Lunch a la Lynch

It doesn’t take a whole lot to pique my interest when in comes to trying out new food, so when Dane played me a featurette off the Inland Empire DVD of David Lynch cooking up his own recipe for quinoa—I was all over it. The feature was less about the food than it was about showcasing Lynch’s preoccupation with an orderly process as well as his childlike fascination with such elementary principals as grains puffing up twice their size after boiling. While the pot was simmering, he took the moment to tell some wildly colorful tales regarding a European train ride, some street vendors peddling sugar water, his magical acquisition of two handfuls of silver coins and providing a woman with her first taste of Coca Cola. It was a fascinating little piece, black & white with a menacing score—and when it was over, I was dying to try out the dish I’d just seen Lynch devour with relish.

Some research was necessary, as I hadn’t the slightest clue what quinoa was, save Lynch’s vague explanation that it was some sort of grain that was considered to be a whole protein—and that it was delicious.

It turns out quinoa (Lynch pronounces it keen-wah) is a South American staple food grown in the Andes and it does contain a high amount of protein unlike wheat and rice—which makes it a better alternative for those pursuing a low carb diet. Lynch’s recipe also includes something he calls “Liquid amino acids.” I found out that this is a seasoning more commonly referred to as “liquid aminos,” and bears a similarity to soy sauce. So after a quick visit to Nature Mart (the neighborhood bohemian organic/health food market) my ingredients were assembled and ready to go.

Lynch was right. Quinoa is pretty damn good—a nutty flavored grain with a texture that’s a cross between cous cous and caviar. I think I’ve finally found the perfect rice substitute.

If you’d like to try the recipe yourself, you can find it here.

I’ve also just finished reading Cormac McCarthy’s The Crossing which, despite filling me with an immeasurable sense of bleak despair while contemplating the illusory lessons of history as well as humanity's inability to hear the voice of the divine (if there even exists a divine voice to hear) for our own vain and inconsequential desires—it’s also given me an itch to make some homemade tortillas.