Tomatoes and Slavery

Way back in my youth I worked in New York for a company that repackaged magazine material into cookbooks — our biggest client was Gourmet Magazine. So I’ve watched with great interest as Ruth Reichel has taken that hoary old magazine, run by women from the suburbs who at least in the late ’80 were still known to come to work in plaid skirts and knee socks (knee socks! I remember my shock that grown women would go out dressed like old girls — oh, and in blouses with those big floppy bows that women wore in the ’80s in lieu of men’s ties. Sigh), at any rate, I’ve been thrilled to see the magazine move into the modern world.

The past year or two they’ve even started added a regular feature on food politics. This month’s article is particularly worth reading: Politics of the Plate: Florida’s Slave Trade, Tomatoes, Migrant Workers: Food Politics : gourmet.com.

The article is truly appalling — but having grown up around migrant workers in the landscape and horse business, I know how easy it is for such a vulnerable population to be taken advantage of — go take a look. It’s a really interesting article.

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School Lunch, Opportunity for Change?

There’s a vigorous and healthy debate going on in the blogosphere about school lunch. Congress is gearing up to revise the Child Nutrition and WIC act, which includes the school lunch program, and the forces of Hope and Change have ideas. (Click through to the actual essays linked, my summaries necessarily oversimplify.)

Alice Waters started the debate on the NY Times Op-Ed page, advocating that we double the lunch subsidy from $2.17 to $5.00. She also, no surprise, wants a program that works with farmers to get organic local produce into schools, and advocates rebuilding school kitchens.

This suggestion, particularly the price tag, has set off something of a storm. There’s a new-ish blog called the Internet Food Association, which seems to be a bunch of policy wonks who are also interested in food, and who are cross-pollinating the argument by bringing economics and policy experience into the debate. Tom Lee takes on Alice’s argument, and in particular, her price point, here in a piece entitled The Pretentious is the Enemy of the Good. Ezra Klein, writing on the same blog, has a slightly different take, one that I think includes my favorite quote:

Cooking is more useful than dodgeball proficiency — particularly as you get older. But schools have dodgeball courts. I cook more often than I play the clarinet. But my school had a music room. We have to decide whether it’s worth the expenditure, but integrating kitchens into schools is not crazy on its face.

Tom Philpott, over at Grist, does a good summation of the argument. He’s curious, as am I, about why the mere suggestion that we spend five bucks on lunch for kids gets people so riled up. And it’s Philpott who keeps floating my favorite suggestion — a program for endebted cooking school grads based on Teach for America — trade the enthusiasm and skill of newly trained chefs for some debt relief and the opportunity to demonstrate that they can run a good kitchen on a budget.

What’s my take? I live in a small town. We have two elementary schools (one that shares a building with the middle school) and a high school. We have a population of people who could easily work in school lunchrooms, competantly making lunch every day. We still have a pretty low unemployment rate, but a lot of people are in extremely low-wage jobs and would be happy to trade up for a nice safe school district job, especially if we could find a way to provide insurance. I also live in an area where there is an easy supply of local meat (including game in the fall) and where agricultural education is already part of the curriculum. It would not be a big stretch to get kids throughout our entire district involved in the production end of the food system, many of them already are (or have extended family who are ranchers).

If we had real kitchens in schools again, and gardens, and some vibrant connection to the ranching community in which we live, we could build a curriculum around food that would teach all sorts of useful skills. Cooking for one, which as anyone who has read this blog for more than five minutes realizes is a big cause for me. Cooking with kids is a proven way to get them to expand their food preferences, and you learn a lot of school skills when you cook. Math and measurement and ratios and temperatures –what is cooking but one big science experiment? Get kids in the kitchen, let them help figure out budgets and decide what to cook for their schoolmates. Have them write recipes and menus and “advertise” their lunch day in the school paper. Get high school kids in the kitchen as interns — we’re not a district where it’s assumed everyone is going to college — give a kid a chance to learn a useful skill.

I don’t know, I don’t see any downside except that this means being more involved. I cannot see any upside to feeding our kids the crap we’re currently feeding them. And frankly, if we’re going to stimulate some areas of the economy, why not stimulate farmers and cooks and teachers and people who want to be passionately involved rather than stimulating the big food processors and delivery companies who think that battered chicken shards formed in patties are an actual food product?

