W7 Blog

     The answer behind big companies and secret recipes is simple. It makes the consumer feel like they are getting something exclusive and worthwhile. That secret recipe at KFC is catered to you as an individual. You are being let in on a big secret through delicious, cheap chicken. It also makes the massive fast food corporations feel much more personal and family-oriented. Ronald McDonald and his Big Mac secret sauce is right up there with your great grandmother's Christmas recipe that has been carefully passed down for generations. Both meals invoke the same feeling of happiness and warm emotions that can be traced back to the yonder days of one’s childhood. 

     As for a more personal spiel about secret recipes, my father has one that I learned just recently. Many Saturday morning, I would wake to a fresh stack of steaming pancakes. Fresh off the grill, you could still smell the cooking batter and seared fruits that permeated the center of each pancake. My father would dice fresh fruits and throw them in the bubbling concoction. As I wolfed down stacks of 5 pancakes, he would always lecture me about his secret ingredient. It was an ingredient that he held responsible for the amazing taste. I personally attributed it to my father simply being a good cook who always puts lots of emotion and care into his food.

     Recently, in one of our weekly exchanges of e-mail, my father hinted that he would reveal the secret to his amazing pancakes. I quickly jumped at the first glint of truth. After another four e-mails of hounding, he reluctantly revealed the secret. It turned out he puts water into his batter instead of milk. This shocked me; I never thought such a small difference could make for a drastic change in flavor. Once the answer was revealed, I investigated myself.

     I went to Wal Mart with my girlfriend and bought ingredients to test the legitimacy of his secret ingredient. After just one comparison meal, the answer was obvious. His secret ingredient really did make a difference. The pancakes made with water went down much easier than the ones made with milk. It just seemed to clog your throat much less with all the syrup and fruits in the middle. You could best imagine it as the difference between strong after taste of diet soda and the smooth, consistent flavor of soda that featured sugar in place of aspartame.  

     Despite all of my father’s teasing, I have finally learned his secret pancake ingredient. Although it may not be coveted nation-wide like the hidden ingredients of Dr. Pepper, it makes the chains that bond my family lane that much stronger. It will be yet another tidbit to pass on my children one day. 

W6 Blog

     Ramen is a food that is known to Americans all over the nation. In fact, it has become a staple food of countless college students. According to Wikipedia.org, it has also come to be an economic indicator for America. Our recent struggle with economic depression has resulted in ramen sales gradually increasing.

     Ramen first came to our shores in the 1970 in the form of instant ramen. Despite being incredibly different from Japan's original counterpart, instant ramen met huge success in both Japan and America. Instant ramen was actually a flop when it first deputed in Japan. The president of Nissin foods would not give up though. He kept his instant ramen in stores and it suddenly became a huge hit.

     These days, the number one ramen company in America is called maruchan. Maruchan initially worked for nissin foods as an importer and distributor of ramen. After seeing how much money nissin foods was making, maruchan decided to break off and make their own instant ramen company. Maruchan met massive success and now its products can be found nestled in almost every dorm on campus.

W4 blog

     Making a menu to represent America is a daunting task to say the least. America has always been known as a melting pot of various cultures, peoples, and beliefs. And most difficulty, America is known for incorporating food from all around the world.

     I would take my restaurant's menu down a very traditional rout. I would draw on meals that the original colonists enjoyed. I feel that pulling from the deepest roots in America's history will yield the most authentic American cuisine.

    One staple food I would build my menu around is corn. It has been with America ever since its inception. And more importantly, corn is commonly ate to this day.

     My menu would include deer meat roasted and covered in various spices. Furthermore, a sweet currant sauce would be slathered all over the meat. As a final touch, I would lightly sprinkle corn over the finished product. Another dish I would incorporate corn into would be the all-American chicken pot pie. It would be filled to the brim with corn, carrots, onions, and hearty cuts of chicken.

     I would make America's historical alcohols available too. Hard apple cider would be a must for the menu. And more importantly, my restaurant would host a legion of American beers. I would be sure to have beer from all regions of America. The quality America has upheld with it's beer would be made known to many other countries.

     Meats were very select when the colonists initially came. My menu would feature dishes that use deer, turkey, and even bear meat. I would make delicious deer and turkey jerky readily available to my customer. The Jerky was also be sold at the register as a nice parting snack.

     The most expensive entree in my menu would be bear meat and potatoes. The meat would be slow roasted and heavily seasoned. It would be a very unique dish that most other countries do not have available.

     As for desserts, I would incorporate many chocolate dishes. There would be strong cocoa and bitter chocolate. There would also be a very wide array of pies available. Every fruit under the sun and even some vegetables would find their way into a pie crust.

     My restaurant goal would be to make a delicious meals that you can't find anywhere else. I would also want to stress the origins of America and try to remind people all around the world that there was delicious foods long before Christoper Columbes set sail.

Supersize ME Movie Response

     Before my first viewing of Supersize Me, I had a general idea of what the movie was about. Many people had described certain scenes or praised the comedic value. Thanks to all the word of mouth, I was confident in knowing what the movie would entail. Morgan Spurlock argues that fast food is not nutritious for you at all and that the initial lawsuits against McDonalds did have a basis.

