Process Writing

This class was amazing. Do I need to say anything more? Seriously though, I feel like I have grown so much throughout the last ten weeks, and in so many ways. This class coincided so wonderfully with my other two classes. I don’t know when this will happen to me again, but I hope that it does. I could find so often themes that intertwined between all three of the subjects I was studying; Food & Travel, Social Psychology, and Anthropology & Sociology. 

I struggled somewhat through my Journalism I class. I felt that I was not at all cut out for my previous views on Journalism. Though I still may never be able to be Carrie Bradshaw, I had so much fun writing this quarter. I feel now that I have a voice on the page and I can and should do this. I am actually proud of the work that I have done, which has been a difficult thing for me thus far. I have always felt that writing was so forced, but now I have a different perspective. FUN! 

Though it was difficult for me to keep up with the blog posts and comments, I am glad that we used blogs in this class. Not only are blogs the way of the future, but they were also very interactive and fun. It was nice to be able to include pictures with our works and also to be able to link articles to go into more depth over topics we wished to cover. Blogs are also so much more personal. Call me silly, but it was much like Facebook. You can post pictures, keep up with friends, and speak your mind. This is important and the new age of Journalism!

This class helped me in deciding what the future holds for me, and I hope it did the same for the rest of you. As Marin has said, I feel so much that I have grown and learned so much with the rest of you. You are all such beautiful people and I have enjoyed the discussions and lessons I have shared with each of you. Please continue to keep me updated with your lives, send me links to the next blogs you create! Thank you, thank you, thank you.

La Casa de Disaster - Revised

(Written for the Jackson Citizen Patriot)


Upon entering the month old La Casa de Rodriguez, the diner is greeted by one of four Jacksonian girls. All look no older than college age, and are eager to sit you down and get you started.

La Casa advertises “authentic” Mexican and Tex Mex cuisine on the establishment’s web page. This makes La Casa Jackson’s second take on Mexican cuisine, as we are also home to Los Tres Amigos. 

La Casa is located on Wildwood Avenue, in the building formerly home to a failed ice cream and hotdog shop. It’s sign stands out, which is good because it’s building is hidden between two other businesses. While Wildwood is common stomping grounds to those in need of a car repair or on their way to the airport, Jacksonians searching for a bite may easily pass over La Casa.

Even if a driver does happen upon La Casa, they would be better served to stick with the old, and say out with the new.

Looking from the walk-up cash register and kitchen area next to the door, a few potted plants separate the dining area from the empty, tiled “lobby.” Though snow covers the one row of cars found outside the two windows of la Casa’s dining room, patrons may be transported to a summer picnic scene via tasteless plastic red and white checkered table cloths covering each table. Picnics are meant to stay outside, and plastic tablecloths are better served at the children’s table at family gatherings. Mismatching chairs make a customer wonder whether to turn and run.

Salsa music is barely heard over the roar of the kitchen, which makes little sense after seeing just one cook. Nothing, save the restaurant’s still under-construction website, screams “authentic.”  Maybe the Eduardo Fuss and Diego Rivera plastic framed pictures hanging strategically between windows.

The scene is that of older couples searching for a quick bite. With waitresses running from table to table, the nicest of which is in training, a diner immediately senses the urgency of the typical American meal; cheap and fast. Turn and run.

Patrons may wish to begin their meal with unlimited chips and salsa, but should not expect a refill. Maybe they will be asked again when the food has arrived and they are no longer necessary. The salsa choices are two, hot and mild, and resemble nothing more than a watery store bought can of  Pace or Chi Chi’s. Not horrible though, free as it is. The hot salsa holds quite a kick. It leaves the tongue tingly and begging for water, which is a reminder that the complimentary water has yet to be refilled.

If the customer is feeling adventurous or simply wishes to make up for the lack of a tortilla chip refill, they can order an appetizer. Chicken filled flautas may spike their interest, but remember to ask for them extra hot or you may just end up with lukewarm. Mexican egg rolls are also offered as part of the appetizer menu, and upon the arrival of the flautas, a patron may wonder if the chef has gotten them confused. Wrapped as tightly as an egg roll would be, the four rolls are covered in a spicy salsa and overpowered with onions. Opting for a fork and knife, the fluffy fried layers fall apart when cut and the center is lukewarm at best.

Upon ordering entrees, do not expect to know what you will be eating, though a brief description is included on the menu. Waitresses do not know the difference between a chimichanga and a wet burrito. Maybe the waitresses haven’t had time to learn, or maybe most customers don’t feel the need to ask, they just want to get in and out.