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Food Blogs and Home Cooking

To wrap up home-cooking-week, I thought I’d give you all a little summary of the blogs I read most often. These are the ones that inspire my own home cooking, give me interesting ideas, send me off on projects, or that I find inspirational.

The Slow Cook — I love this site — although I’m jealous of his long growing season in DC, I always learn something here. Especially about pickling. This was the site that inspired me to make sauerkraut. He’s got a particularly good piece at the top of the blog right now, Food Lessons for Hard Times.

Chocolate and Zucchini: not a blog about hard times at all, but I like Clothilde’s writing style and her recipes. She brings her French sensibility to home cooking, but she’s never fussy or overwrought. I make her French Yogurt cake all the time — it’s become my go-to hostess gift.

Bitten: Mark Bittman’s NY Times blog — this is a daily read for me. There’s a lot of good advice about home cooking here — good clean delicious food that is neither going to break your bank nor keep you slaving away all evening. Also, he’s just published Food Matters: A Guide to Conscious Eating with More Than 75 Recipes a book that advocates changing the way we eat, outlining a lower-meat diet consisting of more whole grains, fruits and vegetables for our own health and the health of our planet.

Ruhlman: Michael Ruhlman’s blog is another blog I check daily — his book The Elements of Cooking: Translating the Chef’s Craft for Every Kitchenis a must-read for anyone interested in getting beyond recipes and moving into that place where you can become a good instinctive cook. I’ve also got his forthcoming book Ratio: The Simple Codes Behind the Craft of Everyday Cooking on pre-order at Amazon — this is exactly the kind of info I love. I’m bad at following recipes exactly — the ones I love are like the one I got from Clothilde for her French Yogurt Cake — it’s essentially a ratio that you can play around with — changing up the fruit, adding nuts, making it plain, or as I’ve been doing lately, cooking it in a bundt pan.

I love A Hunger Artist, although it’s not a site for folks looking for quick and easy cooking tips — Bob del Grosso was one of Ruhlman’s instructors at the Culinary Institute and is currently chronicling his journey into charcuterie. Which as you all know is a subject I’m fascinated by, so this is on my must-read list.

Thyme for Cooking is another blog I’ve been following lately. I really love her recipes — good solid homey food, especially as Kate and son mari are in the process of renovating a house in France so she hasn’t had a proper kitchen during these past few months I’ve been following the blog. I’m as fascinated by the house renovation as I am by the food, but this is one of those blogs that I nearly always want to cook and eat the recipe of the day.

What blogs are you all reading on a regular basis? What do they teach you about food or cooking or our food systems that you really value? My Google Reader could always use a few more good blogs, so let’s share some tips in the comments …

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Quick and Easy Dinner for a Busy Week

I don’t have a photo, because it didn’t even occur to me until this morning that the dinner I made last night was a good illustration of what we’ve all been talking about this week — eating at home is not rocket science.

As you can tell from the erratic nature of mid-week blogging, my day job has been a little insane lately. I’m lucky enough to have a remote position with a  Big Corporation, but the level of fear and anxiety that working in a Big Corporation entails these days as layoffs fall all around like autumn leaves in a cheesy movie, well, means that my weekdays are eight to ten hours at the computer that leave me feeling like the guy in the black chair in those old Memorex ads. It’s been a little intense.

Last night I rattled around the house for a while trying to figure out what to eat. I actually heated up a little gratin dish of the sauerkraut I made a few weeks ago, with a couple of potatoes and carrots cut up and mixed in, and a sausage from our local butcher, Matt. But by the time it was getting anywhere near being cooked, I didn’t want it anymore. My stomach was in that funny state where something sour felt like a bad idea. So I tucked the failed dinner in the fridge and started over.

Spaghetti with bacon and peas. It turned out that what I wanted was spaghetti with bacon and peas — something warm, and comforting. It had started to snow again. I put the water on to boil, took two strips of Matt’s fabulous bacon out of the package (thick cut, home cured and smoked) and cut them into pieces about half an inch wide. I put them in my trusty cast iron skillet with a small sliced onion, and let the whole thing saute while the noodles cooked. I like my bacon in this dish on the soft side, not crisp — I wanted that nice pink color that good bacon takes on when it’s cooked but not crisped up. When the noodles were ready I poured the water out (hint, if you want to heat your single-chick dinner bowl, pour the hot water from the pasta into it while you finish up), threw the noodles and a handful of frozen peas into the skillet, and then gave it a little lashing of cream. I have a lot of cream around the house these days — the Milk Lady’s cow is giving me nearly a quart a week these days. A quick pass with the peppermill, a grating of parmesan, and there it was, a really yummy dinner in 20 minutes.

