fact or fiction

Is it a fact or is it merely fiction? Fact or Fiction explores the lesser known truths in the food universe.

Bring a Plate
The chickpeas have been sitting in their bowl since last night, fat and smug, and the kitchen window is open because it's November and Auckland has finally decided to commit to spring. Somebody down the road is burning sausages. That smell does what it always does to me. It sends me back fourteen years, to a backyard I couldn't find again if you paid me.
By Gautam Atmakuriabout an hour ago in Feast
I Almost Threw Away a Bag of Green Beans. Then I Made This Cold Salad.
I opened the fridge and found a small bag of green beans at the back. They were left from a stir-fry with shredded pork. The bag had been twisted twice at the top. The beans were still firm, and the color had not gone yellow. I took the bag out and stood by the sink. Two more days and I would have thrown them away. Today I skipped the pork and made a cold vegetable dish.
By Jinabout 20 hours ago in Feast
Your Napa Cabbage Has Two Personalities
You cook a plate of napa cabbage. You put it on the table. The bottom of the plate is wet. Nobody reaches for a second piece. You blame the cabbage: bland, watery, nothing to it.
By Jinabout 20 hours ago in Feast
Eggs First: My Mother’s Fifteen-Second Rule for Chive and Egg
The wok has to be hot enough to smoke before the oil goes in. The oil slides around the bottom, hisses, and then the beaten eggs go in. Don’t rush to stir. Wait until the edges set, then push the spatula from the edge toward the center, pushing the eggs into large curds. Take them out when they are eight-tenths done. Tilt the spatula to lift them so you don’t carry the oil out with them. Leave a little oil in the wok for the chives. The chives are already cut, stems and leaves separate, washed and shaken dry. Tip them in. A loud hiss. The wok breath rushes up. Ten seconds or so, the leaves collapse, the color turns from dark to bright. Put the eggs back, flip twice, turn off the heat, plate it.
By Jinabout 20 hours ago in Feast
The Last Pot of Zhijiang Duck
The duck stall at the back of the market belonged to a man named Yang. The ducks ranged on the slope behind his house. During the years I had my shop, I got there before seven every morning. Master Yang never had to ask. His knife was already sharpened.
By Jinabout 20 hours ago in Feast
The Water Spinach Test
I In summer, at the row of stalls against the wall in the vegetable market, an old woman sits at the back. She does not call out. Two bamboo baskets sit in front of her. One holds sweet potato leaves. The other holds water spinach. The spinach still has mud on its roots. The stems are as long as a finger. The leaves are thin as willow leaves. Each bunch is tied with straw. The bunches are not neat, but every stalk is firm. Pinch a stem and it snaps. A little juice shows at the break. Ask how she grows it, and she says: “When I turn the soil, I put in soybean meal fertilizer, and chicken manure too. Only after it is fully composted. Once true leaves come out, I water on compound fertilizer once. After that, just water. In the week before picking, I give it no fertilizer at all.”
By Jinabout 20 hours ago in Feast
The Four Shrimp Dishes I Make When Guests Come Over
When guests come, the plate I worry about least is the big one. A bag of large shrimp in the fridge means the meal already has an ending. I have tried blanching, oil-braising, garlic-steaming, and salt-and-pepper frying. These four have become my guest menu. They do not require culinary school. They look like they do.
By Jina day ago in Feast
Super Sandwich
When I was a kid, I got stage fright often, overwhelmed by choices, people, crowded spaces... But it was at family gatherings I exercised the most caution.
By Maddy Newta day ago in Feast
The Ramen Wars of Culinary School
In culinary school, they teach you to respect food. They teach you the mother sauces. They teach you knife cuts with names that sound like ballet moves. They teach you to taste everything, season in layers, and never send out a plate you would not be proud to eat yourself. I graduated with honors, and I took every bit of that seriously.
By Overdrive Records11 days ago in Feast
The Bowl That Never Had a Name
It was after midnight and the only light in the kitchen was the one above the stove. His mother had already gone to bed. His sister was upstairs with the door closed. He was sixteen and still awake because the house felt too quiet after his father left for the second time that year. He opened the refrigerator because he did not know what else to do with his hands.
By Overdrive Records12 days ago in Feast
Just a nibble
I’m at the beach by myself, and I decide to lay down in the sand and close my eyes and enjoy the sound of the waves. A woman standing nearby starts singing, it’s a song about the water.
By Sam Spinelli13 days ago in Feast
Squirm Factor
Written by a human, for humans, always. This is a Vocal-exclusive article. Not what I normally write about in my Daily Articles.
By H.E. Dr. Cody Dakota Wooten, COIE, DFM, DHM14 days ago in Feast