The dinner menu is vast and after some contemplation, orders may be made. Make sure you remember it’s name though, because you are bound to be asked again and again. “Sir, did you want chicken or beef in the chimichanga,” or “Miss, did you say hot or mild salsa?”

When as last a customer makes an order, the food will be out before the menu has been closed. Maybe for this credit is due. Many Americans are looking for a quick bite, and so this would satisfy most customers, older couples on date night not looking to spend much time with their partner.

Maybe due to the quickness of the food preparation, the entrees are also cold. Though a waitress would not know the answer, it can only be imagined that the main ingredient, for the beef in particular, is salt. Only a few bites can be withstood before trying desperately to slurp up what water is left beneath the ice. The salt does not allow for great food intake, and with a full belly upon leaving La Casa, it again feels empty just an hour later. It is an experience much like quickly devouring American Chinese food covered in soy sauce.

If you opt for the chicken route, better luck may follow. Though thin cuts, the blackened grilled chicken breast has great flavor. Similar to fajitas, but with a fancier name and housed under the “traditional Mexican dishes” menu, Carne a la Parilla lacked a skillet and common veggie fixings. Grilled onions served as a satisfactory side as well as refried beans and rice mixed with peas and carrots. (Again, much like eating browned Chinese rice!) 

The beef wet burrito and chimichanga tasted similar save a tortilla versus a fluffed and crunchy outer shell, respectively. A simple beef taco completed  the “choose your own three” entree. For those feeling like reliving their college cafeteria days, give this dish a try.

All in all, La Casa seems yet another Jackson trend. Once the few who actively and often take Wildwood Avenue have tried and been disappointed by the Mexican cuisine, it will be yet another failed small business endeavor. Non-strategically located, and with a fierce competitor in Los Tres Amigos, La Casa’s days are numbered.

La Casa de Disaster

  Upon entering the Casa de Rodriguez, one will be greeted by one of four Jacksonian girls. All look no older than college age, and none appear to have even a hint of latino in them.

But la Casa offers authentic Mexican cuisine.

Looking from the walk-up cash register and kitchen area next to the door, a few potted plants separate the dining area from the empty, tiled “lobby.” Though snow covers the one row of cars found outside the two windows of la Casa’s dining room, one may be transported to summer  through the tasteless plastic red and white checkered table cloths covering each table. Mismatching chairs makes one wonder whether to turn and run.

Salsa music is barely heard over the roar of the kitchen, which makes little sense after seeing only one cook, thankfully, latino. Nothing, save the month-old restaurants under-construction website, screams “authentic.”  Maybe the Eduardo Fuss and Diego Rivera plastic framed pictures hanging strategically between windows.

The scene is that of older sloppy couples searching for a quick bite. With waitresses running from table to table, the nicest of which is in training, one senses the urgency of the typical American meal; cheap and fast. Here again, one should turn and run.

One may begin their meal with unlimited chips and salsa, but should not expect a refill. Maybe one will be asked again when the food has arrived and they are no longer necessary. The salsa choices are two, hot and mild, and resemble nothing more than a watery store bought can of  Pace or Chi Chi’s. Not horrible though, free as it is. The hot salsa holds quite a kick. It leaves the tongue tingly and begging for water, which reminds one that their water has still not been refilled.

If one is feeling adventurous, they may wish to try an appetizer. With few choices, and all sounding relatively safe, flautas may spike one’s interest, just remember to ask for them extra hot. Mexican egg rolls are also served and upon the arrival of the flautas, one may wonder if the chef has gotten them confused. Wrapped as one would imagine an egg roll would be, the four rolls are covered in a spicy salsa and overpowered with onions. Opting for a fork and knife, the fluffy fried layers fall apart when cut and the center is lukewarm at best.

Upon ordering entrees, do not expect to know what you will be eating. Other than a brief description on the menu, waitresses do not know the difference between a chimichanga and a wet burrito. The little knowledge may be paired directly with the unwillingness to learn. Maybe most customers don’t feel the need to ask, they just want to get in and out.

The dinner menu is vast and after some contemplation, orders may be made. Make sure you remember it’s name though, because you are bound to be asked again and again. “Sir, did you want chicken or beef in the chimichanga,” or “Miss, did you say hot or mild salsa?”

