The Honest Plate

Salvage. (The new recycling.)

Our New England home was build sometime between 1910 and 1920, and in the couple of years that we've owned it, have spent a great deal of time and energy bringing it into the 21st century.  I'm talking real basic stuff -- like electric wiring.  When we bought the house, much of it was still wired with the original "knob and tube" cloth-coated wire.  We had to have the house re-wired for a number of reasons -- safety, being the biggest.  Insulation was another "upgrade".  For our first winter, we endured perpetual drafts and chills, even with the heat on, so we got that fixed too.

Despite shortcomings like these, I love our house.  It's an amazing structure, built of old-growth timbers by skilled craftsmen, and the did it all almost 100 years ago, sans computers, laser-levels, or nail guns.  Everything in it is still solid -- the banisters, the doors, the floors.  I have great respect for this place, and my wife Gretchen and I are doing our best to restore it .  Luckily, the previous owners didn't mess with it too much, making only a few minor cosmetic updates here and there.

One of our guiding principles is to use as much salvage as much as possible.  And doing so is easy, because we're close to an amazing supplier of architectural salvage:  New England Demolition and Salvage.  This store is simply mind-blowing.  Occupying a huge old shipping warehouse in New Bedford, Massachusetts, it's a well-organized nirvana for old home restoration.  Half a mile (it seems) of nothing but old doors.  Thousands of old wooden shutters.  Cast iron tubs, porcelain sinks, ornate radiators.  Door knobs, drawer pulls, hinges of every size and shape.  They even have a huge supply of pintels, which is the hardware that enables a working shutter to be affixed to the house and swivel.  New, they cost $30 a pair (sold online by a specialty company).  At New England Demolition and Salvage -- they're $2 each (I bought 20).  I also bought a beautiful 5 panel sold fir door -- it matched the other doors in our house exactly -- for $40. 

Not only is this generally the lower environment impact way to go, what you can find in salvage is often better and certainly cheaper than modern replacements.  I've purchased a number of old shutters from NEDS, and at $40 a pair, they're far cheaper than the equivalent custom-built wooden shutters, which can cost up to $600 a pair.  And I can't imagine they're built any better either than these old pieces (held together without nails, still going strong after 100+ years).

This has us thinking about all the other ways that re-using/salvaging/recycling is part of our lives -- from accepting our wonderful neighbor's hand-me-down toys for our 2 year old, to trash recycling, to composting...yet I am sure we aren't doing nearly enough.

The Greenhorns.

There's an exciting film project in the works called The Greenhorns -- a feature-length documentary about the new world of sustainable agriculture and the young farmers who have committed their lives to it.  The trailer is here:

This is an independent, boot-strapped production, but they've been able to gather an impressive advisory board, including Alice Waters, Michael Pollan, Bonnie Powell (of Ethicurian.com), and others.  The film's blog is here:  The Irresistible Fleet of Bicycles.

Local is everywhere.

There's a mathematical function called the "s-curve" (or sigmoid curve); it looks like this:

Economists, sociologists and business-types use it to describe trends.  Typically the vertical axis will represent units of product or number of users, and the horizontal axis represents time.  Right in the middle of the graph is the inflection point, where the trend changes sign -- it's still growing, but the rate of growth begins to slow down.  But in the lower left-hand portion of the graph is where the growth sharply accelerates, giving the curve a "hockey stick" shape.  This is sometimes referred to as the tipping point -- when a previously rare or niche product suddenly and rapidly becomes common. 

I think the Summer of 2008 might be remembered as the point when local food tipped. Marian Burros has a feature on the front page of the New York Times food section on the growth of local food -- "Supermarket Chains Narrow Their Sights".  Loads of sound bites in her article, such as Wal-Mart announcing that it will spend $400 million this year on locally grown produce, and Wegman's Food Markets seeing a 20% increase in sales of local produce this past year.  Sure, it may be tempting to view some of this with a suspicious eye (Wal-Mart?).  But on the whole, that major chain retailers are shifting their focus toward local food systems is a very good thing. 

The myth, the legend: shortening.

A few weeks ago, I wrote a post on Feeding America, an amazing website (courtesy of Michigan State University) that provides high resolution scans of very old cookbooks (warning:  Feeding America is major derailer; if you have real work to do, best leave it alone).

