Food, Home and Style

Dip Me in Chocolate – On Not Loving Clara’s Cooking Show

Clara Cannucciari’s online cooking show “Depression Era Cooking with Clara” is an Internet sensation, drawing thousands of viewers across the country who follow recipes from this cute Italian granny’s hardscrabble girlhood. Watching the 93-year old Internet phenom whip up pasta, peas and potatoes in her sparse kitchen transports me to another place and time.   A cold water flat in the 1930s?

Not exactly.

Instead, I find myself fantasizing about the luscious Nigella Lawson dipping her beloved Bounty chocolate bars in the deep fryer in her posh London pad.  As I imagine the gooey mess caught somewhere between her plump lips and her manicured fingers, virtual serotonin pulses through my veins. “Nigella Bites” is but one example of the “food porn” so popular at the turn of this century.  I admit I’ve never eaten a deep fried chocolate bar. But I’ve lived vicariously through the voluptuous, glamorous Brit who indulged herself in sinful treats without regret or remorse.

I’ve tried to watch Clara. But after a couple episodes, I must click off the You Tube window. For all her homespun charm and sweetness, she makes my mouth water for decadent fare. My stomach is grumbling after one colorless concoction after another. Does this somehow make me debauched, or even wicked, in today’s troubled times? Why do I feel so guilty for not loving Clara?

Clara’s not a fascist about denying life’s simple pleasures. She makes a mean fig cookie in one episode. But then she warns that in a depression you can only make them once a year. Once a year?!? My stomach rebels. Surely, frugality doesn’t have to be so unsatisfying. Clara seems to represent a finger-wagging, “eat-your-veggies” approach to eating.

When the Recession gets me down, my imagination and taste buds crave something that can fill up my stomach and take my mind off my dwindling bank account. I long for lush colors, pungent fragrances, and tactile textures to rip across the screen.  When times are tough, I want to find pleasure and escape, just as Americans found refuge in glamorous movies to escape the dire reality of the Depression. Clara’s processed foods were a necessity in a bygone era, but today, eating frugally doesn’t have to mean canned peas. We have different choices and food platforms that allow us to feed both our stomachs and our senses. Local eating and artisanal movements focus on the value of eating foods that are not only yummy, but nutritious and made through practices that nourish our environment and communities.

Recently, the New York Times profiled the exploits of a group of creative young Brooklynites who are part of a new movement focused on an artisanal approach to cuisine. They appreciate traditional methods and flavors, producing hand-made pickles, cheeses and chocolates. I’m enjoying following these pioneers in a new culinary zeitgeist that appeals to my sensibilities.  A drizzle of truffle oil won’t do any more damage to my pocketbook than your garden-variety olive oil. And you’ll have to pry the bottle from my hands, because I won’t give up life’s sumptuous pleasures easily. If the day comes when I can only afford potatoes, I will savor the last drop of my decadent past.

Tags: artisanal cooking, chocolate, Great Depression, pleasure