shooting stars of thought...

Restless Farewell

2008-03-04T21:35:00.000-08:00

Well, folks, whether I'm ready or not, here it is: this blog is graduating.

That's right, this is the last post you'll see on shootingstarsofthought.blogspot.com. From now on, please point your browsers, rss feeds, and curious eyes to http://shootingstarsofthought.com

Here's the caveat: this new site is clearly a work in progress right now. I'm experimenting with layout, format, subject matter, even my hopes and dreams for the whole thing. (I'm also experimenting with trying to find more time to write on it, as the shortest month of the year, even with a bonus day, has also proved one of the busiest).

But all of these things will work themselves out. When they do, the little "beta" sign might just disappear from the top of the page. And the font might get a little bigger, and the design a little easier to navigate. But until then, while the design might wax and wane, the voice will stay strong and true. From now on, anytime you want to find what's on my mind, it will be here: shootingstarsofthought.com.

And there you have it. Thank you blogger, you've been good to me all of these years. I'd leave you with more of a speech, but I haven't got it in me (there's a tivo-ed episode of the wire and the last 25 pages of the diving bell and the butterfly to still accomplish tonite).

Instead, I'll do something I've been meaning to do for weeks: call your attention to Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova's acceptance speeches from the Oscars. (Unfortunately, in what only seems like oh-so-obvious irony, you can no longer watch these on youtube, thanks to "a copyright claim by the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences.")

So with the words of Glen Hansard--"Make art! Make art!"--I jump ship, change lanes, and set out for a wildly more creative course with the design of my blog in my own hands. Well, I guess it's time to bid farewell and be down the road...See you on the other side!

-Lauren

ps--feedback about this new venture is DEFINITELY welcome!

Day 2 of the Great Gourmand Vacation Week

2008-01-31T12:12:00.000-08:00

Day 2 (Monday): Homemade Jalepeno Cheese Bread sandwiches

The Great Gourmand Vacation Week continued on Monday with a recreation of one of my all-time favorite sandwiches: a steak melt on jalepeno cheese bread. I've sung songs about the valiant JCB in the past, and for good reason--the combination of creamy cheddar and spicy chile does wonders to any filling you dare insert between the slices.

Monday's JCB melt was inspired by leftover tri-tip, and took a deliciously local turn. Our overstuffed sandwiches not only featured leftover Brandt Beef tri-tip, they were crafted on Bread on Market jalepeno cheese mini-baguettes, and topped with caramelized Schaner Farms onions, and a splash of diced Valdavia Farms arugula for good measure. If only I had some Winchester Gouda on hand, the sandwich would seriously have been the best flavor explosion to come out of one San Diego kitchen since it started playing host to locally sourced meals about a year ago. (As it was, I had a huge block of Tillamook in my fridge, and being on "vacation" and all, I settled for the convenient rather than the trek to a Hillcrest cheese shop).

The meal even included San Diego hot sauce--I had the pleasure of sampling an array of hot sauces from Carlsbad company Scorpion Bay. When GGVW (Great Gourmand Vacation Week) ends and I go back to my regular routine, I intend to experiment more with these sauces--their tantalizing flavors (avocado, chocolate, taco-shop) deserve front-and-center placement in a dish. For the time being, I was content to dash a few drops of each on different bites of my sandwich, as any hot sauce that doesn't hold up to a steak sandwich is no hot sauce in my mind. (They all passed).

Suffice it to say, San Diego puts forth a damn good cheese steak. Why has it taken me so long to come to this realization? Seriously, with the triumvirate of Bandt beef, Bread on Market JCB baguette, and (I imagine) Winchester Gouda, Philly's got nothing on us. And did I mention how well a JCB cheese steak goes with a pint of Ballast Point Dorado? It's like the two were made to go hand in hand. (The brewery has 22-oz. bottles if you're wondering where to get some).

Coming up next: the Great Gourmand Vacation Week Road Trip!

the great gourmand vacation week: day 1

2008-01-30T21:43:00.000-08:00

Through a series of coincidences, happenstance, and a handful of last minute plans, this week has been dubbed, for lack of a more grandiose term, the Great Gourmand Vacation Week. Ok, so a caveat--in "vacation" week I don't actually mean I'm taking any time off work, but I do mean actively trying to spend every single evening acting like I'm on vacation. The result? A week peppered with delicious adventures in an itinerary that I otherwise thought only occurred during the the most well-planned, luxurious vacations. It's phenomenal (and I wholeheartedly recommend trying it at home).