I've been looking through several of the older cookbooks (pre-1920), and the curiosities in them are endless.  Desserts are king -- sometimes, half of the book is dedicated to cakes and pies (how much of this stuff did they used to eat?).  And just about every dessert requires an ingredient that we see less and less of today:  shortening.  Which got me wondering -- why do they call it shortening?  Why not just call it fat?  Where did the term shortening come from?

So off I went on mission to find out.  I consulted a few cookbooks (modern, that is), the web (the usual suspects:  Google, Wikipedia, et al) and McGee's On Food and Cooking.  Here's what I learned about the legendary shortening:

• Shortening (i.e. fat) refers to the effect it has on pastry dough, in that it results in a "shorter" baked product.  A shorter (or short) baked good is one that's tender, crumbly (not short in height, or size); hence:  shortbread, shortcake and short crust.  The word short, in fact, used to mean weak or pliable.
• Shortening has appeared in recipes for the last five- to six-hundred years; OED traces usage of the word as far back as the 15th century
• In 1911, Crisco hydrogenated vegetable oil was introduced to consumers; prior to this innovation, shortening consisted of a mixture of butter and lard
• Today, we know that shortening works by interfering with the wheat flour's ability to form long chain protein (gluten) strands, keeping them shorter and weaker...which is an interesting coincidence, considering that 600 years ago, our ancestors knew nothing of long chain proteins. 
• An example of a shortening/fat in action: a traditional baguette has no added fat/shortening and has a chewy, relatively tough texture (long chain proteins). However, a biscuit, composed of essentially the same ingredients as the baguette, does have fat/shortening (butter, lard, Crisco, etc).  The shortening gives the biscuit a light, fluffy, even crumbly texture (caused by weak, shortened protein chains) .
• A bit of a side note: many people believe that shortening (e.g., processed vegetable oil) produces pastry that's superior to lard or butter.  Part of this may be due to the fact that gas bubbles play an important role in the texture of pastry -- the more small gas bubbles, the more tender the crust.  McGee points out that modern shortening has a different structure than animal fats, allowing smaller bubbles to form and remain in the dough during baking.  Also, he notes that manufacturers "fill shortening with preformed bubbles of nitrogen (around 10% of the volume) and bubble stabilizing emulsifiers u(p to 3% of the shortening weight)."  Personally, that's enough to make processed vegetable shortening a deal-breaker (and I won't even get started on hydrogenation.)

For a fascinating etymology/history lesson on shortening, check out this post:  The Origins of Shortening

Tractor envy.

I've been a subscriber to Hobby Farms for about a year now, and hands down it's one of my favorite magazines.  If you're a budding small farmer or ambitious gardener, you'll read it cover to cover.  It's packed with stuff on organic agriculture, heritage animal breeds, ethical treatment of animals, how to build things, how to run an ecologically responsible farm, even articles on alternative energy (wind mills!) 

But the tractor ads generate a visceral response in me. I find myself running to my wife, "Honey, look at this".  She laughs in my face.  Whatever. It is pretty ridiculous, I guess.  Why do I want one?  I really don't know...I have absolutely no need for a $50,000 heavy farm tractor, and probably never will.  Then again, if I did need one, Hobby Farms has a pretty good Tractor Buying Guide

The time dividend.

Clay Shirkyon has written a brilliant essay:  Gin, Television, and Social Surplus.  It's essentially a response to the question "Where do people get the time to build to Wikipedia?".  Clay answers this by tracing back the historical curve of leisure time; the insight:  we've just entered a new era in which people (a lot of them) are using their free time to make things of broad social value. This is happening because a) the cost of the tools needed to make things has dropped precipitously (notably, digital/web/networked tools) and b) our free time is evolving from leisure = consumption (watching TV, drinking gin), to leisure = production (e.g. making things like Wikipedia, composing a blog) that have social and economic utility.

I suppose that this is not entirely new -- the idea of having a "hobby" has been around for some time.  But the scope of it has changed because access and ability to share is now virtually free and instantaneous.  Want to know about, say, letterpress printing?  A whole universe on this topic is a Google search away.  Ten years ago, finding information (and like-minded enthusiasts) on this subject would be very, very slow-going.  No wonder TV used to be a more interesting diversion. 

Clay's essay is a reason to be optimistic and hopeful.  Consider what could happen (is happening) as people use their free time to work on problems like our broken food system -- essentially a subset of the larger climate change problem.  Maybe -- with hundreds of thousands of people working on this problem, spreading information, sharing their successes and challenges, inventing new ideas, egging each other on -- maybe we can fix it.  It is indeed amazing what you can accomplish when you turn off the TV, put down the glass of wine, and actually make something.