     The movie starts out in a cheery manner. We are briefed on obesity in America through catchy imagery and eye-opening facts. Then the movies protagonist poses an interesting question. What if he ate nothing but McDonalds food as a diet? And so the movie begins.

     Morgan employed many techniques and different scenes to drive his point across. The one that struck me the hardest was his unfortunate run-in with the double quarter pounder supersize meal. (Try saying that 5 times fast!)

     On his third meal, he purchases a suspersize double quarter pounder meal. He first opens his bag like a kid on Christmas. Each part of his meal is shown to the camera. The colossal coke, gargantuan fries, and humongous burger. During this whole presentation, he is grinning abnormally wide. Things change as he starts eating that behemoth meal. 

     Black screens showing elapsed time informs the viewers of how long he struggles to consume all the food he's purchased. His smile slowly turns into a frown. After his eventual victory over the meal, he lays in his car lethargically. With sickness plastered on his face, he informs the viewer of his poor condition. Quaking arms from excessive sugar. Pangs of stomach pain. While vainly trying to assert that his condition is fine, his body disagrees. He spills out all that partially-digested food moments later.

      The sudden and stark change in Morgan's personality showed just how rough the foods are on your body. His words and response in that scene was very gritty and believable. At the end of the whole fiasco, you are left feeling a little sick yourself. And more importantly, you feel disgusted when you think back to the last double quarter pounder you ate.

     The second most striking part was when the various doctors completely change their view on the fast food diet. This let me know how unknown the dangers of fast food were. Even these extremely educated citizens were shocked and appalled by the aftermath this seemingly innocent diet made.
    
     At the climax of things, his doctors beg him to stop his Mcdonalds diet. They are shocked at the damage it has wrecked on his body and tell him what may be in his future. Death. His innocent fast-food diet might just snuff out his life. He has been constantly consuming food SO bad for his body that it could cause his liver to give out.

    Sadly, the movie did not always present such a compelling argument to me. The most ineffective scene to me was when he interviews an overweight girl. The long speech simply seemed out of place.

    A young teen is casually sitting outside on a nice summer day. The viewer listens to a long monologue about weight. She tells about the constant pressure put on by the media to have these skinny bodies. At one point, she calls them possible to obtain. And all the while, pictures of models begin to fill the screen before completely enveloping her.

    I understood that it emphasized some of the psychological consequences of being overweight. I could not figure out where it tied in with the fast food industry though. Although fast food industry may have been partially responsible for her weight gain, it does not control all print and television media. It just felt very out of place and unneeded when put in relation to the movie's main argument. 

     I thoroughly enjoyed the movie and found the conclusion to be amazing. It comes to reassert his argument nicely and leaves a very happy ending. The conclusion also showed what happened once his argument was brought into the light.

     Much to my relief, he pulls through and returns to his previous state of health. The post-movie facts leave me happy. His no-name movie comes to receive critical-acclaim. Soon, people all over America are exposed to the true danger Mcdonalds food can bring to you. His movie also causes Mcdonalds to remove their supersize option. This meant the most to me. He informed every viewer that one man can make a difference in the world.

W3 Blog

Through my life, personal teachers of the culinary arts have been few and far between. Such rarity has made me appreciate my lessons that much more. The meals I have learned to cook differ greatly. My experiences range from all-American grills to concise Japanese meals.

      One of the most memorable teachers I have ever had lies many years in the past. During my junior year of high school, I exchanged to Japan. Throughout the exchange, there was times where all the current exchange students from my city would meet up and have events together. Considering the many diverse backgrounds that we all brought to the table, it was easy to see why everyone looked forward to these meetings.

     One chilly fall day, I biked through my town to the building where everyone was going to meet. I remember being very excited. My body shivered from both the bitter cold and eager anticipation. Once I arrived, the standard procedures began.

     Everyone gave their speeches. These usually lasted no more than 5 minutes per person. All exchangers stifled their yawns and feigned attention. You could only hear the same speech in broken Japanese so many times.

     After the speeches were done, the head Rotarians split us into groups. We all talked feverishly about what we would be doing next. Soon, we stared at the ground in wonder. They had all unfolded bright blue cloth, revealing a line of small hollow sticks with string laced through each end.

     It seemed like the lining you put at the bottom of your bathtub to keep you from slipping. The head Rotarian stood up and spoke in some unintelligible Japanese. At some point in the flurry of words, I picked up "sushi." Our fevered talking started once more.

     In a few moments, my host father meandered over to show us the process. He held up the mat of sticks and rolled it into a tube slowly. His lack of English skills forced us into watching a series of exaggerated charades.

     A few moments later, bowels were distributed to each group. Each one contained a different ingredient. Bowls of seaweed, fish meat, vegetables, and rice were splayed about. First, my host father laid a flat sheet of seaweed on the stringed sticks. He then grabbed a hunk of rice and smoothed it across the seaweed thickly. Finally delicately inserted bits of fish into the rice.

