I know this floor well.
Its every groove, the width of the planks, the thickness of the thin rug on it. I know how many layers to put on the floor so that I can lay on it through the night, and wake up with some semblance of normalcy and comfort at having had a (somewhat) full night's rest. And I know how many layers I need to keep me comfortable at different times of the year, different weather conditions outside, and the conditions inside. It's the conditions inside that often prompt me to sleep on this floor - most notably, when Baby1 falls ill, as Baby2 seems to have inherited some derivation of my immune system.
Thankfully, she falls ill quite a lot less now than she used to when she was a baby. I still remember the first time I fell asleep on that floor, quite by accident, after putting her to bed after nursing. I lay there for a bit just until she fell asleep - until I found that it was both of us who had completely fallen asleep, me snoring a lot louder than she. I remember sleeping on that floor next to her little crib, when she had an awful coughing fit for a good part of one night, refused food and water, enough that the next morning she was dehydrated and we entailed our first visit to and overnight stay at the children's hospital downtown. There were many nights during her growing years, when I would sleep next to her on the floor, just to be able to hold and squeeze her hand in mine when she coughed during the night, to let her know I was there and to express silent empathy for her coughing and sniffling. These days, she falls ill only with minor colds and coughs, but every little cough is still enough for a request that I sleep next to her.
I remember coming home after an evening out, and her coughing woke her. I heard her little feet pitter-patter across the floor upstairs. Beckoned her downstairs, to find a pouty-faced little girl who lamented that she was coughing again and couldn't sleep. Could you sleep next to me, she asked. Why of course I would. I know these nights and requests won't last forever.
So there I went, layering blankets and sheets on the floor so that I could sleep between her and Baby2. She had already folded her quilt and arranged it like a pillow for my head - but I would use it as my cover last night and my own pillow for my head. She, all tucked into her flannel cover, body stretched practically from the headboard to the foot of her toddler bed, watched with big-as-moon eyes as I arranged the covers to keep myself comfortable. She offered an animal - a stuffed tiger - as my sleeping companion. And then, as I tucked myself in for the night, from the edge of her bed came her little hand.
I held and squeezed her hand - and while I hold her hand just about every morning we walk to school together, I realized just last night in the quiet of sure sleep how much her little hand had grown, almost as big as mine. She requested our song, and we sang it together - and I remembered back to that night in the hospital when I held her little baby hand in mine and sang the same song to her, as she slowly drifted off to sleep. I rarely let go of that hand before she falls asleep.
So I know the floor well, as I lay here now holding Baby1's hand to help her go back to sleep, after our unbelievably early morning alarm clock a la woodpecker on my metal chimney cap, hammering his notice to all the girls out there while sending sounds like a jackhammer reverberating through our house (the boys, classic, sleep through the whole thing. I cough up that ability to comfort to knowing someone else will take care of the problem.). I know its every groove, plank, and joint has supported my little moments with my little girl, and while these moments won't last forever, I'll dream of sleeping on tatami mats while I hold her little hand.
Tuesday, June 25, 2013
Sunday, May 12, 2013
Before I forget
I call it the mother's alzheimer. I remember something insanely important, only to lose the memory in a split second as one of my dear children swipe any brain cell of mine that's working from my head as they ask me where their such-and-such toy is for the upteenth time in a row or ask me to put on my diplomacy hat for some debate they had over something, anything. Some days, I can handle it; some days, I just have to reach for a pen and paper, and make damn sure I write stuff down before it leaks out my ear.
So when presented with the chance to head out west, I couldn't resist. What, my cousin's already graduating from Law School? Berkeley (my original western crush)? Um, yeah, I think I can make my schedule work (I made damn sure my schedule worked, one way or another). And west I went. Singular. Get me some me time. Ahh.
Hubby stayed home with the kids. Kind soul, he survived. Barely. Such was his desire to make sure I stayed here, that he sought out vegan options for Mother's Day dinner tonight. V. E. G. A. N. That's pure love, right there - or maybe he's beginning to get the brain suck too. I'm not yet sure which.
So west. Westward Ho. Flight up, flight down, and with some level of trepidation (it's been over 10 years since I've taken a trip *almost* completely on my own. last go-around was a solo trip to spain. mmm spain.) I set foot in the City by the Bay. As is my wandering nature, I immediately starting stomping the grounds. Hit up a couple of friends (yay Miriam! yay Ned!), and immediately gulped down what I could of the lay of the land so that I could find my way without being a complete and total *idiot*tourist. Googlemaps became my best friend, and before I knew it, I was answering tourists' questions with witty answers like, sorry you're holding your map upside down, and yes, you can walk all the way there but hell no not in those shoes honey.
Before I digress too far about my recharge trip - I had preluded my westward expedition with bringing raw vegan food into my life this spring. No, not the complete turnover of my bodyfeed - and, no, not just because I was heading to SanFran - but I just wanted to bring more raw vegan food into my bodyfeed repertoire. It's been an amazing (born-again) experience, feeling the total fill of raw food start off my day, give me an energy boost that most breakfast sandwiches can't stand to fulfill. My raw experience first started with *then* Pure Food and Takeaway in NYC, probably over 8 years ago. Over time, I kept thinking back to that first visit, the amazing feeling the food gave me, and highlighting raw foods when I could (it's just damn hard in the winter, when all i crave is hearty, piping hot, steaming food). Salads were easy. Fruit desserts were easy. But they were all singular items, monodimensional. Boring.
So I hit on the idea of making my own raw food smoothies this spring. Fruits were coming to a fore, as were leafy greens at our local organic market. We'd be stepping into the 3rd year of being part of a CSA (I know, late to the game...). I just started drinking almond milk as a means of eating closer to the ground where I can. Perfect opportunity to throw together something and see if it works. I found I could start up a great mixture in the blender while getting the kids ready for school, and by the time everyone was ready to go, so was my smoothie. Add a little extra almond milk to liquify a bit more, or hold off for more density. Either way, the mixtures I made (always varied based on what we had in the fridge) amazingly gave me energy and kept me full until lunch. And 1 mix in the fridge was good for the whole week.
So...before I forget...
West. San Fran. How amazing is it that there were juice bars sprinkled all over the city, with as wide a variety of ingredients as there are items growing in our ground all over the globe. Close-to-the-ground eating is also a lot more prevalent and available than on the east coast. The smoothies and juices I had were pure amazing, raw, energy-raising and mind opening mixtures that kept me going throughout the day as I hiked up and down all the hills I could. And just by using just what I have in the fridge, it's a way that, now back east, I can connect with the west, keep that close-to-the-ground one-step-at-a-time side of me somewhat fulfilled.
Awesome Great Raw Smoothies to Celebrate Spring or Any Season
- 1 Blender. Yes, oh humble blender. I have a juicer, but the basics suit just fine.
- Selection of sweet vegetables (I like raw beets for their color, carrots for their sweetness, rhubarb because it's rhubarb, and kale for its iron content)
- Selection of other vegetables (I've done spinach, mixed leafy greens, but nothing starchy)
- Selection of fruits (pick ones in season, cut into smaller chunks if necessary. Right now I like berries, but adding apples, grapes, and oranges are also fabulous)
- Liquid (I use almond milk)
- Other additives if you'd like (wheatgrass, spirulina, yogurt too)
Add hardest/crunchiest fruits and vegetables at the bottom of the blender, topped by softer fruits and vegetables. Top with almond milk. Turn on blender to low. Make sure you tighten that cover first.
Add more almond milk to your desired texture through the hole in the lid. Pour into a cup. Breathe. Enjoy. (safe the rest in a covered bottle in the fridge for more servings throughout the week)
*Quantities - I've thrown in typically a pint or two of berries; 2-3 carrots; 1-2 medium beets; 1/2-1 pound of greens; 1 apple, and about 2-3 cups of almond milk. This mixture becomes my base, that I use throughout the week for more (fast) smoothies via adding more almond milk.
So when presented with the chance to head out west, I couldn't resist. What, my cousin's already graduating from Law School? Berkeley (my original western crush)? Um, yeah, I think I can make my schedule work (I made damn sure my schedule worked, one way or another). And west I went. Singular. Get me some me time. Ahh.
Hubby stayed home with the kids. Kind soul, he survived. Barely. Such was his desire to make sure I stayed here, that he sought out vegan options for Mother's Day dinner tonight. V. E. G. A. N. That's pure love, right there - or maybe he's beginning to get the brain suck too. I'm not yet sure which.
So west. Westward Ho. Flight up, flight down, and with some level of trepidation (it's been over 10 years since I've taken a trip *almost* completely on my own. last go-around was a solo trip to spain. mmm spain.) I set foot in the City by the Bay. As is my wandering nature, I immediately starting stomping the grounds. Hit up a couple of friends (yay Miriam! yay Ned!), and immediately gulped down what I could of the lay of the land so that I could find my way without being a complete and total *idiot*tourist. Googlemaps became my best friend, and before I knew it, I was answering tourists' questions with witty answers like, sorry you're holding your map upside down, and yes, you can walk all the way there but hell no not in those shoes honey.
So I hit on the idea of making my own raw food smoothies this spring. Fruits were coming to a fore, as were leafy greens at our local organic market. We'd be stepping into the 3rd year of being part of a CSA (I know, late to the game...). I just started drinking almond milk as a means of eating closer to the ground where I can. Perfect opportunity to throw together something and see if it works. I found I could start up a great mixture in the blender while getting the kids ready for school, and by the time everyone was ready to go, so was my smoothie. Add a little extra almond milk to liquify a bit more, or hold off for more density. Either way, the mixtures I made (always varied based on what we had in the fridge) amazingly gave me energy and kept me full until lunch. And 1 mix in the fridge was good for the whole week.
So...before I forget...
West. San Fran. How amazing is it that there were juice bars sprinkled all over the city, with as wide a variety of ingredients as there are items growing in our ground all over the globe. Close-to-the-ground eating is also a lot more prevalent and available than on the east coast. The smoothies and juices I had were pure amazing, raw, energy-raising and mind opening mixtures that kept me going throughout the day as I hiked up and down all the hills I could. And just by using just what I have in the fridge, it's a way that, now back east, I can connect with the west, keep that close-to-the-ground one-step-at-a-time side of me somewhat fulfilled.
Awesome Great Raw Smoothies to Celebrate Spring or Any Season
- 1 Blender. Yes, oh humble blender. I have a juicer, but the basics suit just fine.
