Local Cuisine

 

Tony Luke's

Every culture has a cuisine.  In America, we pride ourselves on the melting pot ideal.  We can have Italian food one night, Chinese the next, Mexican on Wednesday, followed by Thai, or Korean BBQ, Cuban or Indian, or even go American with a burger.  But I think many of us know that these foods are less than authentic.  The reasons for their inauthenticity are complex and many.  But overall, proximity is the biggest liability.  The further you are from the origin of the food’s originating culture, the less likely you are to be able to reproduce the authenticity of the food.  Often, local ingredients play a large part in the quality and flavor.  You may be able to procure ingredients from around the world, but their freshness and handling cannot be marginalized.  I can find most ingredients that I could ever imagine a use for at a specialty food store. In Anchorage, we have Apple Market on Bragaw, New Sagaya, or the handful of Asian markets on Fireweed, or the South Pacific market on Mt. View Drive, or even the Taco Loco store on International Airport Road. But these stores don’t necessarily stock exclusively fresh ingredients.  Certainly, on of the perks of living in a climate like California’s is the availability of fresh fruits and vegetables.  Certainly, if you’ve had a local avocado or freshly squeezed olive oil you know the value of fresh, local ingredients.  That isn’t to say that you can’t still find a good peach in Alaska, but you have to look; they aren’t consistent; and chances are you are going to have to pay more than the residents of Georgia.  

 

The cuisine of Alaskan is often thought of as seafood.  Certainly, Alaskans scoff at the thought of Atlantic salmon. We run Salmon.  I wouldn’t bother eating salmon in Seattle, let alone anywhere on the East Coast.  Halibut is also thought of as an Alaskan delicacy.  Yet, most Alaskans are unfamiliar with flounder.  They may be cousin species of flat-headed bottom feeders, but for my money flounder’s got a much more vibrant flavor…Atlantic flounder at least.  I’m certain that if flounder showed up on a few Alaskan restaurants’ menu, it would go untouched. 

This is interesting because of the pride with which cultures associate with their foods.  Alaskans eagerly eat horrifying versions of the cheese steak, known as the Philly.  Their impression seems to be that they are getting a taste of another culture’s specialty.  But they certainly are not.  The Philly, which is sold under that name in most of the United States, is a far cry from the Cheese Steak of Philadelphia.  First of all, the roll is of such a critical importance in Philadelphia and elsewhere it is nearly ignored.  Such a Laissez-faire attitude is taken with bread in areas east of the Appalachian Mountains, that I would say that it is impossible to get a sandwich anywhere outside of this region.  Aside from the bread, outsiders seemed to have lost the recipe for the cheese steak, and improvised.  In all of my time on the East coast, I have never seen a cheese steak with green peppers.  It is simply not done. I think it has something to do with the awful taste and texture of the green pepper.  It has an astringent taste, chemical and domineering.  To quote Andrew Knowlton, Iron Chef judge, food writer and restaurant critic: “Green bell peppers. I love every type of pepper with the exception of this one; it brings nothing to the party save for a funky, overbearing, sometimes bitter flavor. Want to ruin a dish for me? Throw in some raw green bell pepper.”  The fried onion (sautéed, not deep-fried onion ring or straw) is optional, always.  As far as the cheese is concerned, that is also a choice.  The famed Pat’s and Geno’s of South Philly are know not only for their excellent sandwiches, but also the way they are ordered.  At Pat’s you approach the ordering window with your cash (only) in hand.  You say what you want and how you want it in a short hand that includes all ingredients in a few words.  For instance, “1 whiz steak wit.” The cashier takes the few dollars and you move out of the way so they can get to the rest of the line. And yes, there is always a line.  My cheese steak would be assembled and handed to me on wax paper in a matter of seconds, a cheese steak sandwich with cheese whiz and fried onions (wit, as opposed to wit out).  But as I mentioned you can choose your cheese, American, provolone or whiz are your best and generally only choices.  No Gouda, Munster, Fontana, havarti, bleu, or Gorgonzola.  Not because these cheeses aren’t good, but Philadelphians understand the context of their food within its culture.  Working class Italians, Irish, Black, Puerto Rican, and Polish aren’t interested in having haute cuisine infiltrate their five-dollar cheese steak. 

Similarly, in Alaska we become offended when people suggest ways to prepare salmon or halibut.  We hold to claim to knowing the best ways to eat these local foods.  Salmon, needs a bit of sweetness, salt and lots of citrus.  Halibut is best breaded, or battered and deep-fried with a tangy tartar sauce.  It simply is, and I am an authority because I am Alaskan.