When as last one does order, the food will be out before you’ve closed the menu. Maybe for this credit is due. Many Americans are looking for a quick bite, and so this would satisfy most customers, older couples on date night not looking to spend much time with their partner.

Maybe due to the quickness of the food preparation, the entrees are also cold. Though a waitress would not know the answer, one can only imagine that the main ingredient, for the beef in particular, is salt. One can only withstand a few bites before trying desperately to slurp up what water is left beneath the ice. The salt does not allow for great food intake, and one leaves feeling full, but hungry an hour later. Don’t believe in la Casa’s authenticity, Americanized Chinese food dose the same darn thing!

If you opt for the chicken route, you are in for better luck. Though thin cuts, the blackened grilled chicken breast has great flavor. Similar to fajitas, but with a fancier name and housed under the “traditional Mexican dishes” menu, Carne a la Parilla lacked a skillet and common veggie fixings. Grilled onions served as a satisfactory side as well as refried beans and rice. 

The beef wet burrito and chimichanga tasted similar save a tortilla versus a fluffed and crunchy outer shell, respectively. A simple beef taco completed  the “choose your own three” entree. For one nostalgic of their college’s cafeteria, this meal would do just fine.

All in all, la Casa seems yet another Jackson trend. Once the few who actively and often take Wildwood Ave. have tried and been disappointed by the Mexican cuisine, it will be yet another failed small business endeavor. Non-strategically located, la Casa’s days are numbered.

Pre-Meal Jitters!

Finding an “authentic” or “ethnic” restaurant proved highly difficult in Jackson, as I’d imagined it would. That is the price I payed for being home for the weekend though. After tirelessly searching www.urbanspoon.com, I thought to check the Citizen Patriot for Jackson restaurant reviews. I found just one result, that could hardly have counted as a review, but rather an announcement for a newly opened restaurant. This newly opened place just happened to be “authentic” Tex- Mex and Mexican cuisine.

I have tried Mexican food before, but I’m not so sure that it has been “authentic.” After seeing this newly opened restaurant, I figured I could give it a try. Part of their menu features “traditional Mexican plates,” none of which I have heard of before. I took this as a good sign. It being new combined with the unknown dishes seemed to fit the descriptions of the assignment.

I am rather nervous about the assignment though. Like we talked about in class, I am unsure that I have the authority to try a new food and either “love” or “bash” it. I feel that because I do not have a strong background in Mexican food, I have no room to judge it. I am worried that I will have trouble going out of my comfort zone when using my own money. I will have to fight the urge not to go with the universally safe taco or fajita. 

While the Cit Pat doesn’t seem to have restaurant reviews, I think it would be fun to write toward a Jackson audience. I’m sure that I will have to tone down my cruelty toward my hometown in writing to it’s people, but I believe I could also rather easily write in a relatable way. I am from here, for goodness sakes! 

Due to the area in which I believe the restaurant is in, I’m going to take a guess that it will not be all that busy. I don’t know that many Jacksonians travel down the road it is on looking for a meal. Maybe some “locals” will have heard about it though. It’s funny to think of such a small place having “local” spots, but we most certainly do. I am hopeful though that due to the newness of the place, that the owner will be there and will be happy to talk to me about his new project. 

My last concern is that I am going with Trevor. I am in need of new foods, while I’m almost certain he will opt for something easy. This is going to be infuriating when I’m deciding on what plate to make or break my experience. This assignment is bringing up some nerve-racking obstacles for me and it’s barely begun!

After searching for over an hour for something that didn’t resemble a dark seedy bar or a restaurant found on any exit across America, I hope that I will have found a new place of excitement or glory for our sad little town.

New Trains of Thought

Was anyone else bombarded with all kinds of information they were unaware of? Wow! What an informative introduction! I of course have been a tourist in more places that I guess I even realized throughout my lifetime, but I had no idea the kind of thought and study went toward this field.

The thought that you can be a tourist even in your own home is a new one for me. Though I know that you don’t necessarily need to leave the country to become a tourist, the thought of being one by simply flipping through a cookbook filled with unfamiliar foods is a new concept! I think it’s awesome though. While I was reading I wanted to get out of the library, head back to my dorm, put on some exotic music, sip a drink with a little umbrella in it and flip through a tropical cookbook. The thought that even doing something seemingly silly could somehow transport you and make you think in a bigger way about another culture is really cool to me.