Good old-fashioned lard.

Lard has been making a come-back in the past few years.  Credit Mario Batali with kicking things off with lardo (cured fatback) back in 2003, at his Otto Enoteca Pizzeria in New York City.  Since then, chefs and pastry experts have embraced lard, and food writers such as Corby Kummer, Nina Planck and Melissa Clark have all but declared it trendy. 

And, as long as you don't buy lard in the dairy case in the supermarket (which is hydrogenated), real lard -- made from the hard, saturated fat surrounding the pig's kidneys -- is a real food.  There's minimal processing, it's traditional, and you can make it yourself.  Our grandparents and great grandparents knew that lard was good.  Lard is what makes pie crusts flaky/crunchy/melt-in-your-mouth; it's what makes anything fried extra-good; it's the ingredient that can make a lean dish taste magical.  What they didn't know (or probably care about) is the nutrition science of lard; in spite of the bad rap it has suffered until recently, lard is actually rich in monounsaturated fat, the kind that lowers LDL cholesterol and leaves HDL alone.

But what about rendering lard?  Much has been said and written about this process -- that it's messy, smelly, and time-consuming (taking up to eight hours).  But we uncovered a very easy, much faster way to render lard.  And no corners were cut with this recipe -- it yields an excellent product.

Rendered Leaf Lard:

1)  The first step may be the hardest:  find someone who can sell you leaf lard.  We've had luck at farmers markets; pig farmers carry it and will happily sell it to you.  For this recipe, we used a 2 lb portion.   
2)  Trim away any bloody or meaty-looking bits and discard.  Then, with a chef's knife, cut the lard into fine dice, e.g., 1/2 inch squares.
3)  Put the diced lard into a round or oval oven-proof vessel (we used a large Le Creuset pot).  Remember, you need to pour the liquid fat out -- a rectangular dish could make it a little tricky
4)  Place uncovered into a 325 oven.  No need to pre-heat; the pot and the fat can to be brought up to temperature with the oven.
5)  Allow the fat to render for about 2 hours; stir every 30 - 45 minutes or so.  When finished, you'll have quite a bit of clear, rendered pork fat and a good amount of golden-brown "cracklings"
6)  After removing from the oven, carefully pour the hot fat through a fine mesh strainer, and into a large ceramic bowl to allow it to cool.
7)  While still hot, dump the pork crisps onto a plate and season immediately with sea salt (paper towels placed on the plate can help absorb the excess fat.

The cracklings alone were nearly worth all the effort -- immediate gratification.  We used them the same way you'd use cold bacon:  salads, burgers and sandwiches.

But the lard itself will be used to make pie crust, a topic on which we'll post shortly.

Michael Pollan at Slow Food Martha's Vineyard Potluck.

I was fortunate enough to attend the Slow Food Martha's Vineyard Potluck this past Tuesday (7/22/08), and in addition to having a really great time (the world needs more potluck dinners!), I got to hear Michael Pollan speak.   

There wasn't much new in his presentation; essentially, he outlined the main ideas in his book In Defense of Food, including:  1) The American Paradox (the country most obsessed with healthy food is actually the least healthy) ; 2) The Ideology of Nutritionism (food is a delivery vehicle for nutrients, you need experts to explain which nutrients are good);  3) Industrialization of Food; 4) Eater's Manifesto (Eat food, not too much, mostly plants.)  But he did offer a few anecdotes about his relationship with Martha's Vineyard.  For starters, he's been a regular visitor since the 1970's, and still visits with his family today.  And when he was younger, started a small business on the island that delivered New York City bagels, lox, cream cheese and a copy of The New York Times (although he admitted that the carbon footprint was nothing to be proud of). 

Both Martha's Vineyard and Michael Pollan have come a long way since then.  Thirty-five years ago, there were only a handful of farms on the island, which meant that nearly all of the produce, diary and eggs had to be shipped in by boat.  Today, there are dozens of amazing farms on Martha's Vineyard, and nearly all of them practice organic, sustainable agriculture.

And whereas Michael Pollan used to deliver the New York Times, he now writes for them. 

Food heroes by the dozen.