Today marks the halfway point, and while I really should be in bed resting up for my next big adventure tomorrow, I thought that the halfway point seemed worthy of a blog post. Here, in a bit of a delay, is how the week kicked off.

Day 1 (Sunday): Homebrew lesson and barbeque.
I knew from the second I started pulling brewing equipment from a friend's closet that nothing this week was going to top day 1. It all started on Saturday, during a last minute trip to Ballast Point brewery (which doubles as the Home Brew Mart) when a casual conversation escalated to reality. A beer style was decided on, ingredients were purchased, and a plan was set in motion to make my first ever homebrew attempt actually happen.

the bounty: malt, malt extract, hops, yeast, and sugar, all ready to be spun into one bewitching brew

We settled on an American Pale Ale, mostly due to me liking it, my friend having had success with the style in the past, and the home brew mart's helpful "beer recipes" telling us exactly what we needed to throw into the pot. Here's the recipe (although the version we made had a few more kinds of hops), here's the instructions we followed for steeping grains and brewing from extract, and here's a step-by-step visual recount of the event:

steeping the grains

removing the grains

adding the malt extract

adding the hops

chilling the wort

transferring to the fermenter and taking a hydrometer reading

adding the yeast

sealing the deal!

Three days later it is bubbling steadily at 71 degrees F. (that's good!) We've got dry-hopping and then the bottling process to come, and if all goes well the official tasting is scheduled for leap-year Friday, because, well what better day to taste your first homebrew attempt than a day that only comes once in as far as you can remember (Feb 29 on a Friday)?

Oh, and then there was the barbecue. Not one to let experiences skate by at anything less than epic, I decided to take advantage of the wait time during the 3-hour process by grilling up a massive cut of tri-tip. (Who has a homebrew session without lots of delicious food to accompany it?). Brandt Beef has started coming to the Pacific Beach farmers markets on Saturday mornings, and I've been celebrating first with chili, then beef stew, and I was excited to try my third purchase, tri-tip. I also was hankering to test out a smoker bag I recently picked up, and ended up with a hassle-free, one bag, outstandingly delicious dinner: tri tip, new potatoes, and green beans. I'd show you pictures but my camera was trained on the stove the whole evening.

Stay tuned for more adventures from the Great Gourmand Vacation Week!

Let's get all historical up in this post

2008-01-23T19:54:00.000-08:00

Let's just call this the first in a series of ruminations on the past, present, and future of food. In no particular order, this one falls around the mid-1800's.

According to Jean Anthelme Brillat-Savarin, as translated by M.F.K. Fisher*:

Definition of Gastronomy

Gastronomy is the intelligent knowledge of whatever concerns man's nourishment.

Its purpose is to watch over his conservation by suggesting the best possible sustenance for him.

It arrives at this goal by directing, according to certain principles, all men who hunt, supply or prepare whatever can be made into food.

Thus it is Gastronomy, to tell the truth, which motivates the farmers, vineyardists, fishermen, hunters, and the great family of cooks, no matter under what names or qualifications they may disguise their part in the preparation of foods.

Gastronomy is a part of:
Natural history, by its classification of alimentary substances;
Physics, because of the examination of the composition and quality of these substances;
Chemistry, by the various analyses and catalyses to which it subjects them;
Cookery, because of the art of adapting dishes and making them pleasant to the taste;
Business, by the seeking out of methods of buying as cheaply as possible what is needed, and of selling most advantageously what can be produced for sale;
Finally, political economy, because of the sources of revenue which gastronomy creates and the means of exchange which it establishes between nations.

It rules over our whole life; for the cries often newborn babe beg for his wet nurse's breast; and the dying man still receives with some pleasure his final potion, which, alas, it is too late for him ever to digest!

It concerns also every state of society, for just as it directs the banquets of assembled kings, it dictates the number of minutes needed to make a perfectly boiled egg.

The subject matter of gastronomy is whatever can be eaten; its direct end is the conservation of individuals; and its means of execution are the culture which produces, the commerce which exchanges, the industry which prepares, and the experience which invents means to dispose of everything to the best advantage.