- Selection of sweet vegetables (I like raw beets for their color, carrots for their sweetness, rhubarb because it's rhubarb, and kale for its iron content)
- Selection of other vegetables (I've done spinach, mixed leafy greens, but nothing starchy)
- Selection of fruits (pick ones in season, cut into smaller chunks if necessary. Right now I like berries, but adding apples, grapes, and oranges are also fabulous)
- Liquid (I use almond milk)
- Other additives if you'd like (wheatgrass, spirulina, yogurt too)
Add hardest/crunchiest fruits and vegetables at the bottom of the blender, topped by softer fruits and vegetables. Top with almond milk. Turn on blender to low. Make sure you tighten that cover first.
Add more almond milk to your desired texture through the hole in the lid. Pour into a cup. Breathe. Enjoy. (safe the rest in a covered bottle in the fridge for more servings throughout the week)
*Quantities - I've thrown in typically a pint or two of berries; 2-3 carrots; 1-2 medium beets; 1/2-1 pound of greens; 1 apple, and about 2-3 cups of almond milk. This mixture becomes my base, that I use throughout the week for more (fast) smoothies via adding more almond milk.
Saturday, August 25, 2012
You are what you... a note on CA Prop 37
Ever wonder exactly what's in
Miracle-Gro? Or what kind of "filter" the water goes through, and what kind of "water" is used, to make
your beverage? Or why it is that supermarket produce look so much bigger
and brighter than those from your local farmers' market (you do have
one, right?!)? Or how in the world your food is made? If not - you should. I mean, you're worried about carbs, calories, and quantity - ever wonder about content, composition, and quality?
Of most recent interest is the developments regarding Proposition 37 in California. Now, this is not some extreme-left-wing swing at the mainstream, though it may appear that way. It's a proposition on how we should regard GMO's (genetically-modified organism) and bring them to consumers' awareness on store shelves in this country.
I may have been swayed by my reading of some works by Michael Pollan. I may have been swayed by years of teachers and media shoving it down our throats that we need to recycle, because putting that plastic bottle in the trash will yield centuries of undecomposed plastic bottles piled up next to undecomposing diapers and undecomposing metal waste next to seagulls and penguins with their beaks tied up by Coca-Cola can holders. I may even have been swayed by my neighborhood's (read: metro DC) and most urban areas' tout of local is better, and the more local the better (as in, if you got the yard, you better use it for more than just tossin' the ball around with the young whippersnapper).
All these factors may have held me in their hypnotic clasp, which make me all the more concerned about what I'm eating. But as I look back, I find that I was swayed not by any of these factors, though they did help bolster my original beliefs that our ecosystem is a closed system, and stuff doesn't just disappear - no matter if it's tangible or not. I also find that these factors may help reinforce my beliefs that we are indeed what we eat - so we should have some serious awareness of what we eat, because our bodies are indeed closed systems that at some point really can not heal themselves. What I found most remarkable was that my concern about the significance of Proposition 37 stemmed from a deep-rooted background developed by a couple of FOB parents who (a)insisted on a Buddhist mentality in approach on life; (b) practiced a brief stint in macrobiotic eating at a time when health-food stores were little more than dark, tiny vitamin-marts with small selections of homemade granola, Amy's was just a starting company whose only product on the shelves were their soy-cheese pizzas, and running chicken was the terminology for the whole chickens they sold; and (c)did not buy their produce from supermarkets but from the local farmer's market whose products came from Lancaster County, a mere 2 hours away. Oh, we still hit the supermarkets all right - for mass-produced goods like plastic bags, dried goods, bread, canned goods - and meat. I know, I eschew the canned-food approach and search out organic meats now, but for a couple of parents whose childhoods of (basically) poverty were shaped in part by their parents who survived occupation and stowed food whenever they could, their blind cost-effective approach made sense.
(what was funny, and what IS funny, is that I still love going to that farmers' market. that farmers' market was around when i was little kid, long before farmers' markets were part of the mainstream.)
Soda was a treat at our family potluck parties, but dimsum was akin to back-to-roots mom's ole coking for them. We rarely cooked pasta Italian style, but they did cook quite a few other rice pastas throughout my childhood (still miss Mom's stir-fried rice vermicelli with chicken, dried shrimps, and julienne vegetables). We used oil in cooking, but just enough to do what it's supposed to (lightly coat by a mere tablespoonful for stir-fry items, or enough for deep fry) - we did not use oil as a means of saucing any dish. Most of our day-in/day-out stir-fry dishes were, for the most part, very simple: salt, pepper, garlic. That's it.
So here's the quick nickel tour of Prop 37: it is a requirement, primarily, for food producers to label their foods if they used GMO raw materials as ingredients. The only exceptions: if the GMO materials do not account for more than .5% of the total product weight or if the product does not include more than 10 such ingredients; alcoholic beverages; restaurant-prepared foods; food produced that have not been knowingly comingled with GMO foods; foods that have been produced using genetically-engineered enzymes or processing aids; foods derived entirely from any animal that has not been genetically engineered (but may have been injected with genetically engineered medicines).
For people who shop along the perimeter for food, this may not be so much of an issue - unless the fruits and vegetables were grown from genetically-modified seeds. What troubles me so much in this development is not that there is opposition - for any idea, there should always be some opposition so as to keep the spirit of debate and discussion alive in this country. It is the shear mass of opposition. And all just for this issue to have been raised not at the federal level, but at the state level in one state: California.
Could it be that in the realm of progressive, anti-mainstream thinking, this is the state where things start - and the opposition is worried about the progression of the same line of thought through other states as well? I'd like to think that they were that actively concerned that this move would put a microscope and a magnifying glass on their production process - but I'm more worried that it's simply because they have such a stronghold on the industrialization of the country and the blinding of the American consumer that they'd like for us to think that the status quo - their status quo - is perfectly acceptable and would like for us to continue thinking that way, all in the name of money-saving.
Socialist agenda or not - remember reading The Jungle, in our grade-school days? Did you ever have that sinking feeling of seeing what Jurgis and his family was going through, and realizing that every step he took was one in the wrong direction, but that every step was one that was orchestrated by some bigger hand he couldn't escape - and even if he took the right step, he still wouldn't be able to get away from the hand? It was akin to watching a horror movie and knowing exactly which dumbass was going to die next. Paste to our country's food-processing industry. It's enough to want me to grow my own rice, fish my own fish, raise my own animals, farm all my own vegetables.
So here's a rundown on the two sides of the battle and what they've contributed to their sides to-date, as released by the California Secretary of State. And what's most concerning is that some of the big producers have ownership of organic brands who have made headway in the mainstream markets
(see the full list here: http://www.mercurynews.com/business/ci_21386000/prop-37-donations?source=pkg&appSession=53810318406463&RecordID=&PageID=2&PrevPageID=2&cpipage=2&CPIsortType=desc&CPIorderby=Position&cbCurrentPageSize=)
For Prop 37:
MERCOLA.COM HEALTH RESOURCES LLC - $800,000.00
ORGANIC CONSUMERS FUND - $634,639.25
DR. BRONNER'S MAGIC SOAPS ALL-ONE-GOD-FAITH INC. - $290,000.00
NATURE'S PATH FOODS U.S.A. INC. FINE NATURAL FOOD PRODUCTS - $250,709.21
WEHAH FARM, INC., DBA LUNDBERG FAMILY FARMS - $200,000.00
CROPP COOPERATIVE INC. ORGANIC VALLEY - $50,000.00
ORGANIC CONSUMERS ASSOCIATION - $40,000.00
AMY'S KITCHEN - $25,000.00
PRESENCE MARKETING, INC. - $20,000.00
ACE HOLDINGS LLC - $10,000.00
SKY VALLEY FOODS - $7,500.00
TRACEY MCGRATHTRACEY MCGRATHARTIST AND INVESTOR - $6,125.00
STRAUS FAMILY CREAMERY - $5,000.00
TRADITIONAL MEDICINALS - $5,000.00
EDWARD & SONS TRADING COMPANY, INC. - $4,000.00
Against Prop 37:
MONSANTO COMPANY - $4,208,000.00
E.I. DUPONT DE NEMOURS & CO. - $4,025,200.00
PEPSICO, INC. - $1,716,300.00
BASF PLANT SCIENCE - $1,642,300.00
BAYER CROPSCIENCE - $1,618,400.00
DOW AGROSCIENCES LLC - $1,184,800.00
NESTLE USA, INC. - $1,169,400.00
COCA-COLA NORTH AMERICA - $1,164,400.00
CONAGRA FOODS (owns ALEXIA) - $1,076,700.00
SYNGENTA CORPORATION - $821,300.00
KELLOGG COMPANY - $632,500.00
GENERAL MILLS, INC. (owns LARABAR, MUIR GLEN, NATURE VALLEY, MOUNTAIN HIGH, CASCADIAN FARM, GOOD EARTH) - $519,401.17
HERSHEY COMPANY (owns SCHARFFEN BERGER) - $498,006.72
THE J.M. SMUCKER COMPANY - $388,000.00
COUNCIL FOR BIOTECHNOLOGY INFORMATION - $375,000.00
GROCERY MANUFACTURERS ASSOCIATION - $375,000.00
HORMEL FOODS CORPORATION - $374,300.00
BIMBO BAKERIES USA - $338,300.00
PIONEER HI-BRED INTERNATIONAL, A DUPONT BUSINESS - $310,100.00
OCEAN SPRAY CRANBERRIES, INC. - $301,553.21
PINNACLE FOODS GROUP LLC - $266,100.00
DEAN FOODS COMPANY (dairy production company which owns Horizon, Silk, Lehigh Valley, Shenandoah, PET, Swiss Farms, Dean's Purity, Brown's, Foremost, Oak Farms, Hygeia, McArthur, Meadow Gold, Morning Glory, Jilbert, Meadow Brook, Friendship, Tuscan, Mayfield Dairy Farms, Berkeley Farms, Model Dairy, Alta Dena, Swiss, Robinson Dairy, Creamland, Alpro, International Delight, Land-o-Lakes, and TruMoo) - $253,950.00
BIOTECHNOLOGY INDUSTRY ORGANIZATION - $252,000.00
MCCORMICK & COMPANY, INC. - $248,200.00
WM. WRIGLEY JR. COMPANY - $237,664.90
RICH PRODUCTS CORPORATION - $225,537.15
CARGILL, INC. (OWNS TRUVIA) - $202,229.36
DEL MONTE FOODS COMPANY - $189,974.61
KNOUSE FOODS COOPERATIVE, INC. - $135,831.53
MARS FOOD NORTH AMERICA - $100,242.69
BUMBLE BEE FOODS, LLC - $98,073.62
SUNNY DELIGHT BEVERAGES COMPANY - $96,952.57
SARA LEE CORPORATION - $96,833.22
CAMPBELL SOUP COMPANY - $70,454.91
SOLAE, LLC - $61,207.43
MCCAIN FOODS USA, INC. - $52,295.63
DOLE PACKAGED FOODS COMPANY - $45,580.05
C. H. GUENTHER & SON, INC. - $24,189.18
LAND O'LAKES, INC. - $21,513.78
HERO NORTH AMERICA - $21,044.96
MORTON SALT - $20,957.42
INVENTURE FOODS, INC. - $11,343.80
GODIVA CHOCOLATIER, INC. - $11,121.53
HOUSE-AUTRY MILLS, INC. - $1,077.27
RICHELIEU FOODS, INC. - $165.80
Some of these companies were complete givens (damn, where's Walmart when you need it!) - but who knew how deep some of these companies reached into our definitely of wholesome eating? And granted, while I don't encourage eating of the foods from the middle of the supermarket or from the drive-thru, we don't completely eschew some of these little once-in-a-long-while (i.e., if you can't remember the last time you were in the place + 6 months) snacks. But while we eat this food, just as while we recognize how out-of-norm eating out should be, we do recognize the negative effect the foods have on us. And outside of our kids' continuous pandering for all things colorful, overly sugared, and processed, we typically do not even entertain purchasing these items except in dire emergencies. Like, hurricane's a-comin and we might not get out of it until the next season rolls around kind of emergency.