Check out ThePeopleWhoFeedUs -- a video blog featuring unsung (and sung) food heroes – farmers, cheesemakers, bakers, restaurateurs, writers, and assorted innovators in specialty food and small-scale agriculture.  It almost seems unfair to call the videos “posts” – each one is a essentially a short film. Staci Strauss and Craig McCord are the writing/directing/production team behind it all, and they’ve really gone out of their way to find cool people with a SOLE food outlook.  A few examples:

Nina Planck, author of Real Food:  What to Eat and Why

Rick Field, of Rick's Picks

Mike Yezzi of Flying Pigs Farm

This is what I love about the web – you’d be hard pressed to find something as good as this on TV;(perhaps Gourmet’s Diary of a Foodie comes close).  Thank you Staci and Craig – keep on keepin’ on.

Swiss chard 101.

We've been having pretty good luck in our garden with swiss chard.  But our first batch of chard (sauteed with lardons of bacon) had a chalky, gritty finish in the mouth; the same thing that sometimes happens with spinach.  No, it wasn't sand or dirt -- we'd thoroughly washed the leaves, and sand would have been much coarser -- this was more like a "hairy teeth" feeling.

Did some research -- Harold McGee's On Food and Cooking was helpful (always an answer in that book!) -- and here's what I learned:

• The culprit is oxalic acid, naturally present in chard
• Oxalic acid reacts with calcium -- also present in chard -- causing the calcium to form tiny crystals
• The calcium crystals are what cause the chalky/gritty sensation
• In high does, oxalic acid is toxic -- it's what makes rhubarb leaves poisonous (BTW, a few bites of rhubarb leaf isn't fatal; you'd need to eat a lot of it for it to kill you) 
• Oxalates are present at safe/edible levels in the following foods (listed in descending order of highest concentration):  buckwheat, star fruit, black pepper, parsley, poppy seed, rhubarb stalk, amaranth, spinach, chard, beets, cocoa, chocolate, most nuts, most berries, and beans.
  

I'm not really sure what's up with our swiss chard, because we've cooked tons of it before without the chalky/gritty effect. Perhaps it's the soil chemistry, or maybe even some quirk in our seaside climate -- who knows (thoughts, anyone?). 

At any rate:  how to reduce oxalic acid in swiss chard (or spinach, etc):

• Use the stalks/stems only -- oxalic acid is in higher concentrations in the leaves (traditional Italian cooking uses the stalks, not the leaves)
  
• Blanch the leaves in boiling water (30 sec to 1 min) -- this leaches out the oxalic acid reasonably well
• Add something alkaline -- such as baking soda -- to neutralize the acid
• Our approach was to blanch them with a teaspoon of baking soda added to the boiling water.  We tried this with the same swiss chard from our garden, and it eliminated all traces of grittiness.  Success!!! (said with Borat accent)

For further reading: link.

New Michael Pollan interview.

Great new interview with Michael Pollan, in which he talks about grass-fed beef, sustainability, and the current food crisis.

Link to interview on Alternet.

Patron saint of salumi.

Paul Bertolli is a food hero.  This guy does everything -- a hugely successful chef, writer, entrepreneur, and charcuterie master.  His Fra Mani Salumi is a beautiful, near-perfect expression of Italian dry cured sausage (Whole Foods and most specialty stores carry it).  The first time I tried Fra Mani (Toscano), I remember anticipating the flat, plastic taste that most domestic salumi have; I was prepared to be underwhelmed.  Instead, I was jolted by powerful, confident flavors so striking that I almost started laughing.  I just kept saying "wow".

But the other cool thing about him is that he's under-the-radar -- no TV shows, no line of cookware on QVC, no "finishing sauces" with his picture on the label.  Paul Bertolli is the real deal; honest and true to his craft.  His book -- Cooking By Hand -- is an absolute classic, with most of its pages dedicated to insights about food traditions, taste and agriculture, rather than recipes.  It's the antithesis of the celebrity-chef cookbook.

Here's a great piece with Mr. Bertolli, produced by Slow Food USA; he talks about Fra Mani (p.s. small warning on the voice-over -- just a tad over-the-top):

Before and after.

Before.
A few weeks ago, our ambitious vegetable garden was doing quite well.  The beds were rich with natural fertilizer (from the horse farm next door), the young plants were put in the ground, and we set up irrigation.  Knowing this was an "experimental" year, we went all out -- 15 different varieties of heirloom tomato, leeks, eggplant, zucchini, 3 kinds of beans, 3 kinds of peppers, radishes, beets, fennel -- I'm sure there are some that I'm forgetting.

