Ate a pot of quinoa the other night, which is unusual for me. Quinoa has always tasted like dust, only made up of larger particles. The texture, if cooked properly, is okay-very slight crunch, soft inside. But since the best part of a grain is its texture, that slight resistance splitting open into a creamy inside, quinoa is unexciting. Beans, for instance (I guess that’s a legume, no matter), or wheatberries, whose giant crunch makes up for wimpy guts.
The rare instance of a delicious overcooked bean is the Boston baked bean, which is so doused in sugar and molasses and sweet onions, that in the end, who really cares? Yet, having thrown in a few pinches of chopped scallion and mint, a little lemon juice and olive oil, I found myself hovering over the pot, chowing quinoa with a sizeable metal spoon. The lemon, olive oil, and the herbs were flavorful enough to dissolve the dust factor
We keep a bowl of kosher salt on the stove at all times. Also at all times, after cooking, the surfaces resemble a midwestern town post-blizzard. Placing the pot in the sink, towel at the ready to scoop up the salt, I noticed a clean stovetop. No salt mess. For once I hadn’t used any salt. Which got me thinking.
We all know food tastes better with salt. Yet by itself, salt is vile. Yes, there’s chemistry involved here, but in the macro view, especially in our brave new crunchy organic food world, theoretically, food should taste good as is. Ask the ultra-seasonal chef for whom off-season cooking is a virtual crime.
In-season berries, tomatoes, apples (our specialty), etc. are uneatable precisely because they taste as nature intended, adulteration unnecessary. So why not glorify any food that tastes as it should, such as a good burger or, yes, a pot of quinoa. Yet to serve an unsalted burger, bean salad, or curried vegetables is criminal.
It’s sort of sad, I suppose, akin to some sort of environmental violation, bending nature’s intentions to fit our desires. Thirty years ago, it was rare to see a 300-pound nose tackle. Now these guys are undrafted and ignored unless they’re well over that ungodly poundage. To weigh 320, one must adopt a porcine lifestyle, face hovering over feeding trough, breaking only for sleep and practice. It’s a habit as unintended by God as raining salt over everything in sight. But football is no more enjoyable because these guys weigh a ton. And so it follows that we’d adapt, over time, to less, or even zero, salt.
Except for the egg, which throws a wrench in my entire argument. Particularly a bit of salt drizzled over a pan of scrambled eggs, in which the seasoning works its way into the eggy crevices, creating scrumptiousness. Same goes for a tiny pinch of the stuff coating the thin, translucent surface of a poached egg, which, when pricked with a fork, absorbs the seasoning into its exploding, creamy yolk. A poached egg on toast or English muffin is even better since the faintly salty interior seeps into the bread’s crevices.
Maybe crevice is the defining word in the salt argument. But at least when it comes to eggs, I’ll guiltlessly and greedily grab the salt bowl any day.
(NOTE: You may notice from two posts ago, this is another sous vide egg. Not necessary: a poached egg will be just as good or better.)
Sous Vide (or Poached) Egg with Sea Salt
Serves 4
4 large eggs
olive oil
1 baguette or other form of crusty bread, sliced (1/2 inch)
Sea salt
- Bring the water to 142. Gently add the eggs and cook 45 minutes or up to 3 hours. Or poach the things.
- Meanwhile, drizzle olive oil over the bread and toast until golden.
- If you’re doing the sous vide thing, peeling is a little annoying. Peel about an inch off the large end of the egg, hold the open end over a bowl. It’ll just slide out. If poaching, just remove and drain on paper towels.
- Rest the eggs on the toast, sprinkle with sea salt and serve alongside a little cup of extra salt.