Take a read, understand what's at stake if we let things just go along their merry way as they have been. There's a lot more than just dollars here. And it could be a huge wake-up call for anyone who has never read a food label on the stuff they're putting into their bodies.
Of most recent interest is the developments regarding Proposition 37 in California. Now, this is not some extreme-left-wing swing at the mainstream, though it may appear that way. It's a proposition on how we should regard GMO's (genetically-modified organism) and bring them to consumers' awareness on store shelves in this country.
I may have been swayed by my reading of some works by Michael Pollan. I may have been swayed by years of teachers and media shoving it down our throats that we need to recycle, because putting that plastic bottle in the trash will yield centuries of undecomposed plastic bottles piled up next to undecomposing diapers and undecomposing metal waste next to seagulls and penguins with their beaks tied up by Coca-Cola can holders. I may even have been swayed by my neighborhood's (read: metro DC) and most urban areas' tout of local is better, and the more local the better (as in, if you got the yard, you better use it for more than just tossin' the ball around with the young whippersnapper).
All these factors may have held me in their hypnotic clasp, which make me all the more concerned about what I'm eating. But as I look back, I find that I was swayed not by any of these factors, though they did help bolster my original beliefs that our ecosystem is a closed system, and stuff doesn't just disappear - no matter if it's tangible or not. I also find that these factors may help reinforce my beliefs that we are indeed what we eat - so we should have some serious awareness of what we eat, because our bodies are indeed closed systems that at some point really can not heal themselves. What I found most remarkable was that my concern about the significance of Proposition 37 stemmed from a deep-rooted background developed by a couple of FOB parents who (a)insisted on a Buddhist mentality in approach on life; (b) practiced a brief stint in macrobiotic eating at a time when health-food stores were little more than dark, tiny vitamin-marts with small selections of homemade granola, Amy's was just a starting company whose only product on the shelves were their soy-cheese pizzas, and running chicken was the terminology for the whole chickens they sold; and (c)did not buy their produce from supermarkets but from the local farmer's market whose products came from Lancaster County, a mere 2 hours away. Oh, we still hit the supermarkets all right - for mass-produced goods like plastic bags, dried goods, bread, canned goods - and meat. I know, I eschew the canned-food approach and search out organic meats now, but for a couple of parents whose childhoods of (basically) poverty were shaped in part by their parents who survived occupation and stowed food whenever they could, their blind cost-effective approach made sense.
(what was funny, and what IS funny, is that I still love going to that farmers' market. that farmers' market was around when i was little kid, long before farmers' markets were part of the mainstream.)
Soda was a treat at our family potluck parties, but dimsum was akin to back-to-roots mom's ole coking for them. We rarely cooked pasta Italian style, but they did cook quite a few other rice pastas throughout my childhood (still miss Mom's stir-fried rice vermicelli with chicken, dried shrimps, and julienne vegetables). We used oil in cooking, but just enough to do what it's supposed to (lightly coat by a mere tablespoonful for stir-fry items, or enough for deep fry) - we did not use oil as a means of saucing any dish. Most of our day-in/day-out stir-fry dishes were, for the most part, very simple: salt, pepper, garlic. That's it.
So here's the quick nickel tour of Prop 37: it is a requirement, primarily, for food producers to label their foods if they used GMO raw materials as ingredients. The only exceptions: if the GMO materials do not account for more than .5% of the total product weight or if the product does not include more than 10 such ingredients; alcoholic beverages; restaurant-prepared foods; food produced that have not been knowingly comingled with GMO foods; foods that have been produced using genetically-engineered enzymes or processing aids; foods derived entirely from any animal that has not been genetically engineered (but may have been injected with genetically engineered medicines).
For people who shop along the perimeter for food, this may not be so much of an issue - unless the fruits and vegetables were grown from genetically-modified seeds. What troubles me so much in this development is not that there is opposition - for any idea, there should always be some opposition so as to keep the spirit of debate and discussion alive in this country. It is the shear mass of opposition. And all just for this issue to have been raised not at the federal level, but at the state level in one state: California.
Could it be that in the realm of progressive, anti-mainstream thinking, this is the state where things start - and the opposition is worried about the progression of the same line of thought through other states as well? I'd like to think that they were that actively concerned that this move would put a microscope and a magnifying glass on their production process - but I'm more worried that it's simply because they have such a stronghold on the industrialization of the country and the blinding of the American consumer that they'd like for us to think that the status quo - their status quo - is perfectly acceptable and would like for us to continue thinking that way, all in the name of money-saving.
Socialist agenda or not - remember reading The Jungle, in our grade-school days? Did you ever have that sinking feeling of seeing what Jurgis and his family was going through, and realizing that every step he took was one in the wrong direction, but that every step was one that was orchestrated by some bigger hand he couldn't escape - and even if he took the right step, he still wouldn't be able to get away from the hand? It was akin to watching a horror movie and knowing exactly which dumbass was going to die next. Paste to our country's food-processing industry. It's enough to want me to grow my own rice, fish my own fish, raise my own animals, farm all my own vegetables.
So here's a rundown on the two sides of the battle and what they've contributed to their sides to-date, as released by the California Secretary of State. And what's most concerning is that some of the big producers have ownership of organic brands who have made headway in the mainstream markets
(see the full list here: http://www.mercurynews.com/business/ci_21386000/prop-37-donations?source=pkg&appSession=53810318406463&RecordID=&PageID=2&PrevPageID=2&cpipage=2&CPIsortType=desc&CPIorderby=Position&cbCurrentPageSize=)
For Prop 37:
MERCOLA.COM HEALTH RESOURCES LLC - $800,000.00
ORGANIC CONSUMERS FUND - $634,639.25
DR. BRONNER'S MAGIC SOAPS ALL-ONE-GOD-FAITH INC. - $290,000.00
NATURE'S PATH FOODS U.S.A. INC. FINE NATURAL FOOD PRODUCTS - $250,709.21
WEHAH FARM, INC., DBA LUNDBERG FAMILY FARMS - $200,000.00
CROPP COOPERATIVE INC. ORGANIC VALLEY - $50,000.00
ORGANIC CONSUMERS ASSOCIATION - $40,000.00
AMY'S KITCHEN - $25,000.00
PRESENCE MARKETING, INC. - $20,000.00
ACE HOLDINGS LLC - $10,000.00
SKY VALLEY FOODS - $7,500.00
TRACEY MCGRATHTRACEY MCGRATHARTIST AND INVESTOR - $6,125.00
STRAUS FAMILY CREAMERY - $5,000.00
TRADITIONAL MEDICINALS - $5,000.00
EDWARD & SONS TRADING COMPANY, INC. - $4,000.00
Against Prop 37:
MONSANTO COMPANY - $4,208,000.00
E.I. DUPONT DE NEMOURS & CO. - $4,025,200.00
PEPSICO, INC. - $1,716,300.00
BASF PLANT SCIENCE - $1,642,300.00
BAYER CROPSCIENCE - $1,618,400.00
DOW AGROSCIENCES LLC - $1,184,800.00
NESTLE USA, INC. - $1,169,400.00
COCA-COLA NORTH AMERICA - $1,164,400.00
CONAGRA FOODS (owns ALEXIA) - $1,076,700.00
SYNGENTA CORPORATION - $821,300.00
KELLOGG COMPANY - $632,500.00
GENERAL MILLS, INC. (owns LARABAR, MUIR GLEN, NATURE VALLEY, MOUNTAIN HIGH, CASCADIAN FARM, GOOD EARTH) - $519,401.17
HERSHEY COMPANY (owns SCHARFFEN BERGER) - $498,006.72
THE J.M. SMUCKER COMPANY - $388,000.00
COUNCIL FOR BIOTECHNOLOGY INFORMATION - $375,000.00
GROCERY MANUFACTURERS ASSOCIATION - $375,000.00
HORMEL FOODS CORPORATION - $374,300.00
BIMBO BAKERIES USA - $338,300.00
PIONEER HI-BRED INTERNATIONAL, A DUPONT BUSINESS - $310,100.00
OCEAN SPRAY CRANBERRIES, INC. - $301,553.21
PINNACLE FOODS GROUP LLC - $266,100.00
DEAN FOODS COMPANY (dairy production company which owns Horizon, Silk, Lehigh Valley, Shenandoah, PET, Swiss Farms, Dean's Purity, Brown's, Foremost, Oak Farms, Hygeia, McArthur, Meadow Gold, Morning Glory, Jilbert, Meadow Brook, Friendship, Tuscan, Mayfield Dairy Farms, Berkeley Farms, Model Dairy, Alta Dena, Swiss, Robinson Dairy, Creamland, Alpro, International Delight, Land-o-Lakes, and TruMoo) - $253,950.00
BIOTECHNOLOGY INDUSTRY ORGANIZATION - $252,000.00
MCCORMICK & COMPANY, INC. - $248,200.00
WM. WRIGLEY JR. COMPANY - $237,664.90
RICH PRODUCTS CORPORATION - $225,537.15
CARGILL, INC. (OWNS TRUVIA) - $202,229.36
DEL MONTE FOODS COMPANY - $189,974.61
KNOUSE FOODS COOPERATIVE, INC. - $135,831.53
MARS FOOD NORTH AMERICA - $100,242.69
BUMBLE BEE FOODS, LLC - $98,073.62
SUNNY DELIGHT BEVERAGES COMPANY - $96,952.57
SARA LEE CORPORATION - $96,833.22
CAMPBELL SOUP COMPANY - $70,454.91
SOLAE, LLC - $61,207.43
MCCAIN FOODS USA, INC. - $52,295.63
DOLE PACKAGED FOODS COMPANY - $45,580.05
C. H. GUENTHER & SON, INC. - $24,189.18
LAND O'LAKES, INC. - $21,513.78
HERO NORTH AMERICA - $21,044.96
MORTON SALT - $20,957.42
INVENTURE FOODS, INC. - $11,343.80
GODIVA CHOCOLATIER, INC. - $11,121.53
HOUSE-AUTRY MILLS, INC. - $1,077.27
RICHELIEU FOODS, INC. - $165.80
Some of these companies were complete givens (damn, where's Walmart when you need it!) - but who knew how deep some of these companies reached into our definitely of wholesome eating? And granted, while I don't encourage eating of the foods from the middle of the supermarket or from the drive-thru, we don't completely eschew some of these little once-in-a-long-while (i.e., if you can't remember the last time you were in the place + 6 months) snacks. But while we eat this food, just as while we recognize how out-of-norm eating out should be, we do recognize the negative effect the foods have on us. And outside of our kids' continuous pandering for all things colorful, overly sugared, and processed, we typically do not even entertain purchasing these items except in dire emergencies. Like, hurricane's a-comin and we might not get out of it until the next season rolls around kind of emergency.