*Brilliat-Savarin's The Physiology of Taste was published in 1825. It has been translated from French into English several times, including once by the food writer MFK Fisher, who published a translation in 1945. I'm currently reading this translation, and, in being lazy, spent a portion of the evening trying to search for a public-domain version from which to copy and paste this quote. However, it looks like most public-domain versions out there are of a different translation, the Fayette Robinsion translation (done around the mid 1800's I believe--he died in 1859). I've never paid attention to different translations of foreign texts before, but even a quick skim through shows the difference the translator's perspective can have. Robinson's alternative translation of the above passage can be found here (scroll to the third essay down)--I wonder if I'm the only one to realize the amazing richness a food writer brought to the enjoyment of this text. (If you agree, and intend to ever read a copy of this tome, be sure to get your hands on a version of the MFK Fisher translation...it's well worth the hunt).

drive-by blogging: toronado

2008-01-21T19:09:00.000-08:00

Well, I might as well follow up my post about the new Liars Club with a post about what will possibly (?) be its central San Diego replacement.

Word on the street has been that Toronado is slated to open a San Diego branch in "early 2008." Having been there just once, I'm excited. I mean, look at what they have on draft in SF right now. (One can only surmise that most of those Nor. Cal. breweries will be So. Cal. breweries in the new location).

But, never content to rely on word on the street for more than a few weeks (I want answers, ok?) I sent a dispatch to San Francisco to get a firsthand report from the Toronado staff about the situation. (ok, he was going to SF anyway, and he was also going to Toronado anyway, but he promised me he'd ask.) The report? "Anyday now."

A report like "anyday" gets me excited, so I decided to dispatch myself to do a little investigating. Turns out "anyday" in Toronado bartender speak is a pretty liberal euphemism for, well...eventually.

Here's the building--it's on 30th between Lincoln and Polk

and here's what it looks like right now:

yep kids, looks like at least for a little while longer the forthcoming Toronado is pretty firmly rooted as a boarded up yoga studio.

the black marker on the sign is incredibly faded, but it definitely says Toronado. Here's some stellar photo editing for your enjoyment:

Anyway, look like the wait will be at least a few weeks longer. Luckily for anyone in the area, I recently discovered that the bike ride from Hillcrest to Hamilton's is incredibly do-able (and a mostly downhill ride that should definitely require a helmet). Just don't count on getting a cab within 40 minutes of when you decide you're ready to leave.

alright, well I think that's about enough citizen journalism for one day.

Brilliant

2008-01-18T22:47:00.000-08:00

totally off topic, but i have to express my respect for some joe strummer brilliance:

the diving bell and butterfly (warning, automatic sound) (trailer here also, i think, automatic sound) ends with joe strummer and the mescaleros's ramshackle day parade (one the also otherwise brilliant streetcore) running through the credits, and i have to admit, the movie sheds a considerable brilliance on the song...i mean, WOW. please watch the movie, and then please insist that the song be played at least five times in a row after that. then, if you're as sappy as me, relish, or at least notice, the tears streaming down yr face.

also, tom waits's all the world is green is equally amazing in the soundtrack (also plays in the credits, but there is another tom waits song that plays during the movie)

besides the soundtrack, this movie is absolutely amazing on it's own. based on a true story and what a story it is. i ran out today and added the book to my library reserve list (which is good, because i'm now number 12 on the new michael pollan book, so i need a few to distract me for a while).

anyway, i know a good number of you loyal readers will enjoy it if you get a chance. (the movie, not necessarily the strummer song, although that's amazing too)

Polito Farms featured in LA Times

2008-01-16T08:41:00.000-08:00

This time of year, I'm seriously addicted to citrus. I have been downing Satsuma tangerines and Valencia oranges from Polito Family Farms by the pound (I'm actually eating one now as I type). And it looks like I'm not alone--the LA Times food section this week has a nice feature on Bob Polito. Check it out: This Farmer Has a Zest for Experimentation.

The article highlights the history of his Vally Center farm, how he came to grow what he grows, and the importance of farmers' markets for farmer's financial success. Be sure to read to the end--the last section of the article gives an overview of the hardships farmers in San Diego County have faced over the past five years.

After you read the piece, be sure to check out Polito's produce first hand. They're at the Pacific Beach farmers' market every Saturday.

