On Alcohol and Cooking

Yesterday, while eating at an Irish café in The Woodlands, our server offered the house specialty for dessert—bread pudding. As full as I was from the shepherd’s pie (delicious!), I was tantalized by the idea of dessert.

I love bread pudding. It falls into the category of desserts that I would term “poor people dessert.” These are usually the types of eats that are created when someone says, “We have a lot of _________ that is about to spoil. How about we mix it with sugar and some other ingredients and see what happens?” Bread pudding, rice pudding, banana bread, and cinnamon tortillas are all in that category, and I love all of them.

Despite my interest, I knew that I needed to ask questions, especially about the sauce the chef would use. In response to my query, the server confirmed my suspicion: the sauce was cooked using Jameson Irish whiskey. I decided to pass. I had ice cream in the freezer anyway.

Later, I started to wonder why I am so dead set against eating things cooked with alcohol. I’ve heard that alcohol evaporates during the cooking process. If that’s the case, why should I care? Why not enjoy the bread pudding?!

It all boils down (yes, I said it) to the argument that alcohol evaporates during the cooking process. When someone first told me this, I accepted it as true. But over time, I’ve wondered how this could be. Why would anyone pay for an ingredient, which is often expensive, if it completely cooks out? I assume they mean the alcohol itself cooks out, but the residual flavors remain. If that is the case, why not use the unadulterated flavors directly?

However, last night I decided that my logic was ill-informed. I am neither cook nor chemist. I didn’t want to succumb to fallacy, so I decided to investigate. It only took ten minutes on Google to find out that no, I was not making an incorrect assumption. Here, from FoodNetwork.com, which used research from the U.S. Department of Agriculture:

The longer you cook, the more alcohol cooks out, but you have to cook food for about 3 hours to fully erase all traces of alcohol. A study from the U.S. Department of Agriculture’s Nutrient Data lab confirmed this and added that food baked or simmered in alcohol for 15 minutes still retains 40 percent of the alcohol. After an hour of cooking, 25 percent of the alcohol remains, and even after two and a half hours there’s still 5 percent of it. In fact, some cooking methods are less effective at removing alcohol than simply letting food stand out overnight uncovered.

Consider a Brandy Alexander pie made with 3 tablespoons of brandy and 1/4 cup of creme de cacao. According to data from the Washington Post, the pie retains 85 percent of the alcohol in these ingredients. Main dishes follow the same scenario. In scalloped oysters, for example, with 1/4 cup dry sherry poured over the works and then baked for 25 minutes, 45 percent of the alcohol remains.

There is obviously a lot of variation in the results, so I decided to look at a recipe for bread pudding with whiskey sauce. I found one, again on FoodNetwork.com, that shows whiskey is cooked in the sauce for a little less than ten minutes. By my estimates, 50–75% of the alcohol is still in the sauce.

This amazes me. I realize that, in cooking, we are dealing with relatively small amounts of alcohol. Furthermore, the recipe above serves 12 people. But to put this in perspective, a shot of whiskey is less than ¼ cup. That innocent seeming banana pudding recipe has four shots of whiskey in it, at least two of which are still there when the sauce is served. Yikes.

That settles it in my mind. Alcohol does not cook out. To pretend otherwise is a choice that I’m not going to make. But before I conclude, I’d like to touch on a point which is tangentially related, but is more pernicious and damaging.

Purchasing alcohol and supporting that entire industry is amoral. Consider that in the United States in 2016, over 10,000 people died in traffic deaths involving alcohol impairment (which equals more than 25% of traffic deaths overall), according to the CDC. Perhaps more startling, in terms of statistical correlation, is this: “At least half of sexual assaults among college students occur after the perpetrator, the victim, or both consume alcohol,” according to the National Institute of Justice.

These facts seem incontrovertible, yet somehow, they get ignored or explained away. I assume, in a conspiracy-wary sort of way, that the reasons are tied to money and/or corrupt legislators. Nonetheless, I’m talking about my personal decisions here. And personally, the consistently negative impact that consuming alcohol has on the human race is reason enough to pass up this small snack, no matter how tempting.

A (Short) Passage to India

The only thing Christie unequivocally liked: samosas.

“Yes, yes, come here. I have something very special for you,” the man called to us from his booth. He found willing customers: two shy white people in front of a row of Indian food booths, unsure of where to start our little afternoon jaunt at the Diwali festival. We were eager to be welcomed.

Before Saturday, my only experience with Diwali was from The Office, therefore my knowledge was sparse: don’t wear shoes, and don’t wear a Halloween costume. When Christie saw an event posting for a Diwali festival at a nearby Hindu temple, and that everyone was invited (read: white tourists welcome), we decided to pay a visit. After all, a benefit of living in one of the most ethnically diverse cities in the U.S. is being able to enjoy the many wonderful cultures around the world (without even going to the airport).