But the weeds (aka, "plants out of place") took over almost immediately.  It seems that they can easily navigate through 2 ft high coated steel rabbit fencing (half of which runs under ground), and 6 1/2 ft high plastic deer fencing.  Don't know how I didn't see 'em coming.

 

After.
Two weekends' worth of hard, sweaty, blister-inducing work, of removing weeds, laying down landscape fabric around the beds, and keeping the bugs at bay, and our garden is rockin'.  We're already starting to wonder what to do with all the zucchini.

Nature is just plain amazing.

 

HFCS and other four-letter words.

According to the FDA, High Fructose Corn Syrup (HFCS) is a "natural" ingredient, just like honey or refined table sugar.  The ruling, issued last week by the FDA's Center for Food Safety and Applied Nutrition, states that the government (with their clearer understanding of the HFCS manufacturing process -- shout-out to the Corn Refiners Association and Archer Daniels Midland!), is now comfortable with this ingredient bearing an "all natural" label.  Click here to see the FDA's letter to the Corn Refiners Association.

Doesn't this make your blood boil?  Over at the excellent Ethicurian blog, Bonnie really unleashes on this topic.   

Yet the more I dug into this, it strikes me that the term "natural" is untenable.  When we hear "natural", we presume that it comes from nature.  That an ordinary person could go outside, obtain the ingredient, process it in their barn or kitchen, and presto -- natural ingredient.  HFCS, for all the hair-splitting with the FDA's definition, doesn't meet our intuitive understanding of the concept.  How could something that requires such specialized equipment to manufacture (grinders, pumps, centrifuges, catalyzers, etc), be natural?

The problem is that technically, everything on earth is natural.  If you fight the Corn Refiners Association's argument hard enough, then the counter-punch might be that lots of things we think of (and label) today as natural -- table sugar, for example -- aren't necessarily any more un-natural than corn syrup.  Consider the extensive refining that sugar cane must go through to become white sugar.  Or how about chocolate? 

What I think we mean is that HFCS is not traditional.  We can't make a rough facsimile of it by hand; our grandparents and great-grandparents wouldn't recognize it; it has no history in any traditional cultures or societies.  Couple this with the the evidence that, while safe, corn syrup may not be good for us, and I think we're justified in being wary of it.  My family avoids it entirely.

What we really need is a new, impartial institution (or set of institutions) to create smarter, perhaps stricter definitions for our food.  Perhaps an institution that can accommodate producers of all sizes (rather than just the very big), and tailored to producers who want to bring us organic, ethical, sustainable, local and traditional foods (rather than inexpensive, value-added convenience foods).  Such an institution would have no place for obscenities like "all-natural HFCS" -- that's for the FDA to handle.

Beak-to-tail.

So here's the deal -- if an animal (or plant) is going to give its life to us, the least we can do is use all of it.  Nose-to-tail, farm-to-table, whatever you want to call it, the goal is the same:  waste nothing.  Aim for maxiumum economy.  I mean, face it: life wasn't a trivial matter for the animal (or plant)! The honorable thing to do is to consume it slowly and incrementally, rather than gobbling it up all at once.

I bought a 5 ¼ lb duck yesterday, but before I did I made sure I knew exactly what I was going to do with every part.  Not that there’s anything to brag about here -- duck is easy.  All of it is good.

The run-down:

1)  Breast:  Duck Proscuitto.  This was, in fact, what compelled me to buy the duck in the first place.  Duck Proscuitto is incredible:  creamy, rich duck fat wrapped in dark, earthy, salty duck meat.  Preparing it is ridiculously easy -- no special charcuterie equipment or training required -- just requires a little patience.

Here is the process, adapted from James Peterson's The Duck Cookbook:

12 Juniper Berries
2 Tbl kosher salt
1/2 of a fresh large bay leaf, chopped finely
1/2 Tsp corriander seeds, crushed under a saucepan
10 black pepper corns, crushed under a saucepan
1 clove garlic, crushed and minced into fine paste
1 Whole duck breast (skin on), separated into two

Mix the dry ingredients and the garlic together to make the curing/seasoning salt.  Generously coat both sides of each half of the duck breast with the mixture.  Wrap in plastic wrap and refrigerate for 24 hours.  Remove plastic wrap and pat dry.  Wrap in a clean, thin towel or doubled-up cheesecloth, tie with string (as though making a sausage).  Hang in the refrigerator for 3 to 4 weeks -- when the proscuitto is firm, it's done.

