Home, cooking, articles re: food and farming

I tell you, I think the glory days of air travel are truly gone forever. Gawd, it's just an exercise in frustration-management now. I have, in all honesty, never seen it take so long to board AND deplane a flight as I did on ours today. Mary, mother of god. When we landed at DCA, it took quite some time to open the door and then, as if everyone had been so stupefied by the wait that they were rendered catatonic, the first 20 rows of passengers trudged off at a truly glacial pace. T and I were positively flummoxed. I mean, do some folks enjoy being smooshed like sardines into an airless, stale-smelling box that's racing across the clouds? It was confounding, and you just should have seen the line for cabs. Mamma mia, I do think DCA was trying to set a Guinness record. In any case, we finally got home, shared eager hugs all around with the boys, got them tucked into bed, and I started in on dinner. Our main will be collard and cheese pasties from the batch I made last week, and I'm making a side of pomegranate-molasses roasted carrots a la Melissa Clark and am sure they'll be spectacular.

Over the past week, I've read a handful of interesting articles regarding the state of food and farming today. As the Farm Bill languishes impotently, small-scale farmers, environmentalists and others are pushing ahead with their own agendas of producing food in a more sustainable way. Though this has been evolving proudly over the past decade, more is being written about the future of food. Are our current farming practices endurable? Will Big Food and its seemingly endless coffers manage to continue buying off and lying to government and the public? What changes can we make, should we make, must we make, and on what grounds? So, some food for thought on a Sunday evening...

This first piece, by Mark Bittman, is about California's Central Valley, a vast expanse of rich farmland which produces a majority amount of the produce we eat -one mega-farm, Bolthouse, grows an estimated 85% of the carrots Americans consume; the Central Valley is the largest supplier of canned tomatoes in the world; and so forth- but which we are exploiting in ever severe ways.

Also by Mark Bittman, is this article about how simple and beneficial -economically and healthwise- it'd be to vastly diminish the enormous amount of pesticides we use today in industrial farming.

And as you might know of my complete and at-times-consuming passion for buffalo-milk mozzarella, this piece on just how difficult it is to produce it here in the States is really interesting. The buffalo are so majestic, and I love that making cheese from their milk is considered a feat no less impossible than capturing the Great White Whale (Sam Anderson's imagery, not mine).

And finally, not least because our dinner is nearly ready, this piece from Grist will remind you, yet again, of just one of the reasons why you just do NOT want to eat factory-farmed beef.

Fantastic morning in Chicago: The Publican, Northwestern Cutlery

This morning has been so relaxing. Truly, it is just a shockingly different pace when the kids are elsewhere. We lazed around in bed reading and enjoying coffee and then took a fantastic, long walk all around the city but heading northwest towards The Publican and a cooking supply store, Northwestern Cutlery, that we wanted to check out. It's a gorgeous though cold day, and I have been repeatedly reminded that although I truly enjoy visiting Chicago, there is no chance in the world I'd live here again. Too much cold!  Anyway, Northwestern Cutlery did not disappoint and we came away with some good finds including a massive amount of collagen casing for making sausages at home, a julienne peeler and several other goodies.

Then we headed to The Publican for brunch. I loved every single element of the restaurant's design and layout. What a great atmosphere, hip yet down-to-earth, energetic but you could have a conversation...everyone just seemed happy to be there. The booths had hinged doors on them so that when everyone was seated, you closed your little group off for some cute degree of privacy. The service was great. The bathrooms were superb. Seriously, look at this communal sink. Not only does this hasten the time in which the stalls become available, but I feel certain the handwashing rate increases dramatically when you've got this public arena in which it's obvious if you don't opt to clean up.

I ordered us 6 oysters to start, and they did not disappoint. T decided he only wanted two, so I feel I made out well.  Although there was a nice champagne vinegar-shallot mignonette on the side, I liked my bivalves best with just a squeeze of lemon. Mmm, mmm.

Then I chose the farro, beet, squash and farmers cheese salad and T opted for the pork schnitzel BLT. As he said, "wow, that's a lot of schnitzel. I'm definitely going to have to catch it with the bun top." Indeed. The Publican is a pork- and beer-centric place so his choice seemed a wise one. A good BLT is hard to beat, and The Publican's bacon did not disappoint. However, we both felt underwhelmed by the sandwich which was not, unfortunately, greater than the sum of its parts. The schnitzel took over and its breading lacked kick. It needed some lemon, or a hint of mustard or something. And while the garlic aioli was -and always is- a good touch, there wasn't enough of it. Something like an arugula pesto in concert with the aioli would have lifted this sandwich to greater and more flavorful heights. Too, there was no sauce, ketchup or otherwise, for the fries. In my opinion, this is the equivalent of serving cold bread at dinner: neither is good, both are inexcusably simple to avoid. I'm not a fan of ketchup in general, but fries were made to be dipped in it, so any place serving frites, especially good ones, should have both ketchup and a good aioli at the ready.

Lest you think otherwise, T did clean his plate.

Now I really grooved on my salad which was dressed with an orange-brown butter drizzle. Farmers cheese is massively underrated, and I always love farro. This was totally satisfying and is yet another dish I'm going to work up at home.

All in all, we loved Publican as much for its atmo as its commitment to happy pork and pleasure in eating. Cheers!

Seckel pear muffins, my Sugar Maple

These muffins are lovely: whole grain but light as can be, lightly scented with cloves, cinnamon and nutmeg, studded with finely chopped pears. I used the same recipe as for all my muffins (see Ginger Peach recipe for the one I actually looked at this morning when making these) but instead of the crystallized ginger, peaches and so forth, added 3/4 tsp of both cloves and cinnamon, a 1/4 tsp of ground ginger, and 1/2 tsp of freshly ground nutmeg. I also included 1 c of diced pears and 1/2 c of unsweetened applesauce.

Our Sugar Maple out back has come into its fluorescence. Stunning! It'll only last about a week and the rate of leaf-dropping is positively diarrhetic, but I just love this tree; it's what I see from my kitchen and dining room. It is magnificent, and when its leaves are yellow like this, the whole house lights up.