What I wouldn't give for a nap, Sea Bass tonight

Seriously, I would give a whole heck of a lot! I am soooo tired on this rainy, gray Friday afternoon. My babysitter on Tuesday cancelled because she was sick, and today, she's out of town. I knew I relied on those afternoons off but I'm always amazed by just how much I look forward to hours that are my own. And especially this week with Jack sick and no school Monday. Wowzers! Put a fork in me because I'm done. In the meantime, I'm looking forward to a good dinner tonight. Because the sea bass was MSC-certified, I took advantage of the Whole Foods sale today and bought a lovely hunk. Thinking of doing a base of broiled pineapple, habanero, scallions and avocado with seared sea bass on top. Mmm... Will keep you posted. And then I'm going to bed.

Love Letter Jam

It always seems sad to throw out the Valentines roses Tom gives me, even if they're heading to the compost to eventually help make something else grow and bloom. While reading through Claudia Roden's book on middle eastern food recently, I paged past a recipe for rose petal jam. Today -- probably in some sort of sleep-deprived + dissociative stupor (90% of sitters have cancelled this week in addition to J still being sick and having adopted an incredibly irritating chapped nose-related wail) -- the idea of a rose jam came back to me in a memory swirl that whipped me back to Mont St. Michel, a stunningly gorgeous island community and Abbey off the Norman coast in France. T and I stayed for a few days in a lovely B&B there the summer after we married; we were living in Amsterdam, so travel throughout Europe was sinfully easy and cheap. Bliss. Anyway, at our first breakfast at the inn, the proprietress presented us with the most spectacular array of homemade jams, preserves and breads. The jellies ranged from the most common to those infinitely less familiar to us then, strawberry to Earl Grey, apricot to lavender, and so on. The rose hip jelly stood out immediately to both of us, its flavor equally matched, and impressively so, by its fragrance and color. The color and texture reminded me of the Mayhaw jelly I grew up eating, a fruit tree I've never seen outside of Louisiana, though I once befriended a Arkansan farmer via phone so as to procure some Mayhaw juice (you need it for my Nanny's cranberry sauce if you're being ultra-authentic). Don't ask me how I found this guy's number, some localharvest'y type of website, but he was great, we became fast-friends, he shipped me what Mayhaw juice he had left, I sent him my recipe, and we never spoke again. Delightful, yes? That was a hell of a special batch of cranberry sauce.

But back to Normandy, T and I just felt so fancy and indulgent with all these beautiful jams spread before us. We gorged ourselves happily, and I've never forgotten that morning. In thinking about that jam today, I looked back at the Valentines roses I was about to take out to the compost, and I reconsidered. I was wondering what the heck to do with the box of fresh red currants I bought a few days ago anyway, and how lovely it sounded to make a rose-currant jam, enlivened with the gorgeous floral citrusy'ness of Meyer lemon juice.

Right now, the petals (now cooked and drained) are macerating in the rose syrup I made by boiling said petals, water and lemon, straining and reboiling some of the resultant rosewater with sugar and more lemon. It's all quite beautiful, and I have high hopes it might provide us a little vicarious R&R, or at least a happy memory at breakfast sometime soon.

Humanity and eating, take 2

Did anyone see the Op-Ed in yesterday's NYT entitled "Don't Presume to Know a Pig's Mind"? How relevant to all I've been thinking about even more than usual lately. Blake Hurst, the writer, used to be a hog farmer and now grows corn and soybeans (hmm...wonder how that switch occurred? Farm Bill and what it subsidizes, anyone?) and is the president of the Missouri Farm Bureau. In essence, he seems to be mocking Chipotle's claim to use "happier pigs" in the food they serve, saying they don't tell us how such porcine happiness is measured. Because the "end result is a plate" for pigs headed to the slaughterhouse anyway (his quote, definitely not mine), Mr. Hurst feels that Chipotle's message is pernicious, costing hog farmers money because they have to comply with new calls to treat the animals better. For example, no more gestation crates. These are basically prisons which hold pregnant sows in place so that their food intake can be monitored; otherwise, they eat more than other pigs and can be aggressive about it. Um, having been pregnant twice, I can tell you that A) I definitely ate more than usual and probably more than my non-pregnant friends, B) I was definitely aggressive about said eating because when hunger pangs strike a pregnant gal, watch the freak out, and C) being pregnant is not real comfortable; if I'd been unable to move -like, at all!- I would have gone batshit.

Obviously humans and pigs aren't the same, but pigs aren't stupid; in fact, they're known to be bright, social and playful, and in my humble opinion, it makes perfect sense that any pregnant animal is going to try to consume more food because she is growing another animal inside her and that it would be stressful to not be able obtain such a basic need. Let me be clear about these gestation crates too; they aren't just small, they're miniscule. Several years ago, the Animal Legal Defense Fund filed suit against Corcpork, California's largest industrial pork farming operation, asserting that the crates they used violated anti-cruelty laws because: they were so small that "that the sows’ bodies are permanently forced into the bars at either end. These mothers spend virtually their entire lives pushed into hard, cold   metal, with hard concrete floors beneath them, without relief. These highly intelligent and sensitive animals cannot turn around. They cannot scratch. They cannot walk even one foot forward or backward. They are locked in these crates without the ability to engage in any of a pig’s natural activities. All the while, they are forced to endure a constant cycle of pregnancy followed almost immediately after giving birth by impregnation, until their tired bodies finally give out (ALDF website)."

Corcpork backed down and promised to phase out the use of these pens.

Back to the article from yesterday. Reading through Chipotle's website, you'll easily find an entire section on their Food With Integrity mission which is much more substantive than simply writing about how happy their animals are before they head into a burrito. For one, Chipotle, as we all should be, seem sincerely concerned about the rampant overuse of antibiotics in farmed animals: "According to the Union of Concerned Scientists, American pork producers use over 10 million pounds of antibiotics per year to keep their confinement raised pigs from getting sick. That's more than an estimated three times the amount used to treat all human illness." Gross and unnecessary if you don't force pigs into pens where disease breeds.

As well, how often do you read about the deleterious effects of stress and stress hormones on the human body? I find it exceedingly anthropocentric that we would not presume the same to be true for animals, and as such, why would we treat them in ways that could make the meat we then intend to eat less healthy? Chipotle seems to care about this too, hence the "happier pigs" claim.

Look, the agricultural-industrial complex in this country is a monolith with huge amounts of lobbying, money and power behind it. It doesn't want transparency, traceability or accountability because all of those undermine the bottom line of profit. "Farms" can slap the label of natural, free-range and other feel-goods on their products with ease, too often because those claims mean little to nothing. Chipotle's website makes me feel better, but who knows how much is really accurate? Words are easy. In this context, it's incredibly hard to really find out where your food is coming from, how it's been treated, grown, produced, cared for. Even at high-end, socially conscious stores like Whole Foods, the options for truly free-range, REAL chicken are few. The Whole Foods and Kosher Valley labels are rated 2, the second lowest mark (the scale goes up to 5+). 2 signifies nothing more than that an "enriched environment" was provided to the chickens. This does NOT include "enhanced outdoor access" (step 3), pasture-centeredness (step 4), or animal centered: bred for the outdoors (step 5). Can you believe that? You have to get to 5 to obtain an animal bred for the outdoors?

I find it really disheartening, disillusioning and sad. More to come.