2)  Legs:  Roasted, Smoked Duck Legs.  Another super-easy preparation.  Place the two duck legs in a small to medium-sized baking dish. Trim all skin and extra fat off of the duck carcass, and cut into 1" (appx) square pieces; add the fat and skin to the baking dish with the duck legs.  The fat will render-out and help slow-cook/braise the legs.  Put into an oven and set to 350 (no need to preheat).  Cook for 2 hours, basting twice or so during the second hour.  When there done, you'd swear you had duck confit -- just add a little of the leftover seasoning salt (from the duck proscuitto) and it's ready to eat.

After the legs are slow-roasted, you can bring them to another level by hot smoking them. 

To do this, start a grill (charcoal is best).  When the coals cool down to medium heat (and if using charcoal, be sure coals are to one side for indirect heating) and get a handful of wood chips, which have been soaked for at least 30 min (I used oak, from wine barrels).  Add the chips to the fire, then put the cooked duck legs on the grill (but not directly over the coals) and cover.  Allow them to smoke for 20 to 30 minutes.

A great thing about duck legs -- it's very hard to overcook them.

3)  Fat:  Rendered in the oven (along with the legs).  When the legs are done, you'll have about 1 1/2 cups of beautiful duck fat.  Strain the fat with a fine mesh sieve, and put into a non-reactive container with a cover.  It will keep in the refrigerator for weeks -- perfect for cooking or even spread on toast with some sea salt.

4) Skin:  The skin, which we rendered into fat (in the duck leg preparation above), makes excellent duck cracklings.  Ariane Daugin, who runs the duck-centric specialty foods company D'Artagnan, used to have a restaurant in New York City (also called D'Artagnan); she served salted duck cracklings at the bar(!).  Immediately after the duck legs come out of the oven, remove the cracklings and sprinkle with salt (again, you can use the leftover seasoning/curing salt from the proscuitto).

5)  Carcass, wings, giblets:  Frozen, to be used later for duck stock.

6)  Liver:  Duck Liver Pate.  We put the livers (there seemed to be two packaged with our duck) in a cold sautee pan.  Add several tablespoons of good olive oil, two anchovies, a large smashed clove of garlic, and a spoon of capers (in vinegar).  Turn the heat to medium high, and let the livers cook through.  Dump the contents of the pan into a food processor.  Puree, adding a little more olive oil as it spins.  Season to taste.  Refrigerate and serve cold.

So this duck will be in my family’s life for many months -- we'll eat the smoked legs right away; the pate will last around a week; the duck fat several weeks.  The proscuitto will last us months, and the duck stock (which we'll freeze) will last as long as half a year.  And we’ll treasure and savor every bit. 

I like to imagine that the duck (or whatever meat or produce I've purchased) cost me ten times as much as what I paid at the cash register; so instead of 5 1/4 lbs of duck for $13.05, it set me back $130.50.  (I know it sounds weird, but try it.)  I also try hard to remember that this food was once alive, talking with other animals, or vying for space with its neighbors.  With these things in mind it’s easy to appreciate the food we have, and elevates how precious its existence really is.

Motherlode of nutritional data.

Ok, as we know, fresh, raw, whole and unprocessed foods -- the stuff you get from the farmer's market, the outer aisles of the supermarket, your garden, etc. -- often don't have a nutrition information label.  And while there's ample evidence that these kinds of foods are far healthier than packaged, processed stuff, sometimes you just want to know, ya know?  For instance, the Swiss Chard you picked up at the farmer's market -- how nutritious is it, exactly?  How many calories are in a carrot?  And what about eating three bananas for dessert -- is that wrong?

All of that and more is right here -- the big Lebowski of nutrition information:

 

The level of detail is insanely high -- not just carbs, fats, and calories, but minerals, sterols, amino acids, vitamins.  Plus there are stunning graphics depicting each food's "Nutritional Target Map", "Caloric Ratio Pyramid", "Nutrient Balance", and "Protein Quality".

