Get down and dirty

It’s the tiniest of cookbooks, with a binding that looks like it’s not quite finished, and a comical portrait of its author on the back cover.

Just leafing through the contents of Julie van Rosendaal’s Dirty Food, a selfpublished offering by one of Canada’s best and most inspiring food writers, is pure relief. This is not haute cuisine. But it’s also not the ubiquitous tribute to comfort food dominating the culinary landscape in the time of COVID-19.

Like all the best cookbooks, Dirty Food is a mirror of its author — what she believes in, and what she cares about. You should buy the book to get the full story from the Calgary writer herself (she tells it beautifully in the introduction). But here’s a hint: the book is a push-back against “clean eating,” a concept that can promote food-shaming.

Dirty Food promotes the messy, the sticky, the food that makes crumbs.

Because I am a writer and see meaning everywhere, I have taken Julie’s book to my heart, especially her tribute to elevenses — the delicious morning snack that falls perfectly between virtue and desire. Yes, there’s a good chance that a nibble at 11 a.m. will ruin your lunch, and you really should just wait. But giving into gratification, and so early in the day, is just what people like me need to go on. Here I will digress briefly to tell you that Winnie the Pooh has informed many of my life choices, particularly his quote about elevenses. “Nearly 11 o’clock,” said Pooh happily. “You’re just in time for a little smackerel of something…”)

What I love about writers, and writing, is this: when they share of themselves, they provide us a window into our own souls. When I read, and cook from, Dirty Food with such joy and relief, I ask myself why? Why does this feel so good?

I think it’s because I am, at the same time, person who needs to follow the rules to feel safe, and a cranky- pants rebel.

During a time of pandemic, when every single breath must follow the rules (God forbid we speak moistly), the urge to do something naughty, careless, untidy is almost overpowering.

Today, I feel like roaring into the river valley to puff mightily as I charge up and down the steps (I long for a $1,000 ticket so I can lie down in front of a tank to challenge it).

But perhaps it is more sensible to turn to Dirty Food.

Last week, I made smothered chicken (it has whipping cream in it, which is all you need to know).

You might enjoy dirty rice. The dish features leftover rice and celery (so humble in its pallor), bits of sausage and a smattering of spices to create a fast and satisfying meal. Usually, I make myself eat a spinach salad when serving something that’s not particularly vegetable-forward (although this recipe has a pepper in it).

But last night, we just ate a heaping bowlful of the stuff, completely unsupported by a more rigorous food group.

Man, it was good.