“Fear Factor: Aram Chef”

 The Finale

            Drum roll. After three weeks of grueling training and intense strategizing, Aram Chef is ready to conquer his final challenge: the spinach and tofu omelet. With only his pride and preconditioned taste buds to lose, Aram Chef must prove to the world that these past three weeks of spursing small amounts of disliked foods was worth the effort. To him, the real work was in the preparation.  The finale would have meant nothing without the critical build-up. And the conclusion? Well there wouldn’t even be one without first recognizing the preparation that led to the final challenge.  Now, in previous blog entries, I’d already covered most of the work that was involved in the training, but a quick recap would be helpful to highlight the accomplishments along the way to the finish line.

The Preparation (Previously on “Fear Factor: Aram Chef”)

Phase 1: During Chef’s first week, it was all about research. He used research done by Dana Small and the personal experiences of Jeffrey Steingarten to formulate the theory that ‘mere exposure’ would be his secret weapon in his preparation of the secret ingredients.

Phase 2:  The training sessions in preparation for the big challenge. This is where Chef Aram took his research and applied it. Initially, it required baby steps. For two weeks, he sprinkled microscopic bits of tofu and spinach into his favorite dishes gradually increasing the size of the pieces and the variety of dishes. Whether it be a salad from Benson, or a homemade pasta that the Chef has made himself, this preparation period was critical if I had any intention at all of succeeding at my goal.  At first, it was uneventfully easy. He started with a single leaf of baby spinach from the salad bar in Benson to symbolize the start to his journey towards ‘victory.” Albeit, it was buried under dressing and lettuce, and would probably require an excavation team to ever find it, but nonetheless, it was an entire leaf more than Aram Chef would have ever attempted on any previous day.  Like the Princess who felt the pea under a stack of mattresses, Aram Chef did taste a hint of the culprit, but he overcame the anxiety of the experience, and surprisingly, did not gag or try to wash it down with a milkshake. Exposure therapy motivated him to involve spinach and eventually, tofu, at every meal time. Okay, maybe more accurately, every other day. To his delight, he discovered that even when he recognized the taste of spinach or tofu, his dislike for either waned.

 The Delivery:
This is where the rubber hits the road. Despite the two weeks of preparation, this came pretty sudden. It all started with a simple and harmless (or so it was thought) phone conversation with the Chef’s brother. He asked Aram Chef about school and he updated him with the English project. I told him Aram was going to try cooked spinach (a first for me) the next day at the Benson cafeteria. See, at that point in time the Chef hadn't visited home in a good three weeks due to midterms and other obligations (sleeping in). He was already starting to his family. Usually coming home on Sunday (seafood night!), Chef’s brother had a different idea based on his newly learned information. Big Brother decided it would be a good idea to for unsuspecting Aram Chef to come home early on Saturday so they could prepare brunch together.  Contributing to the shock factor about this proposition was not that Big Brother proposed making a spinach omelet, but that he wanted to make breakfast. The last cooking repertoire that came to mind was oven-baked fish tacos and french fries. Naturally, it only took 5 minutes into the process of making the omelet before Mama Chef came to the rescue.

The Conclusion:

“Nobody’s perfect.” After training his taste buds to the taste of raw spinach and tofu, one might think he would be able to handle an omelet with cooked spinach. Sadly enough, this was not the case. With great angst and humiliation, it was time to man up and confess failure. The green of the spinach lay in stark contrast to the yellow of the omelet, and it just was not a good scene. Chef Aram lost “Fear Factor: Aram Chef”. His prize? The dubious honor of getting to watch his brother smirk. But not for long. All joking aside, leave it to a tight-knit family to turn this all into a learning experience. In fact, in this situation, Chef Aram’s family has actually been pretty supportive since the start of this journey. In solidarity, Big Brother ordered a vegetarian pizza without taking off all of the mushrooms, his own vice. He admitted that it was rather stressful to be open to trying his own least favorite topping.

 In case you may have also noticed that no mention was made of that third ‘special ingredient’: brussels sprouts, it was not simply overlooked. Up until this point, the process had been mentally exhausting and quite stressful, but that does not mean Chef Aram is not up to the challenge. This particular food item could be a fail if the right recipe is not followed, but thanks to the offer of a more experienced chef (Mom), the brussels sprout challenge will take place over the long weekend.

Somehow, the bravery involved in this particular final feat is fitting for Memorial Day weekend.  It may compensate somewhat for the omelet fail. And so, the final surprise: while this was intended to be Aram Chef’s last blog entry, there will be a follow-up write-up that will give a review of the brussels sprouts experience. With a tip of the chef’s hat to Steingarten perhaps the aversion to this particular vegetable can be overcome with the assistance of an experienced and accomplished chef (Thanks, Mom!), and it may quite be possible to find redemption after the finale fail.  Stay tuned. 

 “No Soup For Me!”