Also in today's LA Times food section is a great article on 100 things to do with a meyer lemon. Polito has them, if you're interested. They've got a thin rind, and are much sweeter than a typical lemon--you can eat a slice and not pucker up seconds after the juice hits your tastebuds. (I also happened to be gifted a gorgeous Meyer lemon tree last month, so I'm particularly excited to see this article.)

I'd love to see more articles like this in our papers. I was just having a conversation last night about how odd it is that while the chef seems to have reached celebrity status in our world, the growers of our food all too often pass by under the radar, unnamed and uncelebrated. You can't have chefs without food folks--here's to celebrating our growers.

It's a beautiful day in the Neighborhood!

2008-01-14T13:06:00.000-08:00

There's a sign on the door that promises new hours at Neighborhood, including a brief lunch hour from 12-2 (formerly it opened at 4pm daily). You will probably find me there Wednesday, which is when the new hours go into effect. Whohoo!

to Alpine we will go

2008-01-13T18:21:00.000-08:00

I've been disappointed at the lack of internet visuals regarding the new Liars Club Alpine location, so went on a little field trip yesterday to take care of that.

We took off during the afternoon, and the drive out the 8 was a breeze. No traffic, and once you get out of San Diego County, 70 mph speed limit signs. We even got a hint of scenery.

It took about 25 minutes to reach the Tavern Road exit (conveniently easy to remember, eh?)

And from the exit, it was less than 5 minutes to our first destination: Alpine Beer Company.

Alpine Beer Company is at 2351 Alpine Blvd, and is, in my book, an essential co-destination for anyone heading to the new Liar's Club. You literally have to pass it to get to the LCA (Liars Club Alpine), so you might as well stop. It's only open until 6, so plan accordingly (and bring a cooler in your car). Growler fills are some of the most reasonable around--I think it was around $9 for Pure Hoppiness and $8 of anything else (empty growlers cost $5). Several 22-ounce bottles were also available for about $4 each.

Tastings are $1 per beer, and we tried several before moving on down the road. Alpine is best known for their outstanding IPA's, but we were impressed by the Willy Vanilly, a vanilla wheat ale, and the Captain Stout, a delicious oatmeal chocolate stout. I would have tried several more had the Liars Club not been calling.

It's about a 3 minute drive from Alpine Beer Company to the LCA, but drive slowly--we almost missed the unassuming sign. There's no bright red paint, no flashing neon beer mugs, just a couple of black-and-white signs with the Liars Club logo. 2806 Alpine Blvd is a modest tan and wood space occupying the street-end spot of a small strip mall.

Sorry for the blurriness--like I said we almost missed the turn. We parked (yep kids, nothing to lure you to a bar like a parking lot!), and then came the moment I had been waiting for since November 9 (the day after the last time I went to the Mission Beach Liars Club): stepping inside.

I have to admit, the sensation was a bit eerie, like returning to your college town and showing up to your favorite bar only to realize it's not quite the same as it used to be. This was crisp, clean, shiny and new. Black ceilings and dark walls were nowhere to be found; instead their place stood gleaming white paint and clean exposed brick. Barstools were uniform, sleek and unwobbly; leather booths were free from rips and stains. Look around as we might, there were no sorts of shenanigans to be found.

Two things assuaged our resistance to change: seeing the line-up of taps within seconds of entering the door, and seeing a familiar bartender moments after that. Looking around, we found the jukebox selection and much of the artwork had also made the trek.

We saddled up to the bar--which with it's brand new, polished wood is perhaps the location's most sexy feature--and went straight for the familiar: two pints of Pliny the Elder, and $2 in the jukebox.

Then, we wasted no time getting to the food. Truth be told, there are so many solid beer bars in San Diego now that the trek to the LCA is hardly going to be about the beer for me (although the trek to the Alpine Beer Company always will be). Within the past few years San Diego has been graced with the opening of Hamilton's, Neighborhood, and (hopefully soon) Toronado; we've also come to rely on restaurants such as Ritual Tavern and the Linkery as ones whose beer selection will rival that of the food. We've of course, had our few standbys for some time--the drive to O'Briens or Downtown Johnny Browns now seems paltry compared to the hike out the 8. And there's always the breweries themselves--Ballast Point, Port Brewing, Coronado Brewery, and Alesmith are all far closer to central San Diego than Alpine is. Not to discount the Liars Club's beer selection, but what will lure me to the LCA will most likely not be the beer but the food.