I was also very interested in the fact that we sometimes make certain foods into a “tourist” attraction. Long used the examples of Maine’s lobster or the Georgia peach. These foods are not exclusive to these regions, but because they are easily accessible and many have gone, tried, and liked, they have become staples of those areas. The fact that we can create or destroy a culture’s food is rather powerful. Long paraphrases Donna Gabaccia’s book in saying “as food items were introduced to new consumers and became ‘American,’ they sometimes lost their original meaning as markers of ethnicity. However, those foods that maintained a tourist status also maintained their ethnic symbolism.” This passage makes me wonder how we decide what is “ethnic” and what is “American.” (I think we began to touch on this question in class Tuesday).

Also important to note was the explanation of “other.” We have talked extensively about the “other” in my Anthropology and Sociology class, and it was exciting for me to be able to put these concepts into a different perspective with this essay. As far as food goes,  I have held for some time that there is only “cultural” or “ethnic” foods. Here, we are delving into ideas of food representation far beyond just two categories. Foods may be “other” to us due to time-relation, religious/ethical reasons, regional differences, reasons of gender or age, or even socioeconomic reasons. It is amazing to me the variety which the word “other” holds. There are so many forms of experiencing new things, and there are so so many new things to experience.

(Im)perfect Pizza

My mom has never been all that domestic. She can clean like a madwoman, but when it comes to the kitchen, not quite her forte. Consequently, my dad has done nearly all of the cooking in my household. Particularly in my younger years, my Dad and I shared meals together all the time. My mom was in nursing school, with an hour commute back and forth from Jackson to Kalamazoo daily. Over the years our meals have evolved from the stages of his college life, to mine. One such meal that has stuck with me, was homemade pizza. By homemade I of course mean a pre-made crust and the addition of our favorite toppings. This was my favorite of all the meals we shared because it was one that I could help with. I am in no way, shape, or form a cook, but when it comes to pizza, I can sure spread a mean can of store-ready sauce!

When I couldn’t make it home to again share this cooking experience with my Dad, I thought hard about whom I could share my meal with. The decision was actually very easy though. Jamie. Jamie is one of my oldest friends at K, and ever so deserving of a gift from a friend she has given so much to. 

The very first time Jamie and I left campus together, I was having a rough day and she offered to take me shoe shopping. Just weeks into our friendship and she already knew how to cure my negativity, I should have known then. I of course found a pair of boots I would have died for in my fragile, impulsive state, but was without a check from work until the following day. Even after wasting a homework filled evening to help out a friend, money already spent on me in gas, she was still willing to lend me $100 to buy a pair of boots I didn’t need. The trust and faith she has in people amazes me still today. Always there in a bind and always willing to give more than she should, I was happy to choose her to cook with.

Jamie is remarkably like a mom away from mom, or in my case, a dad away from dad! Whom else could I depend on to have a pizza pan tucked away in their dorm? She knows all of the answers to the tedious questions that  I so often have asked of my father. She knows things like whether the milk really expires on the day it says on the carton, or how to cure a stomach ache. She is more domestic at nineteen than I believe I will be at forty. (She keeps spices where I house my coffee mugs, and pots and pans where my jeans rest.) Making a pizza was now an even better decision than before; she could help me make it - and God knows I needed help.

To begin our cooking adventure, Jamie and I took a trip to the friendly, neighborhood Meijer. All of the ingredients we needed were housed within three isles of one another, a quick and easy trip, or it should have been. After a grueling afternoon searching for the lovely and scatterbrained Allison, one of our roommates, in Kalamazoo’s Crossroads Mall, we were not looking forward to spending time in yet another crowded superstore where our phone-less friend could wander off again. 

Although we had just talked extensively in class about the many horrors of processed foods, at this venture in my non-working college life, I was unwilling to splurge for the “good stuff.” I also had in mind the pizza of my childhood, a time in which my parents were still relatively poor and just finishing their college educations. The combination of simply not knowing better and a budget resulted in processed pepperoni, cheese, and canned sauce and veggies. To top off the list of unhealthy ingredients, we often chose a ready-to-bake crust that required little to no preparation, save the addition of our favorite toppings. 

Lucky for me, pizza ingredients such as crust, sauce, and pepperoni are now conveniently shelved in one “pizza section.” The most challenging part of the entire Meijer process was finding canned mushrooms. Canned mushrooms you ask? Again with the small budget, my father would splurge on a few cans of the watery goods so that we could eat the leftovers from the bottom of the can with a fork. I had the intent of recreating this experience with Jamie, but found that I did have boundaries after reading “The Omnivore’s Dilemma.” Cooked, yes, uncooked, no.