Take a read, understand what's at stake if we let things just go along their merry way as they have been. There's a lot more than just dollars here. And it could be a huge wake-up call for anyone who has never read a food label on the stuff they're putting into their bodies.
Saturday, August 18, 2012
Polpo. Sweet Polpo.
Ahh. It was a day not unlike today. Sun was shining. Not a cloud in the sky. Light breeze through the leaves in the trees. People walking.
However, it was also a day completely unlike today. There was walking - a LOT of walking. With some crazed/passionate Belgian-cum-Roman archeologist guy named Jan Gadeyne whose legs, I swear, were as long as I was tall (or, at least, he walked that way). The sun was shining all right - and baking us to a crisp. Not a cloud in the sky, and oh how I wished there were a cloud to hide that crisping sun which roasted not just us humans, but the Roman air to about a bajillion degrees. Centigrade. The light breeze was coming through the leaves in the trees all right, but the trees were up on top of a tall mound at Nero's palace, where on Googlemaps they color it green to give you a little bit of hope. And we had just started our walk with Jan at Trajan's market, about a mile and a bit away, downhill of the Domus.
Baby1 was about one and a bit, and every bit as fussy as I felt about the heat. She was riding in her stroller, which gave her something equivalent in cover to a clamshell's cover of its innards, but was difficult to navigate through the bumps and lumps of the Roman sidewalks and stairs through the ancient areas. And we were trying to keep up with Jan and his mile-long legs while he rattled off just a smidgen of trivia from his deep mental database of all the ancient history of the landscape we traversed, some little tidbit to try to drill into our heat-baked heads the depth of every step through some passage of time in the city's extensive history.
Did I forget to mention, how hot as heck it was that day? I think mentally I kept trying to squash Gadeyne's legs to be as short as mine. For, you know, an ounce of empathetic pity.
So at the end of our walk that morning, with all the heat and deer-in-headlights blind headstrong following of Jan and our traveling professors with the UMD abroad crew, Professor Michael Ambrose suggested that perhaps today would be a lovely day for octopus salad. I didn't really care as to what it was - anything that sounded remotely cooling would be great. And if it had some lemon to really help with the cooling down process, hey, all the better. I was totally game.
Hubby and the teaching crew headed to Pizza Re, just off Sant Andrea della Valle. I needed to go change to be somewhat decent for lunch, as I think I was a drenching pile of sweat at that point leaving puddles like a trail of breadcrumbs on the Roman sidewalk as I walked. Post-change, Baby1 and I headed back down Corso Vittoro Emmanuele towards the restaurant, which, thankfully, was in the shade. Oh cover, how I loved you that particular day.
The guys had already ordered one insalata di polpo to start while they were waiting for us, and I followed suit. What I had was simply amazing, and illustrated this balance of cold for the hot in the city. As my body caught up with the joy of the moment, I promised myself I would enjoy this salad as much as I could here in Italy, as I knew somewhat that I would not be able to find something like this back home. And as Hubby and my endless pursuit of finding this salad stateside ever since, prepared just the way we remembered, has attested: my assumption was correct.
As with most items I find I can not find stateside, flavors that can somehow just not be duplicated, I've taken the matter into my own hands. A couple of items that have been on my target list: the hot/sweet sauce served on oyster pancakes in the night markets of Taipei that I can practically taste on my tongue, but I've yet to find a duplicate for it in endless jars of single-spoon-tried and discarded self-described "Taiwanese" sweet/spicy sauces this side of the Pacific; and the Roman Insalata di Polpo. The latter has actually proven to be a little easier than the former.
First was my pursuit of being able to cook octopus to just the texture I had in Italy (or at numerous restaurants stateside, which, despite their inability to duplicate my beloved insalata, still cooked octopus to just the right texture. most of the time, restaurants grilled the octopus, which did a quick-cook to be able to keep the texture right.). A couple of my first attempts were visibly protested by live octopus, who poo-pooed my kitchen attempts as laughable (I believe they may even have made some video-gone-viral on CephaTube of how tough my first octopi were). But I think I've gotten the process down now, and the octopus are now draining of color when they see me at the market. And guess what: it's so EASY.
Screw all those techniques I've tried online about dunking the octopus this way or that, whacking the benoggins out of the cephalopod, cooking with some crazy-ass bobbing cork, or what magic some dinky bay leaf will do to tenderize this creature. Keep in mind - its suckers and meat will soak up water around it, just as they are made also of water. It's, I guess, the way octopi live in the ocean, and like many true-to-roots dishes involving meat, if prepared in complement with the way it lived, the result will taste just right (think ducks with fruits and nuts, wild game with nuts and wild greens, beef with whole grains and field greens, simply salted fish, sashimi).
Polpo(ctopus) Preparation
Ingredients
Octopus, whole
Pot, with nary a shade of water at the bottom
Salt, generous helping (think, equate to the ocean's proportions)
Lemon, sliced or wedged (just for flavor)
Directions
1. Lightly rinse off the whole octopus (quick spray of water will do, just to wash any grime from the market off).
2. Mix salt with the water in the pot. Keep in mind - this should be just enough to STEAM the octopus. Usually I have no more than about 1/2" of water in the pot.
3. Add lemon to the saltwater mixture.
4. Place rinsed octopus in the pot. Turn to drench a bit with the salted water.
5. Bring water to a boil, and keep at boil until most, if not all, of the octopus is no-longer slimy looking and non-translucent.
6. Reduce water to lowest heat, and let steam covered for 45 minutes+ (last night, whole octopus, I fell asleep and didn't turn off the octopus at this lowest steam setting for 2 hours). You'd be amazed how much water the octopus gives up.
7. Turn off the steaming water, and let the pot cool COVERED to room temperature. It's now ready to cut/serve/eat.
At this point, some people keep the fat on the outside of the octopus on. I prefer not to eat this layer, so I take the octopus to the sink, give it another quick rinse, and clean off the layer with my hands. Granted, you'll lose the suckers off the legs, but it also makes eating a little smoother without the gelatinous mass on the meat. Word of caution: if you're queasy about touching something slimy like gelatin, this may not be the best process for your bare hands and your psyche (not to mention your stomach). For the sake of your esophagus, use some disposable gloves.
Of last night's cooking expedition, I've sliced mine into 1" slices, mixed with lemon/olive oil/salt/pepper, and the mixture is marinating a bit in the fridge. The octopus, sans dressing, could taste a bit bland. Like chicken. To try to mimic what I had in Rome, I plan to mix the octopus with sliced cherry tomatoes, mozzarella, celery, and fresh parsley. At this point, I at least have the texture of the octopus down - the flavor of the salad will no doubt take some tweeking - but I will eventually get it right.
Rome, you're on my dinner plate tonight.
However, it was also a day completely unlike today. There was walking - a LOT of walking. With some crazed/passionate Belgian-cum-Roman archeologist guy named Jan Gadeyne whose legs, I swear, were as long as I was tall (or, at least, he walked that way). The sun was shining all right - and baking us to a crisp. Not a cloud in the sky, and oh how I wished there were a cloud to hide that crisping sun which roasted not just us humans, but the Roman air to about a bajillion degrees. Centigrade. The light breeze was coming through the leaves in the trees all right, but the trees were up on top of a tall mound at Nero's palace, where on Googlemaps they color it green to give you a little bit of hope. And we had just started our walk with Jan at Trajan's market, about a mile and a bit away, downhill of the Domus.
Baby1 was about one and a bit, and every bit as fussy as I felt about the heat. She was riding in her stroller, which gave her something equivalent in cover to a clamshell's cover of its innards, but was difficult to navigate through the bumps and lumps of the Roman sidewalks and stairs through the ancient areas. And we were trying to keep up with Jan and his mile-long legs while he rattled off just a smidgen of trivia from his deep mental database of all the ancient history of the landscape we traversed, some little tidbit to try to drill into our heat-baked heads the depth of every step through some passage of time in the city's extensive history.
Did I forget to mention, how hot as heck it was that day? I think mentally I kept trying to squash Gadeyne's legs to be as short as mine. For, you know, an ounce of empathetic pity.
So at the end of our walk that morning, with all the heat and deer-in-headlights blind headstrong following of Jan and our traveling professors with the UMD abroad crew, Professor Michael Ambrose suggested that perhaps today would be a lovely day for octopus salad. I didn't really care as to what it was - anything that sounded remotely cooling would be great. And if it had some lemon to really help with the cooling down process, hey, all the better. I was totally game.
Hubby and the teaching crew headed to Pizza Re, just off Sant Andrea della Valle. I needed to go change to be somewhat decent for lunch, as I think I was a drenching pile of sweat at that point leaving puddles like a trail of breadcrumbs on the Roman sidewalk as I walked. Post-change, Baby1 and I headed back down Corso Vittoro Emmanuele towards the restaurant, which, thankfully, was in the shade. Oh cover, how I loved you that particular day.
The guys had already ordered one insalata di polpo to start while they were waiting for us, and I followed suit. What I had was simply amazing, and illustrated this balance of cold for the hot in the city. As my body caught up with the joy of the moment, I promised myself I would enjoy this salad as much as I could here in Italy, as I knew somewhat that I would not be able to find something like this back home. And as Hubby and my endless pursuit of finding this salad stateside ever since, prepared just the way we remembered, has attested: my assumption was correct.As with most items I find I can not find stateside, flavors that can somehow just not be duplicated, I've taken the matter into my own hands. A couple of items that have been on my target list: the hot/sweet sauce served on oyster pancakes in the night markets of Taipei that I can practically taste on my tongue, but I've yet to find a duplicate for it in endless jars of single-spoon-tried and discarded self-described "Taiwanese" sweet/spicy sauces this side of the Pacific; and the Roman Insalata di Polpo. The latter has actually proven to be a little easier than the former.