Luckily, the only change to the bar menu is a slight expansion of offerings. This came as an enormous relief, as I've developed a serious, serious addiction to the Liar's Club's jalepeno-cheese bread. I imagine cravings for the Liars Club food are highly personal, so I'm happy to report that all the usual suspects are still there--fuego melt, cholula chicken, blta, sweet potato fries, etc.

As for the newbies, beer-battered artichoke hearts served with cholula ranch are a welcome addition, as is the offering of a grilled cheese sandwich, which appears on a kind-of-strange-to-see "kids menu." I didn't order it this time (I couldn't help but stick to the traditional), but the thought of a gooey, greasy grilled cheese on thick, toasted jalepeno-cheese-bread is enough to motivate my next trip.

As it was, we found our cravings immensely satisfied.
That's sweet potato fries accompanying a cholula chicken sandwich and cajun fries with a steak melt, both, of course, on nothing other than JCB. It was so satisfying after two whole months of denial that I contemplated ordering a third sandwich just to bring home to eat the next day. (I definitely regret not doing that).

So satisfaction with the trip? Definitely high. A few years ago I made the claim: "The Liars Club is one of the few bars to meet my triumvirate of conditions: an excellent selection of local brews, a kick ass jukebox that consistently plays good tunes no matter who's feeding it money, and a seriously addictive bar menu." The Liars Club Alpine undoubtedly has all that.

But, I realized as my jukebox selection ended and no one came up to take care of the silence, that there's something more than meeting the triumvirate of food, drink, and sound that makes a good bar good. And, while I have no doubt that the LCA will eventually have that, it's not quite there yet. Let's just say that while the LCA has heart, it's still doesn't quite have soul. (Is that too harsh to say just weeks after they opened?)

Don't get me wrong--I'm going to drive out there at least once a month (hey, there was a time I was heading to the old place several times a week). And I can't wait to see how the space shapes up. But they do have a lot of work ahead of them. I mean, just to put it in perspective, the Mission Blvd. location inhabited a space that was formerly home to a bar Tom Waits chose to work at--it had soul the moment it opened. The Alpine location, well it inhabited a space that was formerly home to a Boll Weevil.

But things seem promising. Tom Nickel walked in while we were there; the Alpine Beer Company employee who poured us our tastings earlier in the day soon followed. This will always be a destination for San Diego beer lovers--and no doubt Louis will keep an enticing selection peppered with beers that will lure us out every once in a while. Plus, once the live music thing starts up, it will probably become a destination worthy of an overnight stay.

But will we ever see moments like this again?:

(uh, yes, that's a guitar being played like a violin, by a man using a fiddle as a bow, all the while standing on a rickety bar stool...the Scotch Greens, Saint Patrick's Day at the Liars Club 2006)

Let's hope it happens, and let's hope I'm there to witness it. Until then, I'll keep feeding the jukebox, feeding myself jalepeno cheese bread, and waiting to see what happens.

a delicious transition

2008-01-13T18:11:00.000-08:00

I'm behind again on my blogging. Too many projects going on at once.

Didn't want to let two meals slip by unnoticed:

Last meal of 2007:

First meal of 2008:

Noooooo they be fellin mah trees

2008-01-08T09:23:00.000-08:00

During a Loaded Questions game on New Years Eve, I was asked "What is your greatest skill, one that you wouldn't hesitate to pit yourself up against anyone in the world?" My answer: sleeping. Seriously, I'm pretty damn good at it--once I'm out, I'm out like a light. I've slept through earthquakes, thunderstorms, and a cat repeatedly jumping on me from a windowsill (I've also slept through many an alarm...). Needless to say, I slept through much of the wind/rainstorms that hit San Diego this past weekend. What I saw during my waking hours was little more than a drizzle, and I assumed the rain that came was little more than harmless, much needed precipitation.

Unfortunately, I found out yesterday that there was a casualty of the storm.