            “Trust me, Aram; it will make your stomach feel better.” With an unsettling amount of anxiety, I plunged my spoon into the brown, frothy liquid which bore little resemblance any soup I had ever seen. My brother and sister had already succumbed to the pressure of our parents who promised them the strength of Samson if they would only trust them. “Trust.” There was that word, again. It was how a used car salesmen sold junky jalopies. The chatter among villagers and tourists subsided. With many pairs of encouraging eyes focused on me, my expression turned from anxious to horrified-but-I’m-trying-to-mask-it. Including the time my sister beat me in ping-pong in front of all my friends, it was one of the most embarrassing moments of my life.

I raised the spoon and asked for more crushed garlic to hide the contents that smelled suspiciously of manure. The taste was shocking. Never had I ever  tried anything so revolting that it made me gag; except maybe for spinach when I was six. I heard cheers. My dad’s friend slapped me on the back and handed me a shot glass of vodka as a chaser. It was a festive initiation into the club. That day, on snow-peaked mountain in an ancient Biblical village, I became a man. By eating soup that was basically a hideous concoction of sheep head and hooves, boiled for days on end, I continued an ancient tradition and was hence empowered to fight bears and lions with my bare hands.

I had partaken in one of the richest cultural experiences of my life. “Khash,”  like Christianity, has been woven into Armenian history and culture. As we sat around that rustic table, I accepted a second shot of vodka and mused with the wisdom of Solomon that it was no mere coincidence that the Christian Armenians are loyal to both “khach” (the Armenian word for “cross”) and “khash.” Both symbolized our very existence. I politely  turned away the third glass. Interestingly, I noticed my stomach ache had gone away, but I secretly wondered if it might have been the shots.

Since then, I have done more research. The roots of khash are so deeply entwined into Armenian culture that it can even be found in one of many world famous medical texts from Mkhitar Heratsi. In his manuscript The Relief of Fevers, he describes khash as “a dish that cures diseases” (Heraci 22). I recalled the restaurant owner saying how they were also open for breakfast, since khash is also a cure for hangovers. I found it amusing that vodka was used a cure for the aftertaste of the food, itself.

I learned that the preparation of this dish spans several days, as the sheep parts are slowly simmered. Guests are to bring a hearty appetite and a bottle of vodka. After an entertaining series of poetic toasts, the soup is brought out in a large cauldron and laughter fills the room as bread and garlic is passed around the table. If food is only as pleasant as the people who share it with you, then I could see how khash is a cherished tradition.

            This experience has only reinforced the theory that food is a social phenomenon. Its symbolism is just as nourishing as the vitamins within. As inspiration, I can reference Jeffrey Steingarten’s amazingly awesome book, “The Man Who Ate Everything”.  With humility, I confess that it was tempting to not share his research, because it does somewhat blow my project out of the water. In fairness, however, I conceded that Steingarten has spent more time studying food  than the years I’ve spent eating it. Adding credibility to his resume, Steingarten was a lawyer until the age of 47. Since then, he has become one of the leading food writers in the United States. ‘He has been a food critic at Vogue magazine since 1989 where his monthly columns have earned him a National Magazine Award. ‘His 1997 book, “The Man Who Ate Everything”,  earned him an award for literary food writing from the International Association of Culinary Professionals  and the British Guild of Food Writers’(Jeffrey Steingarten of Vogue Magazine - Biography). It has been translated into eight different languages since its release, and has earned him worldwide fame, resulting in regular appearances on the Food Network as a judge and commentator.

 For me, the first chapter alone is rich material. In it, Steingarten writes about his past and his thoughts leading up to his decision to try to cure himself of his aversions to certain foods. He had my immediate attention at that point. He gives a good idea of who he is and who he was before evolving into a foodie. He opens his first chapter recollecting an experience that had him having to try a food that was “unsuited to enter a human mouth”(Steingarten).  Yeah, but had he ever tried khash?  Like me, he claimed to have “suffered from a set of powerful, arbitrary, and debilitating attractions and aversions at mealtime. I feared that I could be no more objective than an art critic who detests the color yellow or suffers from red-green color blindness.” In the rest of the first chapter, he gives us a “Six-Step Program to liberate my palate and soul.” Since Steingarten had proven success with his experiment, I decided to compare it with my run through Fear Factor: Aram Chef.

            Steingarten first gives us three fairly long lists of food, ranging from “Foods I wouldn’t touch even if I were starving on a desert island” to “Foods I might eat if I were starving on a desert island but only if the refrigerator were filled with nothing but chutney, sea urchins, and falafel.” While I chose three ingredients, Steingarten talks about 9 different kinds of foods that he dislikes. However, he is only able to explain how his aversions came about for a few of the dishes.   In his next step. he explores food aversions and how they don’t stem from a biological perspective as genes don’t dictate what foods we will like or dislike (other than a propetuency towards sugars and a mild dislike towards bitterness). According to Steingarten, our food preferences are learned. For example, newborns are not repelled even by the sight and smell of putrefied meat crawling with maggots. Steingarten continues to deliver logically and scientifically sound arguments as to why we develop food aversions in the first place. The strongest food phobias usually rooting from an upset stomach “will result in a lasting irrational, lifelong sense of disgust.”