First was my pursuit of being able to cook octopus to just the texture I had in Italy (or at numerous restaurants stateside, which, despite their inability to duplicate my beloved insalata, still cooked octopus to just the right texture. most of the time, restaurants grilled the octopus, which did a quick-cook to be able to keep the texture right.). A couple of my first attempts were visibly protested by live octopus, who poo-pooed my kitchen attempts as laughable (I believe they may even have made some video-gone-viral on CephaTube of how tough my first octopi were). But I think I've gotten the process down now, and the octopus are now draining of color when they see me at the market. And guess what: it's so EASY.
Screw all those techniques I've tried online about dunking the octopus this way or that, whacking the benoggins out of the cephalopod, cooking with some crazy-ass bobbing cork, or what magic some dinky bay leaf will do to tenderize this creature. Keep in mind - its suckers and meat will soak up water around it, just as they are made also of water. It's, I guess, the way octopi live in the ocean, and like many true-to-roots dishes involving meat, if prepared in complement with the way it lived, the result will taste just right (think ducks with fruits and nuts, wild game with nuts and wild greens, beef with whole grains and field greens, simply salted fish, sashimi).
Polpo(ctopus) Preparation
Ingredients
Octopus, whole
Pot, with nary a shade of water at the bottom
Salt, generous helping (think, equate to the ocean's proportions)
Lemon, sliced or wedged (just for flavor)
Directions
1. Lightly rinse off the whole octopus (quick spray of water will do, just to wash any grime from the market off).2. Mix salt with the water in the pot. Keep in mind - this should be just enough to STEAM the octopus. Usually I have no more than about 1/2" of water in the pot.
3. Add lemon to the saltwater mixture.
4. Place rinsed octopus in the pot. Turn to drench a bit with the salted water.
5. Bring water to a boil, and keep at boil until most, if not all, of the octopus is no-longer slimy looking and non-translucent.
6. Reduce water to lowest heat, and let steam covered for 45 minutes+ (last night, whole octopus, I fell asleep and didn't turn off the octopus at this lowest steam setting for 2 hours). You'd be amazed how much water the octopus gives up.
7. Turn off the steaming water, and let the pot cool COVERED to room temperature. It's now ready to cut/serve/eat.
At this point, some people keep the fat on the outside of the octopus on. I prefer not to eat this layer, so I take the octopus to the sink, give it another quick rinse, and clean off the layer with my hands. Granted, you'll lose the suckers off the legs, but it also makes eating a little smoother without the gelatinous mass on the meat. Word of caution: if you're queasy about touching something slimy like gelatin, this may not be the best process for your bare hands and your psyche (not to mention your stomach). For the sake of your esophagus, use some disposable gloves.
Of last night's cooking expedition, I've sliced mine into 1" slices, mixed with lemon/olive oil/salt/pepper, and the mixture is marinating a bit in the fridge. The octopus, sans dressing, could taste a bit bland. Like chicken. To try to mimic what I had in Rome, I plan to mix the octopus with sliced cherry tomatoes, mozzarella, celery, and fresh parsley. At this point, I at least have the texture of the octopus down - the flavor of the salad will no doubt take some tweeking - but I will eventually get it right.
Rome, you're on my dinner plate tonight.
It's a WHAT?! world after all
I feel like I'm writing an entry to my teenage diary. Except, that the problems I will describe are a lot more complex, the characters that line the stage are a lot stranger, and the scene for all the action is one that we would never expect to find problems at any level. And I mean any.
So just about a month ago, the family traveled to DisneyWorld. Hubby and I were looking forward to this trip immensely, with built-up memories of trips taken during our childhood lining our expectations like snack crumbs to the back seat of my car. We amped up the anticipation for the kids by introducing 6 pink flamingos that, one by one, "visited" our front yard 12 days before departure, and departed one by one until the day we departed. We got t-shirts with Mickey and Minnie on them, and gave ourselves fun names on these shirts. We got Mickey water bottles, sunscreen, clothes packed enough to allow at least 2 changes of clothing a day, anticipating the heat we'd hit when we got to Florida.
We got there, and the excitement was not unequal to the scenery of the whole World before our eyes. Going through the gates of Disney World, seeing the Mickey and Minnie topiary that first day, our kids' eyes were the wide with anticipation. The heat, yes, was there - but we could navigate it. We had meals all lined up, so that we wouldn't be stuck with the problems of having the same hot dogs night after night in exhausted frustration. We expected the Disney utopia to envelope us, from the moment we set foot off the plane until the moment we came back onto the plane to go home. It was to be a full-on, all-out, Disney-to-the-nines experience.
The parks were great. The staff was great. The characters (bless their heat-laden costumed hearts) were great. The heat - well, what'dya expect in July, in Florida, in a world of asphalt? The food...
Now, I knew going there that the kids' food would be geared towards a status quo, and I did not expect to see a chef-whipped 2-pager everywhere we went. I didn't expect to see foie (ha!) as one of the optional sides, alongside seared whatever and lightly-dressed baby field greens (double, triple ha!). I didn't expect to see more options outside of the usual dogs/nuggets/grilled cheese/cheeseburgers/mac and cheese. The sides were a great balance though - apple slices, carrots, and they kept the fries optional. And Epcot Center was definitely the place to go for such a great range of options for little ones to try foods outside of the usual line-up (udon, tacos, salmon, fish and chips, even sneak in a little shawarma).
But - what I really did not expect to see, was that a regular-sized beverage at any counter would be, basically, a liter-sized container. Most of the places were all-you-can-eat. The first thing offered when you sit down to eat at most of the places was their special (sugar-laiden) pomegranate lemonade, not water. Couple these factors with the number of overweight children I saw walking slowly through the parks (granted, yes, it's damn hot), with liter-sized fountain drink in hand (my assumptions take over here that these were fountain drinks of soda, not water), overweight parents not far behind in scooters (you wanted a kid, but would then sacrifice your level of energy to keep up with them AND their health in turn?) - left me, quite frankly, sick to my stomach.
Searching through my memory database, I didn't remember so many children being overweight. Not at Disney World. This was supposed to be the utopian world formed by one man's vision, enjoyed by the world over, right? Maybe my version of utopia is screwed up, but somehow it was filled with people who were active, kids who looked like kids and had energy like kids - and not sized the width of *overweight* 20/30somethings with a geriatric energy level sipping some level of liquid energy to help them take that next step. Sick to my stomach and sad, alas - I realized, at least, where I did NOT want my kids to end up in their health. Here's to hoping.
So just about a month ago, the family traveled to DisneyWorld. Hubby and I were looking forward to this trip immensely, with built-up memories of trips taken during our childhood lining our expectations like snack crumbs to the back seat of my car. We amped up the anticipation for the kids by introducing 6 pink flamingos that, one by one, "visited" our front yard 12 days before departure, and departed one by one until the day we departed. We got t-shirts with Mickey and Minnie on them, and gave ourselves fun names on these shirts. We got Mickey water bottles, sunscreen, clothes packed enough to allow at least 2 changes of clothing a day, anticipating the heat we'd hit when we got to Florida.
We got there, and the excitement was not unequal to the scenery of the whole World before our eyes. Going through the gates of Disney World, seeing the Mickey and Minnie topiary that first day, our kids' eyes were the wide with anticipation. The heat, yes, was there - but we could navigate it. We had meals all lined up, so that we wouldn't be stuck with the problems of having the same hot dogs night after night in exhausted frustration. We expected the Disney utopia to envelope us, from the moment we set foot off the plane until the moment we came back onto the plane to go home. It was to be a full-on, all-out, Disney-to-the-nines experience.
The parks were great. The staff was great. The characters (bless their heat-laden costumed hearts) were great. The heat - well, what'dya expect in July, in Florida, in a world of asphalt? The food...
Now, I knew going there that the kids' food would be geared towards a status quo, and I did not expect to see a chef-whipped 2-pager everywhere we went. I didn't expect to see foie (ha!) as one of the optional sides, alongside seared whatever and lightly-dressed baby field greens (double, triple ha!). I didn't expect to see more options outside of the usual dogs/nuggets/grilled cheese/cheeseburgers/mac and cheese. The sides were a great balance though - apple slices, carrots, and they kept the fries optional. And Epcot Center was definitely the place to go for such a great range of options for little ones to try foods outside of the usual line-up (udon, tacos, salmon, fish and chips, even sneak in a little shawarma).
But - what I really did not expect to see, was that a regular-sized beverage at any counter would be, basically, a liter-sized container. Most of the places were all-you-can-eat. The first thing offered when you sit down to eat at most of the places was their special (sugar-laiden) pomegranate lemonade, not water. Couple these factors with the number of overweight children I saw walking slowly through the parks (granted, yes, it's damn hot), with liter-sized fountain drink in hand (my assumptions take over here that these were fountain drinks of soda, not water), overweight parents not far behind in scooters (you wanted a kid, but would then sacrifice your level of energy to keep up with them AND their health in turn?) - left me, quite frankly, sick to my stomach.
Searching through my memory database, I didn't remember so many children being overweight. Not at Disney World. This was supposed to be the utopian world formed by one man's vision, enjoyed by the world over, right? Maybe my version of utopia is screwed up, but somehow it was filled with people who were active, kids who looked like kids and had energy like kids - and not sized the width of *overweight* 20/30somethings with a geriatric energy level sipping some level of liquid energy to help them take that next step. Sick to my stomach and sad, alas - I realized, at least, where I did NOT want my kids to end up in their health. Here's to hoping.
Monday, April 23, 2012
Au vin, au vin, tout au vin
I know it's the end of April. And yet, these April showers are coming with strong winter's chill on their backs, blowing the last gasp of dry air at us while sinking its teeth into my bones. It's cold. It really is. And the rain, especially this kind of cold rain, always makes me reminisce. (I miss you Seattle!)
So tonight, while trying to figure out what in the world I'm going to serve to the kiddies, I looked in my just-stocked freezer and decided to start with 4 boneless chicken thighs. Opening up the fridge side, I spied an opened-last-week bottle of Malbec beckoning to me. It last made an appearance to deglaze the pan after I seared some steaks with peppercorn and was pining for some attention. Some celery in the veggie drawer, and a stack of carrots. Looked out my front door, and our freshly-burnt (lack of rain) rosemary asked to be thrown into something delicious and savory just to be able to feel alive, and my overgrown thyme strained its neck to be added to the pot to kick things around a bit.