     After these steps, he stared at me with a wide smile. He delicately lifted the stringed sticks and rolled it into a tube once more. The rice and fish were all compacted into the center and the seaweed connected to itself in one glorious motion. After that, he grabbed a knife from another table.

     He effortlessly sliced the tube of sushi into individual slices. I remember the wide eyes every exchanger at my table bore. I never thought that sushi could be so easy to make.

     After that, he distributed a stick-mat to every one of us. That said mat still sits in my parents kitchen to this day. The wordless instructions have never left me. And on chilly fall days, his silent guidance helps me make a delicious meal for my family. My host father has unintentionally instilled something in me that time will never erase.

W3 Blog

    
Through my life, personal teachers of the culinary arts have been few and far between. Such rarity has made me appreciate my lessons that much more. The meals I have learned to cook differ greatly. My experiences range from all-American grills to concise Japanese meals.

      One of the most memorable teachers I have ever had lies many years in the past. During my junior year of high school, I exchanged to Japan. Throughout the exchange, there was times where all the current exchange students from my city would meet up and have events together. Considering the many diverse backgrounds that we all brought to the table, it was easy to see why everyone looked forward to these meetings.

     One chilly fall day, I biked through my town to the building where everyone was going to meet. I remember being very excited. My body shivered from both the bitter cold and eager anticipation. Once I arrived, the standard procedures began.

     Everyone gave their speeches. These usually lasted no more than 5 minutes per person. All exchangers stifled their yawns and feigned attention. You could only hear the same speech in broken Japanese so many times.

     After the speeches were done, the head Rotarians split us into groups. We all talked feverishly about what we would be doing next. Soon, we stared at the ground in wonder. They had all unfolded bright blue cloth, revealing a line of small hollow sticks with string laced through each end.

     It seemed like the lining you put at the bottom of your bathtub to keep you from slipping. The head Rotarian stood up and spoke in some unintelligible Japanese. At some point in the flurry of words, I picked up "sushi." Our fevered talking started once more.

     In a few moments, my host father meandered over to show us the process. He held up the mat of sticks and rolled it into a tube slowly. His lack of English skills forced us into watching a series of exaggerated charades.

     A few moments later, bowels were distributed to each group. Each one contained a different ingredient. Bowls of seaweed, fish meat, vegetables, and rice were splayed about. First, my host father laid a flat sheet of seaweed on the stringed sticks. He then grabbed a hunk of rice and smoothed it across the seaweed thickly. Finally delicately inserted bits of fish into the rice.

     After these steps, he stared at me with a wide smile. He delicately lifted the stringed sticks and rolled it into a tube once more. The rice and fish were all compacted into the center and the seaweed connected to itself in one glorious motion. After that, he grabbed a knife from another table.

     He effortlessly sliced the tube of sushi into individual slices. I remember the wide eyes every exchanger at my table bore. I never thought that sushi could be so easy to make.

     After that, he distributed a stick-mat to every one of us. That said mat still sits in my parents kitchen to this day. The wordless instructions have never left me. And on chilly fall days, his silent guidance helps me make a delicious meal for my family. My host father has unintentionally instilled something in me that time will never erase.

W2 Blog

     During the softer moments of my hectic college life, I often reminisce about the foods I had in Japan. Flavors unique and unforgettable. When I compare them with the ever so consistent meals of Ohio University, my yearning to revisit Japan mysteriously materializes. It materializes in the form of stomach groans and poached lips. The dryness that you have to run your tongue over right before Thanksgiving.

     Before my first time visiting Japan, there was some foods I swore I would never try. Some things seemed so alien to me that the thought of enjoying them was preposterous. One food that stood above others was eel. Just the sight of them on the discovery channel sent hairs prickling on my neck. At one point, I entertained the idea of trying eel on my exchange. It resulted in a rash of goosebumps and audible sounds of disgust.

     One hot summer day in Japan, my host father came home with a ornate box. It was wrapped in ribbon and featured a pair of chopsticks slipped into the top bow. The sight of it immediately excited me. I hoped for nothing more than a box of ice cubes. Up until that point, my day was spent waving a fan in my face and practicing how to complain in Japanese.

     In retrospect, it seems the word of my no-no foods was leaked to several host families. My host dad revealed a slight smirk as he placed the food in front of me. The box was slowly untied after I gave my thanks. The moment I opened it, a wave of smell bombarded me. And all of the sudden, I was very hungry.

     I quickly dug into the food without a single question. The mystery meat was very sweet and soft. Something akin to baby back ribs ripe to fall off the bone. The box had a small pool of sauce that engulfed the fish. It made it's presence known. I could still taste that distinct hint of ocean despite that.

     After a few minutes of inhaling food, I turned to my father and inquired about what my lunch was. He quickly spat out the word. It was obvious he could barely contain his laughter. He walked into the other room and splayed on the couch, holding his sides in guffaws.

     I was in momentary shock after realizing I had just ate an underwater, electric snake. Time did it's work though. My initial anger quickly subsided. I found myself doing something I never thought. I entered my father's room the next day and asked for more eel in the near future.