RIP Morley Field Shoe Tree. We'll miss you! (photos; video)

UPDATE: more photos of the tree back in the day, via flickr

In Defense of Food

2008-01-02T12:42:00.000-08:00

So I'm sitting down to a lunch of leftover hoppin' john and collard greens (best new years day tradition ever) when I decide to catch up on some blogging from the past week. Over at the Slow Food Blog, I find some exciting news: Michael Pollan has a new book out. Being halfway through the Botany of Desire and having greedily polished off the Omnivore's Dilemma last year, I'd be excited to read anything new he wrote. Turns out the topic could not make me happier--the book addresses what to eat and why (which apparently can be answered in 7 words that I believe were first mentioned in the Omnivore's Dilemma: "Eat food. Not too much. Mostly plants.").

I'm off to the library to reserve a copy when it comes in. In the mean time, feast on the tempting summary and the book's introduction (pdf) on his website.

Thank you again Michael Pollan, for so boldly putting forth what needs to be said...

2008 Marketing Meme Prediction: Craft

2007-12-31T14:33:00.000-08:00

I spent an 18-hour journey back from Italy yesterday engrossed in what has so far proven to be one of the best reads of 2007: Garrett Oliver's The Brewmaster's Table: Discovering the Pleasures of Real Beer with Real Food.

Oliver is the brewmaster and founder of Brooklyn Brewery, a brewery that I hold particulary close to my heart, as it's beer was the first craft beer ever to touch my lips: over a summer I spent in NYC during college, the small bodegas near my aunt's apartment always had a steady supply of Brooklyn IPA (they also seemed to not care that I barely looked a day over 20). Later in college, Brooklyn's Pennant Pale Ale became my go-to beer of choice, as the bar I worked at always included it in its selection of 40 taps.

I dare say that moving to California, my biggest regret is the unavailability of Brooklyn Beer (thanks to distribution laws). (My biggest disappointment yesterday came during a layover in JFK when after combing the terminal for a bar serving up Brooklyn, finally finding one with Pennant Pale Ale on tap (whohoo!), then hearing the sickening words from the bartender's lips that they were out of it...as well as out of a solid east-coast-only second choice, Magic Hat #9.)

But back to the book. Within the first 50 pages, Oliver's words resonated with truth. One of my favorite quotes follows below, which Oliver so eloquently presents in the context of a brief history of American beer. Here's a recap:

According to Oliver, pre-prohibition brewing in the United States was a respectable endeavor, starting with homebrewing efforts during the revolutionary war (patriots faced a cut off of British beer supply), which quickly evolved to small brewing operations, which increased after a wave of German immigration in the 1830's to see an explosion of breweries catering to German-style beer. But then came prohibition, and with it's end, a change in the way American's viewed beer. Oliver explains of brewers eager to get back to their craft: "But their world had changed, and they soon found that they had to change with it. It had been thirteen long years, and many people were not feeling terribly picky about the flavor qualities of the beer that was now offered." This, coupled with the backlash of the depression (the need to keep the cost of beer down), the rise of soft drinks, which were actually seen as competition to beer, and laws that required alcohol levels to be below 3.2%, left the brewers with no choice but to make a very different beer than it's pre-prohibition and worldly counterparts. "American beer, now sold by huge advertising campaigns, moved swiftly away from its European roots."

And now for my favorite quote:

"By the end of World War II, the American brewing industry was transformed. It would be an industry of fewer and fewer breweries, which themselves grew to become national behemoths. The product, following the cultural norms of the day, would become innocuous and bland, to the extent that even brewers could barely tell the beers apart. Volume selling, driven by advertising, would take over as the number one goal of American brewers. The modern mass-market American lager beer, a watery, flavorless beverage unrecognizable to any visiting German, emerged into an American culinary landscape paved over by fast food restaurants, processed cheese, and frozen vegetables. After 10,000 years of flavorful brewing around the world,the American brewers had finally reduced the progenitor of human civilization to a pallid ghost in a can."

A pallid ghost in a can. That is what thousands of Americans have been content to drink for over half a century. SAB-Miller, Coors, Anheiser-Busch--all of these behemoths emerged from the post-WWII brewing strategy of quantity over quality and all of these behemouths have continued to serve up this pallid ghost for nearly 60 years. Why? Because they brew to demand, they market for profit, and for 60 years, this pallid ghost is what many Americans have been content to consider "beer." Sure, the mega-brewers have changed their products, and their marketing campaigns over time (certainly their marketing campaigns): American's on a diet? We'll invent light beer. American's want caffeine with their alcohol? Have a caffeinated beer. American's like small-batch, craft brews? Sure, we can do that too.

