My late mother had many wonderful qualities, but her elitism was not among them. She was extremely judgmental about other people and especially about their food habits.
Since I accompanied her to the grocery store almost all the time from an early age, I had to endure her muttering about the contents of other people’s baskets.
“She gives her children Kool-Aid instead of milk,” she growled about the mother of a friend of mine. About another, whose basket contained a stack of packages of ground beef but no other meat, she sniffed, “That woman only cooks prole food.”
(By using George Orwell’s word for the proletariat from his novel 1984, my mom was also signaling that she was literary. I’ve never been able to figure out why, exactly, she thought being a member of the proletariat was insulting.)
My mother rarely cooked ground beef — we usually had sloppy Joes on Halloween, and she prepared meatloaf occasionally — so she apparently felt justified in scorning dishes that made use of ground beef.
I secretly disagreed with her. I thought she was hypocritical since her own appetite for prole food was frequently on display. No one loved a couple of Coney Island dogs — with chili, cheese and onions atop them, the epitome of prole food — more than my mother.
Besides, as an adolescent I began to realize that people eat the way they do for lots of different reasons: culture, economy, preference, time constraints and so on. To be sniffy about one kind of food — tacos, say, or hot dogs — is to assume that designating other foods as “higher class” will convey some of that prestige on yourself by eating them.
Am I a better person when I eat steamed artichokes with Béarnaise sauce than I am when I stop at a food truck for a Sonoran dog? I think I’m the same person whatever I eat.
Despite her best efforts, my mother couldn’t persuade or convince me to adopt her elitist attitudes about food. Throughout my career as a food writer, I’ve been drawn to foods of all types — from street food (definitely prole food) to high-end restaurant dishes (definitely not).
But one is not better than another, in my view. It’s like comparing an apple to an automobile — they just aren’t the same thing. I hold this opinion about flash-cooked green beans vs. simmered-for-hours Southern-style green beans, too: They are equally delicious, and one is not superior to the other.
In my home kitchen, I sometimes prepare higher-end dishes. But more commonly, especially these days, I prefer streamlined suppers — fish or chicken baked with vegetables in parchment paper packets, or a chicken or small pork roast with vegetables done alongside in the oven.
Every once in a while, though, I get hungry for prole food, and when I do, I make something like this Southwestern goulash. I used the excellent locally-made chorizo from Denmark Foods under its Arizona Fresh label.
I find it leaner than other brands I’ve tried, and its spiciness is exactly where I want it.
The resulting heat level in this goulash, thanks to the chorizo and the tomatoes with diced chiles, made this dish especially lively in my mouth.
SOUTHWESTERN GOULASH
Makes about 6 servings
This dirties only one skillet, if you follow the steps as written. To reheat leftovers, add a tablespoon of water before microwaving, covered, for a couple of minutes.
INGREDIENTS
1 pound Mexican-style chorizo
1 cup elbow macaroni
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 baseball-sized onion, finely chopped
1 green pepper, stemmed and seeded, finely chopped (optional)
2 stalks celery, diced (optional)
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 14.5-ounce can diced tomatoes with chiles
1 tablespoon tomato paste
Garnishes (optional):
Grated cheese as desired — cheddar, Parmesan or shredded Mozzarella
Sliced green onions
Chopped parsley
PREPARATION
In a 12-inch skillet with a tight-fitting lid, cook the chorizo over medium heat, breaking it into small pieces as it cooks. When the chorizo is fully cooked, transfer it to a paper towel to drain. Leave the drippings in the skillet.
Add the macaroni and enough water to cover, about 2 cups. Bring to a boil, reduce heat and cook until the macaroni is tender, about 11 minutes. Drain macaroni and set aside.
Add olive oil to skillet and heat until fragrant, about 1 minute. Stir in the chopped onion, optional green pepper, and optional celery; cook, stirring often, until the onion is translucent, about 5 minutes. Stir in the garlic and cook a minute longer.
Now return the cooked chorizo and the cooked macaroni to the skillet. Stir in diced tomatoes with chiles and their juices and tomato paste and reduce the heat to low. Let the mixture simmer until everything is warmed through, about 10 minutes. If the mixture is too dry, add a little water.
If it’s still too wet, allow to cook an additional 5 minutes, or until the goulash looks right to you. Serve immediately, with optional garnishes, as desired.