Oh, shush now don't you worry - you'll all go into dinner all right. I knew I wanted to serve something hearty - but not heavy - and light - but not the kind of light that recalls fresh spring days. Even the kids loved it - enough that what's left for Hubby by the time he gets home is mostly just carotte au vin. Damn.
The recipe is great to cook up on the stove on a night like tonight, when all you want to do is just cuddle up with a couple of snugglebear kids, hide under a blanket, and just chill - rather than slave in front of the stove all night long. I served this alongside a great mix of quinoa with long grain white, brown, and wild rice.
...as usual, i measured nothing. you'll know when the proportions are right - you get a great brown sauce. remember this key: the title reads coq and the vin. everyone else plays supporting roles to these two central ingredients...
Coq au vin
Ingredients
- Chicken (I used 4 thighs, but you can use which ever chicken parts you'd like. Just have enough to serve, and then some - otherwise you'll be left with just carottes too.)
- Red wine (I used a Malbec)
- Garlic (6 cloves tonight, lightly crushed with the side of my knife)
- Onion, coarse chop (1/2 of a red onion tonight)
- Carrots
- Celery (light hand - celery can really overpower a dish if used in large doses)
- Dried mushrooms (you can use fresh too - just slice thin. Use just enough to help flavor the dish.)
- Olive oil (about 2T)
- Rosemary, 1 sprig
- Thyme, about 1T
- Parsley, about 1T
- Salt
- Black pepper
Directions
1. Season chicken parts generously with salt and pepper. Marinate chicken, whole, in enough red wine to cover. While the chicken's sitting in the wine...
2. Soak dry mushrooms in a bit of warm water to reconstitute and soften. OR - slice up your fresh mushrooms of choice.
3. Crush the garlic and coarsely chop the onions, carrots, and celery.
4. In a medium-size pot (I used a 6-qt casserole pot), add olive oil and churn up the heat to medium.
5. Once oil is warmed, add garlic and onion and stir well to coat. Take care not to burn the garlic; otherwise, your dish will end up with bitter overtones. Once onion has softened, add carrots and celery. Stir well to coat all ingredients with olive oil.
6. Add mushrooms and reconstituting water. If using fresh mushrooms, add about 3/4 cup of water.
7. Add the herbs, and bring the mixture to a gentle simmer.
8. Add chicken pieces and wine marinade, and ladle some of the sauce in the pot onto the chicken pieces. Turn heat to medium/medium-low, and allow to gently simmer for about 30 minutes. Check on the chicken every so often to make sure it's cooking - and make sure to dunk the chicken part-way through the cooking process into the sauce to coat and allow flavors to all meld together.
9. Once the sauce browns, that's just about when the dish is ready. Enjoy alongside a starch (try potatoes, rice, even just some bread - just have something that will soak up the juices), perhaps with a corresponding glass of red!
Cheers!
So tonight, while trying to figure out what in the world I'm going to serve to the kiddies, I looked in my just-stocked freezer and decided to start with 4 boneless chicken thighs. Opening up the fridge side, I spied an opened-last-week bottle of Malbec beckoning to me. It last made an appearance to deglaze the pan after I seared some steaks with peppercorn and was pining for some attention. Some celery in the veggie drawer, and a stack of carrots. Looked out my front door, and our freshly-burnt (lack of rain) rosemary asked to be thrown into something delicious and savory just to be able to feel alive, and my overgrown thyme strained its neck to be added to the pot to kick things around a bit.Oh, shush now don't you worry - you'll all go into dinner all right. I knew I wanted to serve something hearty - but not heavy - and light - but not the kind of light that recalls fresh spring days. Even the kids loved it - enough that what's left for Hubby by the time he gets home is mostly just carotte au vin. Damn.
The recipe is great to cook up on the stove on a night like tonight, when all you want to do is just cuddle up with a couple of snugglebear kids, hide under a blanket, and just chill - rather than slave in front of the stove all night long. I served this alongside a great mix of quinoa with long grain white, brown, and wild rice.
...as usual, i measured nothing. you'll know when the proportions are right - you get a great brown sauce. remember this key: the title reads coq and the vin. everyone else plays supporting roles to these two central ingredients...
Coq au vin
Ingredients
- Chicken (I used 4 thighs, but you can use which ever chicken parts you'd like. Just have enough to serve, and then some - otherwise you'll be left with just carottes too.)
- Red wine (I used a Malbec)
- Garlic (6 cloves tonight, lightly crushed with the side of my knife)
- Onion, coarse chop (1/2 of a red onion tonight)
- Carrots
- Celery (light hand - celery can really overpower a dish if used in large doses)
- Dried mushrooms (you can use fresh too - just slice thin. Use just enough to help flavor the dish.)
- Olive oil (about 2T)
- Rosemary, 1 sprig
- Thyme, about 1T
- Parsley, about 1T
- Salt
- Black pepper
Directions
1. Season chicken parts generously with salt and pepper. Marinate chicken, whole, in enough red wine to cover. While the chicken's sitting in the wine...
2. Soak dry mushrooms in a bit of warm water to reconstitute and soften. OR - slice up your fresh mushrooms of choice.
3. Crush the garlic and coarsely chop the onions, carrots, and celery.
4. In a medium-size pot (I used a 6-qt casserole pot), add olive oil and churn up the heat to medium.
5. Once oil is warmed, add garlic and onion and stir well to coat. Take care not to burn the garlic; otherwise, your dish will end up with bitter overtones. Once onion has softened, add carrots and celery. Stir well to coat all ingredients with olive oil.
6. Add mushrooms and reconstituting water. If using fresh mushrooms, add about 3/4 cup of water.
7. Add the herbs, and bring the mixture to a gentle simmer.
8. Add chicken pieces and wine marinade, and ladle some of the sauce in the pot onto the chicken pieces. Turn heat to medium/medium-low, and allow to gently simmer for about 30 minutes. Check on the chicken every so often to make sure it's cooking - and make sure to dunk the chicken part-way through the cooking process into the sauce to coat and allow flavors to all meld together.
9. Once the sauce browns, that's just about when the dish is ready. Enjoy alongside a starch (try potatoes, rice, even just some bread - just have something that will soak up the juices), perhaps with a corresponding glass of red!
Cheers!
Sunday, December 18, 2011
Basics. (part 2) Mustard
As far as sauces go, there are few instances I can recall when I would pass up a good mustard. Eggs? Sure. Dogs? Definitely. Chicken? Beef? Pork? Seafood? Vegetables? You bet. On a cracker, or on some bread? Why not. Right off a spoon? Now you're talkin'!
Not only does mustard, especially the whole-grain variety (save the bright yellow for Wawa pretzels on the go), twist up flavors to give some sour and smoky tones, I've used it as an ingredient in other sauces. As a stand-alone or as an aid, mustard is one of my palate's favorite treats.
Never mind, the fact that most days I have no less than 4 or 5 different varieties of mustard in my fridge. Except, when I opened the fridge and discovered this past weekend, that I was down to just one measly bottle of the the sunny yellow variety. *Sigh* And to think I was going to gobble up some mustard like it was yogurt. *Sigh, oh double triple sigh*
If you've ever looked at the ingredient list on any whole-grain mustard, you'll find that it's so basic it's criminal. I'm sure most of the time when I'm paying for mustard, I am paying mostly for the jar and the labor, in that order. The ingredients list is so consistently short, with 2 basic ingredients that just about every mustard has. I tried it for the first time this afternoon, amidst the hustle and bustle of getting our house ready for the holidays next week.
This first experiment, I'm using the mustard seeds whole (not ground), and I'm going to let the liquid break down the seeds a bit for me. I added some fennel and cumin seeds, a touch of salt, and I'm planning to add a touch of agave tomorrow evening to help temper the spiciness. We'll see how it goes.
Basic Mustard
Mustard seeds (use a combination of brown and yellow)
Vinegar (try any variety of vinegar, wine, or beer)
1. Place mustard seeds in a sterilized jar.
2. Cover with vinegar until just to the top of the seeds.
3. About an hour later, check on the mustard seeds. If it needs more vinegar to keep the seeds covered, add more vinegar.
4. Let steep overnight.
5. Enjoy.
If you like it spicy, keep the jar cool and use cool liquid. If you'd like it milder, heat up the mixture on the stove first to help soften the flavor in the seeds, let cool, and the jar and fridge. From this basic recipe, the sky's the limit on variations of additives: dried fruit, fruit rind, wines, different types of sweeteners, herbs, other spices, peppercorns, the list goes on. And for smoother texture, just grind the seeds with a mortar and pestle before mixing with the acid.
Not only does mustard, especially the whole-grain variety (save the bright yellow for Wawa pretzels on the go), twist up flavors to give some sour and smoky tones, I've used it as an ingredient in other sauces. As a stand-alone or as an aid, mustard is one of my palate's favorite treats.
Never mind, the fact that most days I have no less than 4 or 5 different varieties of mustard in my fridge. Except, when I opened the fridge and discovered this past weekend, that I was down to just one measly bottle of the the sunny yellow variety. *Sigh* And to think I was going to gobble up some mustard like it was yogurt. *Sigh, oh double triple sigh*
If you've ever looked at the ingredient list on any whole-grain mustard, you'll find that it's so basic it's criminal. I'm sure most of the time when I'm paying for mustard, I am paying mostly for the jar and the labor, in that order. The ingredients list is so consistently short, with 2 basic ingredients that just about every mustard has. I tried it for the first time this afternoon, amidst the hustle and bustle of getting our house ready for the holidays next week.This first experiment, I'm using the mustard seeds whole (not ground), and I'm going to let the liquid break down the seeds a bit for me. I added some fennel and cumin seeds, a touch of salt, and I'm planning to add a touch of agave tomorrow evening to help temper the spiciness. We'll see how it goes.
Basic Mustard
Mustard seeds (use a combination of brown and yellow)
Vinegar (try any variety of vinegar, wine, or beer)
1. Place mustard seeds in a sterilized jar.
2. Cover with vinegar until just to the top of the seeds.
3. About an hour later, check on the mustard seeds. If it needs more vinegar to keep the seeds covered, add more vinegar.
4. Let steep overnight.
5. Enjoy.
If you like it spicy, keep the jar cool and use cool liquid. If you'd like it milder, heat up the mixture on the stove first to help soften the flavor in the seeds, let cool, and the jar and fridge. From this basic recipe, the sky's the limit on variations of additives: dried fruit, fruit rind, wines, different types of sweeteners, herbs, other spices, peppercorns, the list goes on. And for smoother texture, just grind the seeds with a mortar and pestle before mixing with the acid.