Now I’m sure the fat police will have a fit — bacon! cream! But really, it’s not like I eat this every night, and I don’t know, I don’t pay that much attention to that stuff. I’m hardly skinny, but I’m not obese either. I’m a normal sized person who eats real food and walks two miles a day. Julia Child is my model — eat real food.

But this was a delicious dinner that took very little time to prepare, and was pretty cheap — I had everything in the fridge, all the food was real, and on a night where I got a late and chaotic start. It made me very happy. It made me feel all warm and okay in a terrifying economy in the middle of a week that feels like a battle every day, a battle to prove oneself. It made me feel like maybe today I can get back in there and do it all again.

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Start a Revolution, Bake a Cake

NPR has been running a series this week about how people are changing their eating habits during this recession and I’m finding it really depressing. So far, it’s all about how people aren’t eating out, or ordering in, but they’re eating prepared foods out of the frozen food aisle. They had a home economist on yesterday pointing out that a bag of frozen french fries costs about five bucks, and for that you can get a five pound bag of potatoes. Granted, if you want fries, there’s the scary frying part, but as the home economist pointed out, is there anything easier to cook than a baked potato? A potato that isn’t fried is good wholesome food. It has lots of potassium and minerals and is a good solid whole food. With a five pound sack of spuds, you can keep your family fed for a while, or, if you’re a single chick like me, you will have the security of knowing there are any number of dead easy dinners sitting in that sack in the bottom of your cupboard.

That there is this enormous population of people who do not cook at all, who eat out or order in every night, is an ongoing source of astonishment to me. Even here, in Livingston, where most of my friends cook as a matter of course, there are still people like my next door neighbor who does not cook at all. She goes out for coffee in the morning. Because she doesn’t know how to make coffee for herself. The pizza and Chinese restaurant delivery people are at her door most every night.

My dearest friends have five kids, and because of E’s job, they spend most school years in LA these days. Last year, during the writers’ strike, when money was really tight, Nina had several really strange conversations with some LA mothers who kept trying to convince her that cooking at home was more expensive than eating out. We were both sort of stymied by that one. I suppose if you don’t know how to cook at all, or how to shop and manage your fridge so that you cook and eat the fresh veggies before they go bad, then yes, you might consider shopping and cooking at home more expensive. I’ve written before about how strange I find it that as a nation we’ve come to consider “cooking from scratch” something so out of the ordinary that it has it’s own name, but I find it very alarming. How did we become a nation of people who don’t know how to feed ourselves?

Granted, I like to cook, as anyone who has been reading this blog for more than five minutes can tell, and yet I’m going to have another tiny rant — you do not need a cake mix from the store to make a cake. There’s nothing in a cake mix that you don’t, most likely, have in your house. Cake mixes have weird chemicals and preservatives in them. Any basic cookbook will have a recipe for a basic cake. I’ve written a lot about cake. But I’m going to do it one more time. It’s really easy to make a cake.

My girlfriend Debbie has a birthday tonight, so I’m going to make a variation on the French Yogurt cake that I first learned about from Clothilde at Chocolate and Zucchini. Because she uses the traditional French method of measuring by yogurt containers, I now use the recipe in Baking: From My Home to Yours by Dorie Greenspan. This cake is dead simple. Flour, sugar, baking soda, eggs, yogurt and some oil. I do it in a bundt pan with some sliced almonds sprinkled in first, then add some of the sour cherries I put up last spring. Fifty minutes in the oven, flip it on a rack to cool, and I’ll do a little easy glaze with lemon juice and powdered sugar. And there you have it — a cake that is made from nothing but good clean delicious ingredients. It takes about ten minutes to mix up. It looks pretty because you do it in a pretty pan, but even if you do it in a loaf pan like the recipe suggests, a slice of cake with some fruit and perhaps some whipped cream? What could be prettier? And you have the added satisfaction of knowing you’re feeding your loved ones something wholesome that will make them happy.

So just do it. Make a stand against the eroding life skills of a fat, rich, America. Bake a cake. Bake a cake from ingredients in your house, and serve it to someone you love. Let the revolution begin with cake!

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Return of the Sun

The sun has come back. We feel like pagans here in MyLittleTown, ready to thow a party and rejoice. We were not forsaken! The sun came back! It’s been light before seven in the morning and until nearly six at night. It’s like being let out of jail.