The temple itself was nicely situated slightly back from the road, and, just like everything in The Woodlands, surrounded by thick tree growth. Behind the temple was an empty parking lot, which today served as the grounds of the bazaar. Small booths arranged in rows contained everything from sarees to jewelry to fine china. We gave these a cursory glance as we beelined toward the object of our visit: the food.

“You will like this very much,” the man at the booth continued. He smiled warmly and described his dish. As I often do when I encounter people from outside the Southwest U.S., I stopped listening to the content of his sentences and focused only on the charming way he spoke: sharply rolled R’s, veed W’s, and vowels that seemed to flow together in my ears.

From what I did catch, confirmed by later research, he had Dahi Vada, chickpea flour balls the size of bonbons, soaked in a cool yogurt. “It will keep your stomach very cool,” he explained, again with his comforting smile. It didn’t sound like anything I would every think to make, so we bought a bowl, along with some Pani Poori, and headed over to a table to eat.

After this radical start, we decided to go for something a little more familiar: samosas, the empanada of the East. (One of these days, I want to write a book about the curious way that cultures from all corners of the earth make a different version of the empanada.) Not to be confused with mimosas (which is a joke I had to explain to Christie), samosas are a delicious, savory-filled pastry that I’ve enjoyed before.

It was at this moment that I had the awful realization that I was already getting full. I cursed the complete breakfast I’d had that morning, and we decided to make our way to the dessert tables. Sadly, I haven’t acquired as much love for Indian dessert as I have their entrees. Boondi ke ladoo and mysore pak didn’t quite do it for me.

But oh, that gulab jamun—khoya dough rolled into balls and fried, then drenched in a rose/cardamom syrup…that hit the spot. I guess it isn’t that surprising that the dessert that appealed the most to me is basically a donut hole in syrup. Hey, I may enjoy seeing other cultures but I’m still white.

We were full, happy, and getting a little sweaty in the humid heat. After a brief stop at the performance stage (we were too early, and only saw a few dances by 7-year old kids), we decided we were done.

Read the Scriptures Like LeBron

LeBron reading what I can only conclude is Paul’s epistle to the Galatians. 

If you ever want to watch LeBron James work on his jump shot for an hour, check out this video (which doubles as a long-form Powerade commercial). I clicked on the link expected to be blown away by his intensity, the difficulty of the workout, or his incredible athleticism. The truth is, it’s kind of a yawn. He’s not exactly playing medicine-ball volleyball like James Harrison.

Instead, LeBron is slowly and steadily working his way around the court, taking shots and working on basic form. He intersperses this with strength training using simple exercise bands. I don’t even think he breaks a sweat.

Obviously, he didn’t get where he is by doing only this. He lifts heavier weights, runs wind sprints, scrimmages against world-class players, and more. Compared to those activities, this little workout isn’t inspiring in and of itself. What is inspiring is the thought that LeBron James has done a version of this workout every day for decades, and even though he has reached the pinnacle of his career,  he continues to do so. It sure has paid off, too.

I started thinking about this after reading an interesting article by David Perell (about whom I know nothing) entitled “Learn Like an Athlete.” In it, Perell posits that athletes, musicians, and other performers train in a specific, goal-driven way that we could all emulate, even if we work in knowledge-driven careers. He even includes a handy spreadsheet link at the bottom for creating your own mental workout plan (you know I love me some spreadsheet action!).

In a separate article from Tyler Cowen, which led me to the original story, Cowen comments, “Recently, one of my favorite questions to bug people with has been ‘What is it you do to train that is comparable to a pianist practicing scales?’”

After reading both articles, I have been asking myself that question. Am I practicing my “scales?” How am I growing as a financial planner? Should I create a LeBron James-style workout plan? I haven’t come to an answer for any of that quite yet, but I’ll keep you posted if it turns into something.

This morning, while my mind was slightly wandering during church, I realized that although I don’t have a professional workout plan, daily scripture study is my spiritual version of practicing scales. And more than that, a great workout plan has already been provided to me! (What a relief—excel spreadsheet or no, I don’t look forward to creating an intense workout plan like Perell describes).

This insight comes at a good time for me, because I have been in a bit of a slump with the Bible and the Book of Mormon. I’m no expert, I know, but I have read them more times than any other books in the world, and I was feeling bored. But moving to Houston has opened me up to a reset in lots of areas of life, including this. In addition, I have benefited from the Come, Follow Me study plan, which has put me on a prescribed path and allows me to study the same material as my circles (family, ward). I heavily supplement that with the New Testament institute manual for further insights, which helps when I don’t understand what the heck Paul is talking about.

It isn’t glamorous. I’m not doing the equivalent of Dr. J dunking over Michael Cooper, to continue my basketball comparison. Instead, I’m doing the equivalent of the LeBron James basic workout, sans the cameras and million-dollar endorsement (though I’m open to sponsors—email me).

I hope to keep doing this for a long time, because, unlike professional sports, there is no retirement on the horizon. The famous Catalan cellist and composer Pablo Casals, when asked once why he continued to practice his cello three hours a day, replied, “I’m beginning to notice some improvement…I notice myself getting better at this.” He was 93 years old.