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Basics. (part 1) 2-2-1 Hollandaise
Sometimes, it takes that physical trip away from familiarity, to bring the pendulum back to center. And the exposure to the big and the small, the broad and the narrow, the full spectrum and the minutiae - traversed in steps across the familiar but in new shoes - I'm still reflecting. But one thing I know:There are no accidents.
Take our walk in Armstrong Redwoods SNR the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. I didn't realize that I dropped my driver's license out of my pocket near the top of the East Ridge Trail, while Theo and I were walking our little pace, to get my phone to text our friends ahead of us that we were not far behind them, and that we were hooking right at the fork in the trail. Then somewhere along the Armstrong Nature Trail at the bottom of the hill some 1.5+ miles later, on our way back to the visitors' center and parking lot, a guy comes walking towards me and hands me my license.
What are the chances?
Like it should be any surprise that this forest would be where human support of one another should take place, where I should find a recentering. It was a striking moment, when we were surrounded by giants and wisdom older than all our collective ages combined, and I felt the sudden jarring of the closing of one of my life circles. One path ended, and my life took a turn in the fork of the life road. I'm not sure where the road will take me, but I have faith and will blindly follow.So as my life pendulum starts swinging again, I tip my hat to the circles that make up my life and go back to some basics that bring a bit of heaven to the kitchen every day. The morning before we left for California, I made some poached eggs for the family and had a hunkering for hollandaise. Not difficult, not terribly time-consuming, and it does give just about any base flavor a little kick and swagger. Use the basic proportions, and increase or decrease accordingly. And of recent, I lopped some on asparagus. Perfectly yum.
(the poached eggs, I used one of those poached egg pans, steamed in a larger pot. works perfectly each time. some things, I'm eternally grateful for design and technology to come together and make a process that much easier.)
(covers 3 eggs, a grabful of asparagus, or 4 large potatoes served any which way)
Ingredients
2 egg yolks (I use my hands to get the yolk)
2 oz butter, cut into small pieces
1T whole milk, cream, or half and half
Squeeze of 1/2 lemon
A hint of spice (I used Indian chili powder)
A pinch of salt (use Kosher. less needed than granulated)
Tools
Double boiler (or just have a metal bowl on top of a deeper pot, with just enough water in the pot to create steam for the process without letting the water touch the bottom of the bowl)
Whisk
Water for steaming
1. Place pot with water on the stovetop. Cover the top with your metal bowl, with egg yolks and butter inside. Turn up the heat on the water - you want the water to be gently simmering by the end of the process, not boiling. Boiling the water gives you too much of a risk of scrambling the eggs, separating the butter, and having to start all over again.
2. As soon as the butter begins to melt, start whisking to mix together the egg yolks and butter. Whisk until smooth. Don't worry if it looks like it's curdling. Turn down the heat, and just keep whisking
3. Add milk, and whisk until smooth.
4. Take mixture off the heat, and add the remaining ingredients to taste.
5. Dollop a spoonful on eggs/asparagus/bread/potatoes/fish/just about anything with a non-acidic taste. (or do like I almost did that morning, and enjoy it with just a spoon) The sauce also gets a boost of freshness by adding fresh green herbs. I tried scallions tonight, and it was heavenly.
Saturday, September 24, 2011
Little pockets of joy
 |
| (oops - this scone collapsed because I cut it too tall!) |
Does this word elicit fear and dread, of bricks turned as heavy and dense as building material? Ever think that scones can't march past the borders of sweet dried fruits, or that they are simply fruitcakes with a different color? Do you find that eating a scone usually means you ingest about a stick of butter, or a jar of clotted cream, to coat each bite just to give it some flavor?
Then come with me on a little journey, to some textural and palate-ial satisfaction. This morning, a bake sale to accompany the magic show taking place at the kids' preschool called on me to put on the baker's hat. I sent in some savory scones to stand alongside the sweet bites on the table, and they did not disappoint. As my friend Jess would attest, the recipe for scones that we both follow (from Cook's Illustrated "Best Recipes" cookbook) can be completed from beginning to end within about 30 minutes. The recipe has become one of my standbys for a quick delicious treat, and I do make it often, both savory and sweet.
Make sure to have your ingredients lined up - and before you know it, you'll be churning out delicious scones with ease and flare, adding your own ideas for flavorants, and your house will smell delectable. And - they won't be bricks.
Keep in mind the following tips as you make scones, as the process is combination of those for making cakes and making pie crusts:
1. Like cake mixing, mix the dry ingredients first, followed by addition of the fat and wet ingredients. I usually keep a recipe's worth of a batch in the pantry on hand to cut down some of the production time and to make scones on a moment's (or the kids' or Hubby's, whichever comes first) whim.
2. A food processor is particularly helpful, to both ease the mixing process and to help distribute the butter through the flour evenly (this is also the method I use for making pie crust). Pulse the mix/food process setting on the food processor, so that you don't overheat the mixing and run the risk of melting the butter.
3. Mix the ingredients the way you would to make a flaky pie crust: coat small butter particles with flour, and don't overmix. Keep the ingredients cold, particularly the butter and the cream, so that you don't make a homogenous block that turns into a brick. If you start melting a good deal of the butter by overmixing the ingredients in the food processor, you'll end up releasing the water in the butter. Water will bind to the flour, and you'll end up with a greasy, dense, heavy mess that will not hold together and will not yield light, fluffy scones. The key here is to keep the butter particles intact, and not let them melt, so that they will do the melting in the oven where they will create little pockets in your scones - and yield light flakiness.
4. If you're making the scones on a countertop, a bench scraper will be invaluable to not only clean up your counter surface, but it will help you scrape together last scone bits left from the cutting process to make just one more scone at the end of the cutting process (so that your warm hands don't end up melting the worked-over dough into a dense brick).
So keep some space in the refrigerator, grab a food processor, and get ready to enjoy some most excellent scones (and wonderful aroma throughout the the house).
Cream Scones
Ingredients:
2c flour
1T baking powder
3T sugar
1/2t salt
5T butter, cut into pea-sized pieces
1c heavy cream
Flavorants used in this morning's first (!) batch (we came home and made another batch, with parmesan, mozzarella, chives, and ham)
1c total cheddar and monterey jack cheese
3T fresh chives, finely chopped
Baking sheet
Parchment paper
1.5" to 3" biscuit cutter
Method:1. Preheat oven to 430. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper.
2. Mix together in the food processor the dry ingredients.
3. Place flavorants in a large bowl. Keep in the fridge if you'd like.
4. Dot the butter on top of the dry ingredients. Pulse about 5 times, 2-3 seconds per pulse, until the mixture resembles cornmeal.
5. Add the heavy cream to the food processor. Mix until just combined. The dough will be sticky.
6. Add the dough to flavorants bowl, and mix well as best you can with a spatula. If the fixture is too heavy to mix with a spatula, mix by hand to finish the mixing process, folding the dough on itself about 4-5 times to help build layers and to make sure the flavorants are well mixed into the dough.
7. Press dough into a round 1" thick if you're making small scones (about 1.5"-2" diameter), or about 1.5" thick if you're making big scones (about 2"-3" diameter) or leaving as wedges cut from the dough round. Scrape up the round onto parchment paper, wrap. Let rest in the fridge about 10 minutes.
6. Bring out the chilled dough round, and use the biscuit cutter to cut round scones. Set 1.5" apart on the baking sheet. (Alternatively, leave the dough round, and score wedges from the round).7. Bake immediately in the preheated oven, about 10 minutes for small scones, 12 minutes for large scones, or 15 minutes for the large dough round of wedges, until browned on top.
8. Once baking is done, let scones cool about 10-15 minutes on the tray before eating.
I've read that you can make this recipe ahead of time, even up to the point where you are letting the dough round chill in the fridge, and let it rest overnight for fast processing in the morning in time for breakfast. I've not yet done this, as this recipe is fast enough to be able to let us have scones *almost* immediately in the morning - but I do plan to try it sometime to see if the baking powder decreases in its ability to let these scones rise.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
The Flavorcentric Menu
So after my 4:30 in the morning revelation late this week of executing my theory to the (small) masses, I devised the menu for our Saturday evening's experimental dinner:
Exposition: Salt/pepper crackers with three cheeses, sweet cucumbers, and (surprise guest!) pork/chicken pate. Pairing: berry infused vodka martini.
Rise: Fried green tomatoes and eggplant, with blueberry aioli. Pairing: Sauvigion Blanc.
Climax: Roasted pork with coffee marinade, alongside (originally) tomato pasta (which became) red wine pasta with sage/lemongrass foam. Pairing: Schioppettino / Tempranillo.
Fall: Caesar salad with charcuterie. Pairing: Tempranillo.
Denouement: Duo of sweets (black forest cake and sweet potato cheesecake). Pairing: coffee, Puerto Rican rum .
There were several courses, which cumulatively added up to quite a bit of quantity. However, each course individually was not overly quantitative - but instead strove to hit all the parts of the range of flavors. Of particular note...
...Andrew (gracious thanks, as always!!) for all his help in the kitchen. I would probably have stopped at course 2 if not for his help. And Hubby, for helping to put together our vodka drink starter of the evening. Mmmm...
...the wines. And - of particular note - I can't say too much about the Sauvignon Blanc, as I understand that one can not purchase it in the States, but - the SB this evening was lovely. Smelled like lychee at the nose, lightly sweet and a touch of grass on the palate.
...home made crackers. Eeeeeeeeasy! And fun! But - definitely time consuming to roll out all the dough, cut, and lay on the stone. Imagine making 12 pizzas a night.
...the pork in the coffee marinade came out pretty well, with the exception being that there was not enough capascum hit to the palate (which we covered with having the chili powder at the table for service);
...the blueberry aioli which this morning I thought was as solid as cured concrete, but which I discovered yielded quite well and had good texture with application of the immersion blender;
...and the sweets, which was my first experiment in working with chocolate, but yielded a major FAIL in experimenting with a combination of cherry juice+sodium alginate+sodium citrate+sugar in calcium lactate solution. Another time, perhaps more sodium citrate and a little less acid.
This was not the typical meal I would serve to all guests - it was an experiment. I came out of the meal quite full - but I can gladly say that just about all our dishes were empty, and we have no leftovers. Maybe it was just the right quantity to match the number of mouths at the table.
A little peek into the recipes...
Coffee Marinade
- 1c ground coffee
- 1/2c soy sauce
- 1/2c sweet liquor (I used whiskey)
- 1/2c olive oil
- 1T (or more) ground garlic
- 2t (or more) ground ginger
- 2t salt
- 2t ground black pepper
- 2T sugar
- 2t ground chili pepper
- 2t ground coriander
Mix all in a bag, and marinate meat 24 hours minimum in advance of roasting. Roasting - roast at 350 for 45 minutes for a C.T. butt, then at 250 for 45 minutes. Cover with foil to rest at minimum 5-10 minutes prior to serving.