And so, because the evenings have not come slamming down at 4:30, and because it’s been sort of mild and pleasant out, I’ve fired up the grill again. My new friend Sabrina came for dinner mid-week, and I marinated some local lamb chops in yogurt, lime juice, olive oil and spices, then did them on the grill. And a couple of days later, I found a mystery package of elk round in the freezer and decided to see what I could do with it. I’ve learned over the past couple of years that thos vaccum bags that look like one piece of meat are often several smaller pieces, and that was the case here. Which was good because the whole thing would have been a lot, so as it was starting to thaw, I could separate it and put the sections I didn’t want yet back in the freezer.

Anyhow, marinated the elk in lime juice, chile powder, olive oil and a lot of salt and pepper, then grilled them on a very hot grill. I’m sort of a fanatic about mesquite charcoal — it’s the only thing that gets hot enough, and I hate hate hate the petroleum taste of briquettes.

At any rate, it was a great mid-week meal. A few slices of lovely medium-rare grilled elk, on some leftover saffron rice, with asparagus. It was pretty, it tasted good, and there was no clean up! So happy to have the grill back in play.

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In Praise of the Soft Boiled Egg

There are mornings when you just can’t quite summon the will to proceed, mornings where you’re groggy, and dreading your job, and feeling like it’s all a long treadmill of the same old same old and here you are again.

On those mornings, sometimes all it takes is a good egg. A nice piece of toast with some butter, and a three minute egg you bought from your local chicken farmer. I buy mine from Isabelle, my milk lady, and while they are very expensive — about six dollars a dozen, they are really great eggs. I say this as someone who has been cheating a little lately on my egg lady. I bought some other, local, ranch eggs and I’m sorry to say, they just weren’t as good. The shells were very thin, and the yolks had a slightly funky, too-eggy taste to them that was not what one wants out of a soft boiled egg at 6:30 in the morning when one is trying to summon the will to go on. And so, I went back to my Isabelle, whose eggs are a lovely brown color, they have very sturdy shells, bright marigold colored yolks, and a perfect, clean eggy taste.

This morning, one of Isabelle’s eggs, with some chive and thyme from the winter herb garden on the back porch, a little alleppo pepper and some sea salt, well, it restored my will to live. A piece of my own sourdough bread toasted, an orange sliced into eighths, a cup of strong tea, and a walk with Raymond-the-dog, and well, Monday is now something that I can deal with. Saved by an egg.

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Winter Herb Garden

 Winter Herb Garden Here’s the winter herb garden on the mudroom porch. As you can see, the shiso and the basil bit the dust. It was just too cold out there.

The funny thing is that for a long time all of them were just sort of dormant. The mint did nothing for months — I did have a little aphid infestation on the mint when I first brought it in last fall, but even after I killed them off, the mint just sat there with these little tiny nascent leaves that never did anything. Then about three weeks ago, it came back to life. It’s very leggy — I cut a bunch back last weekend, but I’m thrilled to have mint again. I can feel my annual spring obsession with green yogurt sauce hovering out there on the horizon. So it’s good to have some mint again.

The thyme has also had some sort of spring growth spurt. It spent the winter all sort of hard and woody and semi-dried up (I watered, really I did) and like the mint, in the past few weeks it’s taken a turn for the springlike. It’s got these lovely fresh soft little leaves sprouting all over, which has certainly been a lovely thing for my cooking.

The rosemary has done exactly what I ask of it in the winter, it hasn’t died. It hasn’t grown at all, but it hasn’t died on me, so I’m happy with it. The marjoram has been very happy out there on the cool porch all winter, the problem is, to me, it tastes like pine-sol. Don’t love it.

And the chives, like the mint, were sort of dormant all winter, but now appear to be coming back to life.

So all in all, I think it was worth the electricity for the grow lights to keep the herbs out there. We’re still a good six weeks from anything edible coming back outside, and when you consider that a package of mint at the grocery store is $2.99 (and comes from who knows where, and is the wrong sort of mint since it isn’t the mint that grows outside my back door), well, I figure I’ve probably about broken even. And it was lovely this morning to only have to go to the porch to get some thyme and some chive for my soft boiled egg.

