If you spend any time on social media, you’re likely to come across a personality quiz. These activities are commonly shared among friends with the tease that your answers will reveal something fun about yourself. I am a sucker for them. I always enter with high expectations only to receive the most mundane outcome. Here a just a few of my results. If you were a Barbie, which one would you be? Classic. A color? White. A car? Volvo. A pet? Golden Retriever. An ice cream? You guessed it... vanilla. It seems that my answers are as exciting as a piece of stale bread. As a community, we are experiencing vanilla fatigue, and I’m suffering from the vanilla complex.
In my opinion, vanilla gets a bad rap. One of the most complex spices, its delicate, sweet-yet-spicy flavor lends itself to rummy notes. Yet, calling something “vanilla” in 2021 is a pointed insult. Vanilla, as an ingredient, is luxurious, imported, and multi-layered in flavor, but it currently has a PR issue. Vanilla has also long had a racial dimension in slang, and by the 1940s, vanilla was used to describe a white person, especially a white woman, perhaps not unlike Beyoncé’s ‘Becky with the good hair.’” Hot vanilla. Sweet vanilla woman. Break me off a piece of that vanilla girl! Nope. Nobody says that.
As a noun, vanilla refers to our most fragrant and complex flavor, the one we use to improve everything from cheesecake to candles. But as an adjective, it is a pejorative, employed to describe anything common, generic, or boring. We say “plain vanilla” to describe everything from food to sex. Even when Prince Charles married his much-maligned sweetheart, a British newspaper branded her “Plain Vanilla Camilla.” Somehow, “vanilla” has become shorthand for bland. Vanilla (delightfully delicious as it is) is largely considered to be a ho-hum, all-too-common flavor to ever be considered a compliment. Vanilla is classic, clean, simple, and pure at best ... and at its worst? Dull. Plain. Prosaic. By definition, it isn’t cool—just ask any hipster.
Vanilla is essentially a supporting actor. It is a sociable flavor, and at its best when bringing out the best in other distinct ingredients, softening their acidity, drawing out their intensity, helping them to cohere. This is why baked goods made without vanilla lack depth and dimension, like music without a bass line. It also explains why we associate vanilla with all things plain. Because vanilla rarely owns the spotlight, we’ve come to think of it as the wallflower of flavors, retiring and easily overlooked.
Of course, like many wallflowers, vanilla has a lot going for it. It’s at once simple but sophisticated, familiar yet mysterious—and not at all bland. Ironically, vanilla, as a plant, is extremely hard and fussy to grow. In fact, it takes around three years for a vanilla orchid to start producing beans, and in order for that flower to produce fruit, a bee or a hummingbird has to pollinate it first. Otherwise, it won’t even bother to sprout a bean. Supporting actor? More like a Diva! Vanilla is beyond fascinating as a subject, as a word, and as a flavor, and sometimes a bowl of vanilla ice cream on a hot day is all you need to be happy. Vanilla is, to be sure, anything but boring. It’s one of the most complex things the entire world enjoys.
This morning I fell victim to another quiz deciding what kind of pizza I would be. My results? Cheese. Well, I simply had to draw the line. You can insult my style. You can insult my personality. But don’t ever, ever insult my tastebuds. No one puts those babies in a corner. I’m no wallflower when it comes to food. I'm Queen Vanilla, baby, and I've got all the white stuff.
Caramelized Onion, Pear & Gorgonzola White Pizza with Arugula
INGREDIENTS
- 1 batch dough, room temperature
- 4 tablespoons olive oil, divided
- 1 large yellow onion, thinly sliced
- 2 pears, thinly sliced
- 8 oz. shredded mozzarella
- 2 garlic cloves minced
- 5 oz gorgonzola, divided
- 1/4 cup chopped walnuts
- 3 cups arugula
- Ranch dressing (my recipe here)
INSTRUCTIONS
- Preheat the oven to 450 F. Let pizza stone heat in the oven prior to cooking.
- In a small pan over medium heat, add 1 tablespoon olive oil and the thinly sliced onion. Sauté for 10 minutes until golden brown and fragrant. Remove from the pan and set aside.
- Place the pan back over the heat and add another tablespoon of olive oil and the sliced pear. Cook for 4-5 minutes until the pear is softened. Be careful not to break up the pear slices when you stir.
- Roll the pizza dough out on a floured surface. Remove pan from oven and top with dough.
- Drizzle with 1 tablespoon of olive oil and spread out the minced garlic pieces across the dough, leaving a 1/2 inch around the perimeter for a crust.
- Layer on the caramelized onions, then sprinkle on the mozzarella and 4 ounces of the gorgonzola. Spread out the cooked pear slices and place the pizza in the oven for 15 minutes to bake. Pizza is done when the underneath is firm and golden, and the cheese is golden brown.
- In a medium bowl, combine the arugula, dressing (just enough to slightly goat), and remaining 1 ounce of gorgonzola.
- Remove the pizza from the oven once fully cooked. Sprinkle on the toasted walnuts, then top the pizza with the dressed arugula.