Blueberry Aioli
- 4 egg yolks
- 1/2c olive oil
- Juice of 1/2 lemon
- 1/4c - 1/2c fresh blueberries
- 1-2 cloves garlic, minced (adjust to taste)
- Salt to taste
Blend all in a mini food processor until smooth. Refrigerate immediately, and use an immersion blender just prior to serving to aerate sauce. I served this with the fried green tomatoes (I've posted my recipe on this prior - slice thin, salt overnight, flour/egg/panko, fry) and fried eggplants (same execution). This was a winner.
Now, having been busy during the course of dinner to take photos (DOH!), I have to say that my experiment with dessert was a)fun; b)tasty; and c)visually attractive. Isn't this combination what it's all about, no matter what we're doing?!
For the duo of sweets... Let's back up 2 days prior. I melted dark chocolate and discovered that an offset spatula and parchment paper work just fine to create a thin layer of chocolate to make chocolate bands (to surround cake). I then sprinkled the chocolate with kosher salt and refrigerated it in the fridge about 5 minutes to set. I pulled out my metal straightedge, and cut equal widths in the chocolate. I then quickly wrapped each chocolate strip around a round cookie cutter, and taped the parchment onto itself. All these rounded strips, then went back into the fridge overnight. The parchment pealed off each ring without sticking at all, and I had these great little chocolate band rings, in which I set chocolate cake and cherry juice for a modified black forest cake. Originally, the cherry juice was to have been cherry caviar - so that each round would look like salmon roe sushi. Alas...I will keep trying and playing with the pH.
I then melted more chocolate, did the same thin-layer thing on parchment, fridged it for 5 minutes, but this time I took the same round cookie cutter and used it to "score" the chocolate with equally-sized rounds. On each round, I dropped some puffed rice, for textural difference, and I sprinkled on some truffle salt (!) for umami contrast. Fridged this stamped chocolate overnight, and the next day the chocolate broke into perfect pieces to leave the rounds intact. On each chocolate plate, I served a same-sized cut of sweet potato cheesecake. I think the flavor came together pretty well.
Now imagine both of these served on a white plate. The color was rather nice. Damn, where was my camera when I needed it! Alas...another time...
Exposition: Salt/pepper crackers with three cheeses, sweet cucumbers, and (surprise guest!) pork/chicken pate. Pairing: berry infused vodka martini.
Rise: Fried green tomatoes and eggplant, with blueberry aioli. Pairing: Sauvigion Blanc.
Climax: Roasted pork with coffee marinade, alongside (originally) tomato pasta (which became) red wine pasta with sage/lemongrass foam. Pairing: Schioppettino / Tempranillo.
Fall: Caesar salad with charcuterie. Pairing: Tempranillo.
Denouement: Duo of sweets (black forest cake and sweet potato cheesecake). Pairing: coffee, Puerto Rican rum .
There were several courses, which cumulatively added up to quite a bit of quantity. However, each course individually was not overly quantitative - but instead strove to hit all the parts of the range of flavors. Of particular note...
...Andrew (gracious thanks, as always!!) for all his help in the kitchen. I would probably have stopped at course 2 if not for his help. And Hubby, for helping to put together our vodka drink starter of the evening. Mmmm...
...the wines. And - of particular note - I can't say too much about the Sauvignon Blanc, as I understand that one can not purchase it in the States, but - the SB this evening was lovely. Smelled like lychee at the nose, lightly sweet and a touch of grass on the palate.
...home made crackers. Eeeeeeeeasy! And fun! But - definitely time consuming to roll out all the dough, cut, and lay on the stone. Imagine making 12 pizzas a night.
...the pork in the coffee marinade came out pretty well, with the exception being that there was not enough capascum hit to the palate (which we covered with having the chili powder at the table for service);
...the blueberry aioli which this morning I thought was as solid as cured concrete, but which I discovered yielded quite well and had good texture with application of the immersion blender;
...and the sweets, which was my first experiment in working with chocolate, but yielded a major FAIL in experimenting with a combination of cherry juice+sodium alginate+sodium citrate+sugar in calcium lactate solution. Another time, perhaps more sodium citrate and a little less acid.
This was not the typical meal I would serve to all guests - it was an experiment. I came out of the meal quite full - but I can gladly say that just about all our dishes were empty, and we have no leftovers. Maybe it was just the right quantity to match the number of mouths at the table.
A little peek into the recipes...
Coffee Marinade
- 1c ground coffee
- 1/2c soy sauce
- 1/2c sweet liquor (I used whiskey)
- 1/2c olive oil
- 1T (or more) ground garlic
- 2t (or more) ground ginger
- 2t salt
- 2t ground black pepper
- 2T sugar
- 2t ground chili pepper
- 2t ground coriander
Mix all in a bag, and marinate meat 24 hours minimum in advance of roasting. Roasting - roast at 350 for 45 minutes for a C.T. butt, then at 250 for 45 minutes. Cover with foil to rest at minimum 5-10 minutes prior to serving.
Blueberry Aioli
- 4 egg yolks
- 1/2c olive oil
- Juice of 1/2 lemon
- 1/4c - 1/2c fresh blueberries
- 1-2 cloves garlic, minced (adjust to taste)
- Salt to taste
Blend all in a mini food processor until smooth. Refrigerate immediately, and use an immersion blender just prior to serving to aerate sauce. I served this with the fried green tomatoes (I've posted my recipe on this prior - slice thin, salt overnight, flour/egg/panko, fry) and fried eggplants (same execution). This was a winner.
Now, having been busy during the course of dinner to take photos (DOH!), I have to say that my experiment with dessert was a)fun; b)tasty; and c)visually attractive. Isn't this combination what it's all about, no matter what we're doing?!
For the duo of sweets... Let's back up 2 days prior. I melted dark chocolate and discovered that an offset spatula and parchment paper work just fine to create a thin layer of chocolate to make chocolate bands (to surround cake). I then sprinkled the chocolate with kosher salt and refrigerated it in the fridge about 5 minutes to set. I pulled out my metal straightedge, and cut equal widths in the chocolate. I then quickly wrapped each chocolate strip around a round cookie cutter, and taped the parchment onto itself. All these rounded strips, then went back into the fridge overnight. The parchment pealed off each ring without sticking at all, and I had these great little chocolate band rings, in which I set chocolate cake and cherry juice for a modified black forest cake. Originally, the cherry juice was to have been cherry caviar - so that each round would look like salmon roe sushi. Alas...I will keep trying and playing with the pH.
I then melted more chocolate, did the same thin-layer thing on parchment, fridged it for 5 minutes, but this time I took the same round cookie cutter and used it to "score" the chocolate with equally-sized rounds. On each round, I dropped some puffed rice, for textural difference, and I sprinkled on some truffle salt (!) for umami contrast. Fridged this stamped chocolate overnight, and the next day the chocolate broke into perfect pieces to leave the rounds intact. On each chocolate plate, I served a same-sized cut of sweet potato cheesecake. I think the flavor came together pretty well.
Now imagine both of these served on a white plate. The color was rather nice. Damn, where was my camera when I needed it! Alas...another time...
Thursday, July 28, 2011
I have a theory
If, at every instance you put something in your mouth, what you eat covers every flavor in your tongue's spectrum of tastes, the desire for quantity no longer exists.
This theory is beginning to drive the way I eat (and cook) these days. Not all meals, but most of them - and it's making me really think about what I'm putting in my mouth. It's a simple idea.
I forget exactly what it was that I served, but the other day Hubby was, again, my guinea pig for trying out a little food marble I've been tossing around in this cranial cavity of mine. The dinner I served covered the tongue's spectrum of tastes, and it covered the major food types. It left a hungry Hubby full after one serving, not even wanting of dessert. (I had incorporated some sweet flavors in the entree course) And this experiment led me to wonder, whether it is not so much the size of our stomach that drives the desire for food, but more this muscle in our mouth that acts as a direct extension of the human creature's, or any animal's for that matter, innate ability to self regulate.
Could it be that our tongue, this direct - and usually first - connection between our human organism and the foods that fuel it, has a natural map of flavors that would cover all the nutrients our body needs? It is, after all, the only sense that comes into direct physical contact, in most cases, to the actual foods we ingest. If the tongue has this natural map - maybe, then, the tongue is not as much a reactionary organ that sends the message of what it encounters to different synapses in our brain. It may, instead, be the provocateur, fulfilling the body's quota for various nutrients by requesting foods available through nature and mapped into our genes over human history, foods which harbor nutrients necessary for our organism's survival.
(here's another plug to eat foods that haven't been processed - the more processed foods we eat, the more it may modify our - and our offsprings' - genetics to want processed foods)
I'm preparing for a dinner this Saturday - and I'm serving this marble to the masses. For the dinner, I'm coupling the idea of taste spectrum with the layer of texture spectrum. The verdict is still out.
This theory is beginning to drive the way I eat (and cook) these days. Not all meals, but most of them - and it's making me really think about what I'm putting in my mouth. It's a simple idea.
I forget exactly what it was that I served, but the other day Hubby was, again, my guinea pig for trying out a little food marble I've been tossing around in this cranial cavity of mine. The dinner I served covered the tongue's spectrum of tastes, and it covered the major food types. It left a hungry Hubby full after one serving, not even wanting of dessert. (I had incorporated some sweet flavors in the entree course) And this experiment led me to wonder, whether it is not so much the size of our stomach that drives the desire for food, but more this muscle in our mouth that acts as a direct extension of the human creature's, or any animal's for that matter, innate ability to self regulate.
Could it be that our tongue, this direct - and usually first - connection between our human organism and the foods that fuel it, has a natural map of flavors that would cover all the nutrients our body needs? It is, after all, the only sense that comes into direct physical contact, in most cases, to the actual foods we ingest. If the tongue has this natural map - maybe, then, the tongue is not as much a reactionary organ that sends the message of what it encounters to different synapses in our brain. It may, instead, be the provocateur, fulfilling the body's quota for various nutrients by requesting foods available through nature and mapped into our genes over human history, foods which harbor nutrients necessary for our organism's survival.
(here's another plug to eat foods that haven't been processed - the more processed foods we eat, the more it may modify our - and our offsprings' - genetics to want processed foods)
I'm preparing for a dinner this Saturday - and I'm serving this marble to the masses. For the dinner, I'm coupling the idea of taste spectrum with the layer of texture spectrum. The verdict is still out.
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