The following day it was time to cook. In addition to the pizza, I served Ben & Jerry’s half baked ice cream as well as chips and salsa as appetizers. Taking cues from the three step instructions on the back of the crust packaging, we got to work.

First, I spread canola oil on the crust as an inexpensive substitute for olive oil. I then poured roughly half a jar of traditional Pizza Quick Ragu over the surface of the crust and spread it evenly with a spoon. Next came the spreading of the whole package of mozzarella cheese. Notice I’ve used the word “I” twice now, and it was at the cheese stage that Jamie finally protested that she had been recruited to help, not watch! So, we then went on to cover the entire pizza with cheese as well as slices of pepperoni. At this point our pizza was covered from crust to crust in multiple spirals of red - yum. Jamie, holding different views on canned mushrooms, opted out of placing them on her half. I however, covered the obnoxious amount of pepperoni with an obnoxious amount of mushrooms (consistency)! Last, but not least, we used half a jar of banana peppers each to top the pizza off.

Though the instructions on the ready-to-bake crust said our “perfect” pizza would be ready in 7 - 10 minutes, with the extreme weight we had added, the pizza took well over 30 minutes to cook. The juice from the banana peppers and canned mushrooms spilled over the sides as it baked, leaving a far from perfect, sufficiently black outer crust. Jamie had tried to prevent the blackness, but I insisted time and time again that it couldn’t possibly be ready, and this is why we are told from a young age to listen to Momma...

Our pizza was without a doubt trash worthy, but still we ate it. We laughed as with each bite another five mushrooms fell off onto the pan from which we ate. We giggled as we bit into the center where the cheese was only lukewarm. These far from subtle imperfections emulate our  friendship though. Jamie and I are raw and honest, but can laugh and sing and dance in the face of hardships as well. So our pizza burned or I think her goodwill sweater is awful. We went to our favorite breakfast spot the next day and she hated the pants I was wearing. This is how it goes, and let me tell you, these inconsistencies creates perfection. 

A Critique of a Critic

In the article, “In Indianapolis, the World Comes to Eat,” I really loved the way that the contrast between culturally sophisticated foods and simple chain restaurants and stores was used. The thought of many sophisticated cuisines being housed by a strip mall also caught my attention, and right or wrong, kept me amused. I think what is going on is fantastic though. It shows that we are becoming more widely accepting and adventurous. This is truly exciting news!

Mark Bittman’s piece about McDonald’s and their oatmeal strangely hit home for me. Surprisingly enough, several years ago now I did learn one thing about the food industries dirty secrets. For some time, I made it part of my Mickey D’s routine to order a fruit and yogurt parfait with my McChicken and medium fries, thinking I was making at least one healthy choice in my fattening meal. Wrong. I found out later that the parfait’s are about as fattening and artificial as the next thing on the menu. I could have been enjoying a hot fudge sunday for half the price and with the same or similar calorie count! I appreciate people pointing out these secrets. One of my favorite sources if the “Eat this, Not that” books... I guess I’m trying to say that I love a good scandal as well. Thanks Mark!

I could easily relate to Sifton’s “Maximal Flavor for Minimal Cash.” The entire time I was reading, I was thinking back to my mom, sister, and my recent trip to NYC. We are a middle class family who had to stay about an hour outside of the city to afford just three days, so hearing about how to experience my favorite city in the world (thus far) for less was exciting. The way in which Sifton was honest about pricing and had great suggestions for a budget was refreshing. While he threw in some humor, he made it real to a couple who had little to spend. 

The article also made me a bit sad in that I’ve never heard of any of the places he was talking about. I feel like I did when writing my memoir, naive and a small-town girl. I want to go and experience these fabulous places which he speaks of. While my mom put so much time into planning the trip and our meals, still we seem to have missed out on some of the best places to eat in New York! .. Guess I’ll just have to visit again soon :)

AH! I loved the line, “..persistent to heat that is closer to blankets than fire,”  in Sifton’s “The Cheat: A Winter’s Tail.” What a way he has with descriptions! All of his works were delightful to read due to this consistent theme of out of the ordinary description. While he was talking about the food transporting us, I felt as if he were transporting us. This is what I assume he meant to do, and a great critic would do. Honest and heartfelt, and again with the theme, it takes a good eater to know their stuff!