What I enjoy most of Steingarten’s manuscript is the logic in addressing why it’s important for us to not be picky eaters. He tells us that we have obligations as omnivores. Steingarten points out that  God instructed us in the book of Genesis after Noah’s flood to eat everything under the son, and that by not eating from the “bounties of nature, we become failed omnivores” or as he gently puts it,  “godless heathens.”  We are given a vast variety of flavor and foods, yet most of us stick to eating the same thing over and over again, mostly because we want a sure thing, so we only eat what we know. It’s like going to Starbucks, because you know you will always get the same mediocre cup of burnt coffee. Take Usain Bolt, the fastest man that our world has ever known. He ate at least 100 chicken McNuggets a day for 10 days in Beijing (in case you were wondering, that’s 4700 calories and 9000 milligrams of sodium per day). When asked why, Bolt responds that “he found Chinese food odd, so he bounded over to the nearest McDonald’s and ordered his favorite food” (Zennie). We eat the foods we like, and for a world-class sprinter like Bolt, all that’s important before a competition is feeling comfortable and at  home. But what about the rest of us? Steingarten does a great job of exposing the effects of an America where “fear and suspicion of food have become the norm.” He argues that irrational food phobias have kept people from sharing food with one another, promoting ignorance and arrogance in the process. While I find this claim powerful and somewhat true, Steingarten does not provide any evidence to support it.

            Steingarten concludes  his first chapter by sharing the results of his “mere-exposure”’ test. He points out that  “mere-exposure” doesn’t seem to be the perfect cure for many of his “irrational food phobias.”  In most cases, the perfect remedy seems to be the perfect meal. As someone who detests anchovies (that’s a whole ‘nother story), I found myself drooling at his description at how they were prepared. This guy travels all around the world and has the opportunity to try dishes of food he thought he disliked….until they were prepared by the greatest chefs of the world and convinced him otherwise. Who would not  enjoy anchovies, if they are prepared in Northern Italy with a sauce of “garlic, butter, olive oil… served piping hot over sweet red and yellow  peppers as an antipasto in Piedmonte.” Of the nine food groups he hopes to conquer, the only one he seems to have defeated using mere-exposure is Kimchi, which he started to enjoy after sampling many different varieties.

 Unlike Steingarten, I haven’t had the same glamourous help in overcoming my food aversions. For me, overcoming spinach has meant adding one or two more leaves at my school cafeteria every time I make a salad. I do think I’m at 60% towards my efforts to eat a salad made entirely of spinach. If I had a chef from northern Italy make it with some of the world’s best pasta, I have a feeling my goal would be more easily attained. I do appreciate and respect Steingarten’s  attempt towards overcoming his food aversions, but I feel as if he could have fulfilled his aversions in a more common-folk kind of a way. While I generally enjoyed this piece, what I disliked was his opinion  on those who currently have irrational food phobias. He spends all this time writing about his own circumstances regarding his food phobias and how he got over them but seems to be a complete jerk in real life when he comes across someone who has them. He does somewhat acknowledge this by naming his final step “relearning humility,”  but I’m sure if I met him in real life I would  think he was extremely pretentious. “When seated next to a finicky eater, I would often amuse myself by going straight for the jugular…Sometimes I launched a direct assault by asking how long she had had her terror of bread...And then I would sit back and complacently listen to her neurotic jumble of excuses and explanations.”

            While I suspect that Steinarten’s personality is not very pleasant,  I do like his writing style and how he structured his first chapter. I plan to follow suit by making my final post about the experiment itself and the results (Will Aram Chef be victorious?!). I don’t think I will  ever be able to get over the taste of khash, but I definitely have found that by simply eating some foods, they do start to taste better over time. As a sneak peak to next week’s episode, I can tell you that eating tofu is uneventful. No longer, will I avoid it, especially if it is immersed in a bowl of savory miso soup.

            Giving him due credit, Steingarten has taught me to appreciate: food and experiences in life.

We are given so many opportunities in this life to discover and experience new things, yet most of us stick to the same dishes and ingredients.  Even though I hated the food, that meal while atop Aragatz Mountain will always be one of my favorite experiences.  It represents cultural identity, friendship, and shared successes. I could not hide my dislike for the dish, but I know that the locals appreciated my heartfelt desire to fit in. They laughed when I couldn’t hide my reaction, but they didn’t judge. Looking back, there is no way I would have ever eaten a meal of boiled sheep feet, unless I happened to be surrounded by warm, encouraging, and lively people who cheered for me. Thanks to them, I experienced khash and the culture surrounding it.

Works Cited

 Heratsi, Mkhitar. The Relief of Fevers. N.p.: n.p., n.d. TITUS. Web. <http://titus.fkidg1.uni-frankfurt.de/texte/etcs/arm/heraci/herac.htm>.

"Jeffrey Steingarten of Vogue Magazine - Biography" StarChefs.com. N.p., n.d. Web. 14 May 2014.       

Steingarten, Jeffrey. The Man Who Ate Everything. New York: Knopf, 1996. N. pag. Nytimes.com. Knopf. Web. 13 May 2014.

Zennie, Michael. "Usain Bolt Reveals the Secret of His McSuccess: Fastest Man Alive Ate 100 Chicken McNuggets A DAY at Beijing Olympics." Mail Online. Associated Newspapers, 04 Nov. 2013. Web. 14 May 2014.