A House Salad and The National Dish of Brazil

 A House Salad and The National Dish of Brazil

Still on the road. 

I will be in hotels many days each week for the remainder of the semester. I work as a professor of management at The College of Saint Rose in Albany, New York, however the college has announced that it will be closing following the completion of this Spring semester. 

It's shocking, I know, but sadly this is not my first time down this road. I was a professor at Southern Vermont College when it closed in 2019. I was a student at Bennington College in the early 1990's when a third of the faculty were unceremoniously terminated by the then President asserting financial issues. Odd how these people who place all the blame on the finances of these institutions are the self same people who are responsible for the finances, huh? I was a former student, employee, and resident of the town, of Marlboro College, and led the charge to save the school from closing in the Spring and Summer of 2020, only to watch the President and Chairman of the board, Kevin Quigley and Dick Saudek respectively, press the College through to one of the saddest endings of them all: the sale of the institution to a known racists and a soon to be discovered con artist. They simply did not care, and abandoned the trust that had bestowed in them, with no shame or regret to be seen. In al these instances I am reminded of Malcolm Gladwell said, "Sin, is the failure to bother to care." Indeed Malcolm. Indeed. 

I was also a professor at Miami University in the Spring of 2020 when the entire world shut down. It seems, to mimic Oppenheimer, that, "I have become death, destroyer of colleges and universities." 

All of this is to say that I've seen crying students, and I know it's such a hard thing to go through, so I try... in my fashion... to provide them with some modicum of comfort in what certainly feels like some of the darkest days of their lives. I have students from all over the world. I have one student who will now be transferring to his fourth college in as many years. I have an Italian student who told me he was sad because he could not get a good ragu here in the United States, and it made him homesick. So, what's a guy to do? I cooked up a batch of Bolognese and brought it in for the whole class to enjoy while we watched the group presentations. Food is my love language, and I do love these kids. They're good, and they don't deserve all of this. 

Sadly, my Italian student was not in class to enjoy the Bolognese as he was sick. A fellow student did collect a good batch for him and took it to him in his dorm room. 

This brings us to tonight's meal. Again a salad, but with an addendum of Feijoada, The National Dish of Brazil. Another student, upon hearing that I was willing to cook Bolognese for the Italian student mentioned that he was missing his favorite dish. I am, of course, more than willing to try my hand at this, but it is a different proposition than the one of Bolognese. See, I have worked as Chef of an Italian restaurant where I cranked out Bolognese and Lasagna Bolognese all day long. I can make a Bolo in my sleep, and I am proud of my recipe, but Feijoada? Well, that's a whole different ball of wax, and would require studying up to even start to know what it is. 

Well what it is is this, or at least sounds like this: heaven. This is a long cooked black bean stew that includes dried beef, pigs feet, pork hocks, three kinds of sausages, and a whole pile of love. It really does speak to my soul from the reading Ive done, and the videos I've watched, but I really needed to taste it. 

It should look like this: 

That is not what the good folks over at Texas de Brazil offered off for consumption on this fine evening. Rather, they sold me this: 

If you are thinking, "It doesn't even look hot," well, you're not wrong. It's cold. Not room temperature. Cold. As in out of the refrigerator cold. It has a few sparse pieces of meat in it, but you really have to search around for them and is a sad representation of what I have come to know Brazilians are wildly proud of. This, honestly, and I'm not being hyperbolic, would make a Brazilian cry. Try to imagine giving an Italian grandmother an overcooked bowl of Uncle Ben's and calling it Risotto. It's that level of a crime, and one for which certain people might suggest the transgressor be hauled before the International Court of Justice. I'm not saying I'm such a person, but I'm also not saying that either. 

Feijoada should be served with a side of farofa, which is a cooked cassava flour that brings a kind of crunch to the situation, and apparently is a unique taste that transforms the dish. In addition, there should be greens of some kind, rice, and wedges of fresh oranges to squeeze overtop of the whole thing. I was provided with a small take cup of farofa. It's just a sad story all around, but we are where we are, and I guess I've learned something about Feijoada, but as of now, I honestly can't tell you what. I guess, that Texas de Brazil isn't the place you go for this kind of thing? I mean, it's a place you go to gorge on an endless supply of meats, so I should have known better. 

I will forge ahead to learn how to make this dish properly, so I can bring some light to my student's life this semester. Really to my students' lives. I will be filling up the Dutch Oven yet again, and I will haul in a huge batch of deliciousness, but first I've got more studying to do to learn this dish. 

Oh yes, this is a blog about 365 Salads. So, how was Salad #3? It was perfectly serviceable. There is nothing to report. There's a picture above which should tell you all you need to know about the most ubiquitous salad known to the human race. I had it with Balsamic Vinaigrette. That also, was fine.