supplies of meat I’d observed on recent trips to the grocery store had confirmed what I suspected about Angelenos: The rumors of rampant vegetariansm have been greatly exaggerated. Apparently during a pandemic the meat sells out first. Call it fight or feast.
Which is how I ended up with the swordfish: It was the last package of fish in the case and apart from an $85 prime rib roast it was the last piece of fresh protein in the meat and fish department. My vision suddenly started translating the caloric value of every purchase: Swordfish is a fatty meat; skip the lean chicken breast, go for the rich thigh; buy the tuna in olive oil. And hell no don’t drain it.
Don’t Discount Anything
The pasta aisle was cleared out but then I remembered the neglected gluten-free pasta section over by the now empty rotisserie chicken broiler. There were 6 packs of fresh mushroom ravioli. Expiration date? One mounth out. Okay, that’s suspiciously long, but I’ll take ‘em all. Near the yogurt somebody had discarded two packs of bone-in lamb loin chops. Score! I grabbed a bottle of bourbon and got in line between a guy with a cannabis-appliqued balaclava and a woman wearing surgical gloves and an N95 mask. I looked at my random haul of corn chips, arugula, factory Chianti, and Havarti. When was the last time I bought Havarti? When would I able to buy cheese again? The checkout guy saw my stack of gluten-free ravioli and nodded: “You figured out the gluten-free pasta trick. I just taught that one to my wife.” When I walked out into the parking lot some twenty cars were circling looking for an open space. I haven’t back back there since, but I’ve cooked just about everything I bought that night. Here is some of what I’ve learned and cooked so far.
Clean Everything When You Get Home
Like many people these days, my virus vision is on high alert and at the store I can’t help but notice the multiple touch points and pass-along opportunities the supermarket presents: The frontline checkout clerk and bagger touch hundreds if not thousands of items hundreds of people have touched. Gloves or no, it’s a risky situation for them and for the people buying food. While hand-to-hand transmission appears to be low, experts recommend thoroughly rinsing vegetables and cleaning bottles and boxes and bags when you get home. I’ve also set up a iPhone, car-key, and eyeglass sanitizing station by the kitchen sink. I loaded a used soap dispenser with a 70/30 mix of rubbing alcohol and water and keep it by a stack of C-fold towels.
Recipes Are Nice, but Don’t Sweat the Details
Driving around town looking for that ¼ cup of crème fraîche obviously does not fall into the category of essential travel. Cook with what you’ve got. Leave out an herb. Sub in a spice (chipotle and smoked paprika are one-for-one substitutes). The open secret in food media is that most food editors, writers, stylists, and recipe developers don’t cook from recipes. It’s not that they’re intuitive savants born with an innate knowledge of what goes with what, but are confident enough to go off-script. And this is an off-script moment if there ever was one. So brown that butter, swap lemon juice for vinegar (or vice versa) and if the only parsley you can find is curly, then you do retro you. Make chili with chickpeas and chicken satay with almond butter, and build a salad from celery. This is the time to experiment and gain that confidence. No labneh lying around? That’s what yogurt was made for. Just load it into a fine mesh strainer and let the excess water drip out into bowl. Top with dill or whatever fresh herb you might have, some sumac or smoked paprika, and call it a dip (or instant sauce for grilled meat and poultry).
Use Every Last Thing
After stripping the woody stalks from a bunch of kale, I chopped them up, cooked them in salted water, tossed them with olive oil, salt, and a magical chili powder from Majordomo Meat and Fish. We had crunchy salty snacks that evening, and frittata, grain-bowl, and salad components for the next two days.
Practice Protein Portion Control
Move beyond the monolithic slab of meat and use said proteins as a secondary element rather than the honking star of the show. It’s cheaper, will stretch out your meat supply, and, frankly, is much better for your health. A little leftover corned beef, pimenton chickpeas, black rice, and the last of the broccoli is a perfectly balanced (and cheap-ish) dish.
Deploy Those Frozen Peas
We got into the habit of keeping some frozen peas on hand as ice packs for bumps and bruises for the kids when they were little. My wife threw some into the food processor with some parmesan, mint salt, garlic, and a little lemon juice and made an addictive dip that rivals guacamole. Fighting words I know.
Take It Outside
Grill as much as possible. My pyro impulses have flared up and I’ve been cooking outside, because a) grilling makes things taste good. Even if it’s just a jalapeño. And b) cooking over fire is transporting and calming.
Pickled Tangy Crunchy Salty Things Lift a Dish (and Spirits)
Capers, pepperoncini, dill pickles, and other brined things sprinkled on a piece of meat, a salad, a simple bowl of rice and beans, or that fifth quesadilla of the week elevates the dish. Here they add briny tangy pop to the rich swordfish (anointed with comforting brown butter).
Grab the Bulgogi by the Horns
Any darned meat can be the basis of deeply flavored, super satisfying bulgogi. All you really need to hack a decent approximation is soy sauce, finely chopped ginger, brown sugar, finely chopped garlic, and a toasted sesame oil. I improvise mine but if you’ve got the ingredients, try this Korean-style beef and noodle salad.