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Foraging at Home

The last two nights remind me why I spent all that time last summer putting food away. Even though I believe that Sunday’s require the smell of something braising, that warm scent of something bubbling gently filling the house, this Sunday was so gorgeous that I went outside all day long. By dinnertime, I was hungry, but not particularly interested in something meaty. So I rummaged around in the freezer until I found a couple of stuffed cabbage rolls I put away last summer.

I went on a saffron-rice-and-leftovers kick last summer; in particular, a saffron-rice-and-leftovers wrapped in cabbage leaves kick. I did a bunch of them, froze them in individual portions, knowing that there would come an evening like last night, where I didn’t particularly want to cook, but I also didn’t want to eat something crappy.

So, out of the freezer, into a baking dish with a little homemade tomato sauce, some cheese, and into the toaster oven. Forty minutes later, I had a nice plate of hot, homemade food.

Tonight, kind of the same story, although substitute killer day at work for lovely afternoon in the backyard (can one do that without breaking the space-time continuum?). At any rate, again, wasn’t that interested in a big dinner, so I put some pasta on — I made a little artichoke spread this weekend (drained canned artichokes, garlic, parsley, aleppo pepper, olive oil, vinegar all in the Cuisinart). I had an open jar of pickled oyster mushrooms in the fridge. So — linguine in the pot, rinse and chop the mushrooms, and once the pasta is cooked — toss the mushrooms, a couple of big tablespoons of artichoke spread, and some feta cheese — and look! you have dinner.

This is what I like about taking the time to put food by during the summer when I have fabulous ingredients and the sun shines all the time and I feel creative. Because winter will come — whether it’s actual winter, or just that wintertime of the soul, those evenings when you just can’t deal. Do you want a crummy frozen pizza? Do you want mac and cheese from a box (sometimes, yeah). Or do you want something nice that you made, with fabulous ingredients, on a sunny afternoon when you had the energy. I think there’s something about the energy that went into putting things by that pays off when, like tonight, you’re having a low moment. It comes back to you. The energy pays itself back. You were a little blue. But now you’re not, because you ate something lovely, and the little flame of hope is fed deep down inside your soul.

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Recipe Mashup: Pork Braised in Milk with New Mexico Chile

It’s funny, when I make up a dish, I don’t really think of it as a recipe. I was watching the Superbowl with a couple of friends the other night and I told them how I’d cooked a pork shoulder roast that afternoon even though I knew I wasn’t going to be home that evening. It just feels wrong not to have something cooking on a Sunday afternoon (and leftovers are what I live on all week). I was saying that I’d sort of crossed the Italian pork braised in milk technique with something Southwestern-y because a girlfriend sent me a big bag of delicious New Mexico Chile. Deb wanted the recipe, so I told her I’d try to write it down.

When I had my pig butchered I had Matt cut the pork shoulders into small roasts — about a pound and a half probably. I started by salting and peppering the meat then browning the roast on all sides in my Le Crueset. When it was done browning, I deglazed the pot with about a cup of white wine, then sprinkled each side with a heaping soupspoon of New Mexico red chile, medium hot. My friend Debra from Tucson bought me half a pound of chile from an old woman when she was in Santa Fe this fall, and it’s lovely. Fruity and warm, not hot, but just delicious. Because it was the end of the week I had nearly a quart of Isabelle’s good milk from her Jersey cows leftover, so I poured that over the meat, then added 2 bay leaves, six or seven cloves of garlic, the zest of half an orange and a generous sprinkling of oregano (from last summer’s garden). I put the whole thing in the oven at 250 degrees and left it there while I went off to watch the Superbowl.

When I came home that evening, my house smelled lovely. I put the pot of pork out in the cold frame for the night, then last night I reheated it. Like all braises, it was even better for having sat overnight. I defatted it as much as I could, then when it was time to serve, I pulled the meat out, removed the bay leaves, then emulsified the sauce with my stick blender. When you braise pork in milk, the milk proteins separate out and it can look a little funky. But once you whiz it up, you get a nice smooth gravy I suppose. I don’t really come from a gravy people, so I’d never thought of it that way, but that would be what we’re dealing with. Slow cooked pork like this is delicious over rice with chopped scallions and some cilantro. It also makes a terrific taco or burrito for lunch. I’ll put about half of it in the freezer for later, and will eat pork with chile in many forms for the rest of the week. My favorite kind of recipe, when you look around your kitchen or pantry and start thinking, hmm, these might be good together. Pork, chiles, orange, garlic and a nice winey, creamy sauce. What’s not to like?

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