The search tool is a tad cumbersome -- you'll need to use the "Food category" toolbar in addition to the main search box, otherwise a look-up on "apple" (leaving the food category at the default "All food categories"), will yield 3 pages of results, including "Apples, Canned", "McDonald's Apple Pie", etc. Make sure to toggle down to the "Fruits and Fruit Juices", or "Eggs and Diary" and so on. Also, once you've dialed-up the food you're looking for, check out the toolbar on the left for "serving size"; apple, for example, allows you to display nutrition information for: a large apple, a medium apple, a small apple, an extra small apple, 1 cup chopped apple, or any of the 8 choices provided. 

Fast foods can also be searched on this site...and just for fun, I found a few doozies:

McDonald's Double Quarter Pounder with Cheese (760 Calories, 430 calories from fat)

Hardee's 2/3 Lb Double Bacon Cheese Thickburger (1300 Calories, 860 calories from fat)

Pizza Hut Personal Pan Pizza, Beef (710 Calories, 320 calories from fat)

My (rhetorical) question -- how is any of this stuff legal? 

Scapes rule.

What's not to like about garlic scapes?  They're crunchy and fresh, suprisingly mild on the garlic-ness scale, and superlatively sustainable. As the unwanted shoots of young garlic, scapes would otherwise be tossed in the compost heap. Now farmers, chefs and home cooks are starting to appreciate them.  In fact, about a month ago, Melissa Clark of The New York Times, went into some detail about garlic scapes in A Garlic Festival Without a Single Clove.

So we picked some up over the weekend at the Farmer's Market in West Tisbury, on Martha's Vineyard.  And I'd say we got the last of them, as the season for scapes more or less over.  We prepared them simply with olive oil, salt, a few cloves of fresh minced garlic; sauteed at medium-high to medium until soft and just starting to carmelize; finished with a squeeze of lemon.  Totally declious, and tasting precisely of early summer. 

Back home in Providence, RI, we went to the Tuesday Farmers Market (there are one or more every day of the week) , and picked up a container of garlic scape pesto from Wishing Stone Farm. 

Scapes rule; one more thing to look forward to again next summer.

Rookie mistake.

I am by no means an expert gardener, and our vegetable garden reminds me of this every day.

For example, the French Breakfast Radishes we're growing.  Probably the easiest thing to cultivate, in fact, it's such a beginner vegetable, it's often recommended for young children.  They require little care or special preparation, and grow very, very fast.   Almost too fast. 

The problem is that if you leave them in the ground too long, it increases their pungency.  Hot weather (of which we've had a lot) has the same effect.  And now the beautiful, subtle radishes we enjoyed last week have morphed into face-melting fire balls.  Soaking them in water fixes the problem (a little), and it makes them crisper too.

By the way, the best way to enjoy radishes by far:  slice radish very thin, place slices on buttered (unsalted) baguette, sprinkle with coarse salt.  Sounds lame, but it tastes incredible.

Ps:  click on the picture and you'll get a full-size view of the tiny weeds sprouting all over our garden.  Fun!

Enlightened approach to raising, processing chicken.

A feature in the UK Guardian introduces us to Sheepdrove Organic Farm, run by Peter Kindersley, one of the entrepreneurs behind Dorling Kindersley -- publishers of very cool illustrated reference books.  Lots of inspiring stuff here about Mr. Kindersley's farm (they supply high-end UK grocer Waitrose), but of particular interest:  he has developed a new steam-based process for removing feathers from chickens.  This approach significantly reduces bacterial contamination in comparison to the industry-standard "scalding tank" method. And yes, even organically-raised chickens are dipped in scalding tanks. 

Also, it was great to hear that Sheepdrove Farm built an abattoir on the premises in order to minimize stress on the animals and the environment; the animals would otherwise need to be transported to an off-site processing facility.  Very sensible idea.  Link:  Sheepdrove Organic Farm.

Low-fi solutions, part 1.

I love low-tech devices -- stuff that doesn't need electricity, refined fuel, a radio signal, or software for it to work. Windmills, mechanical clocks, analog thermometers, retractable tape measures. Well, here's one for the ages, right up there with invention of the spear and the discovery of fire. It's a pot-in-pot cooling/food preservation system that uses earthenware pots, sand and water. 

Apparently the basic technology (which relies on the thermodynamic effects of evaporation) has been around for centuries, although Mohammed Bah Abba seems to have improved upon it with his design. The more I think about it, the more I want one of these!

Brought to my attention via Guy Kawasaki's How To Change The World blog.