Record scratch.

Nope. You can't. You can't suddenly become a craftsman.

Throughout the disastrous reign of mega-breweries, American beer has thankfully had an alternative, a group of small brewers that have dedicated themselves to what Oliver refers to throughout his book as "real beer," beer that follows the thousands of years of brewing traditions. The rise of these small breweries, starting in the late 1970's, became what Oliver calls a "new age of American brewing." Not unlike early American brewing efforts, this movement started mostly thorough home brewing efforts, from people like Oliver who were seeking the tastes and pleasures unavailable through the products of large American breweries. Home brewing efforts naturally extended to small brewery operations, and soon America was populated with hundreds of craft brewers, all making beers according to their individual taste preferences.

"Craft Brewing" is the term that has arisen to describe these breweries, and it is particularly appropriate. Craft is a term that dates back thousands of years, to apply to the products made by hand or man-operated machinery before the industrial revolution and assembly line. Those who produce crafts earn the title of artisan or craftsman, often only after a rigorous apprentiship ensuring that they learned all aspects of the trade. The key idea behind craftsmanship was this training--you learned your craft through another craftsman and were taught not only the steps in producing the product but the pride in quality, in standing behind what you produced, and in support of fellow craftsman. As I said, you can't become a craftsman overnight.

According to the Brewer's Association, Craft Beer is defined as the product of a brewing operation that is small, independent, and traditional. Unfortunately, "craft" seems to be the buzz word usurped by many a mega-brewery. Sure you can take your industrial assembly line and use it to produce craft-like products, but this doesn't make you a craftsman. And it doesn't make what you produce craft.

Realizing that Americans want craft--that we want to relish flavor and quality, want to experience the particular nuances of a finely hopped beer, want to sample seasonal offerings and annual brews, and most importantly want to know who is making their beer and how--does not mean you are qualified to become a craftsman. And it certainly does not mean that you can claim the beer you are producing is a craft beer.

I know that some people have reviewed certain mass-produced specialty beers positively, citing taste alone as the deciding factor. If a mega-brewery can produce a tasteworthy small-batch brew, who cares about anything else? they claim. I disagree wholeheartedly. It's not just about taste. It's about integrity. It's about knowing that the person who is brewing the beer you are drinking cares passionately about the final product, and that they are doing it for a love of the craft, not just for the profits.

I am afraid, however, that 2008 is going to see a lot of these so-called craft imitators. And I urge you against buying into the marketing hype. If a beer has to advertise that it is "artfully crafted," it's going to make me doubt that it actually was. Advertisements like this make me cringe:

Hand-crafted products have a quality that is self-evident. An attention to detail, a slight imperfection here or there. And above all, a truthfulness about them that can only come from making a product that you are proud of. My resolution this year is to dedicate myself to true craftsmanship, to steer clear of the pallid imitators, and to realize the difference between the two. I hope you will join me.

more me!

2007-12-13T22:39:00.000-08:00

In an of-course-i-have-time-for-this moment, I volunteered to be a guinea pig for a new accidental hedonist project--the "food diaries."

I'm not exactly sure what my "food diary" will shape up to be, but you can now find (and rss) more of my food-related musings at accidentalhedonist.com/duffystar.

this song is for you my brother

2007-12-12T21:51:00.000-08:00

Sometimes the news doesn't really hit home until someone smacks ...you in the face ... with it.

The Liars Club in Mission Beach is hova. I've known this for weeks, sadly craning my neck as I ride by, only to see dark windows and barstools stacked upon tables. But until I received the bargoer email a week or so back, I still had a glimmer of hope.

Now hope is gone. This hits home, hard, because I happen to live a mile away from 3844 Mission, and also happen to have a good percentage of disdain for everything else that I live within a mile of. Without this neighborhood oasis, I no longer think there is a single place in my neighborhood I now care to patronize after 8 pm.

If I was as talented as the Jim Carrol band, I'd hum a catchy little tune for my long lost neighborhood bar. Since I can't carry a tune worth a damn, I'm posting a yet-unpublished and now-never-to-be review of the place I did back in August. When I'm feeling nostalgic in the future, I'll have something to look back on.

Thanks for all the beers and the BLTA's Louis. Maybe one day I'll see you in Alpine.

* * *

The Liars' Club holds a special place in my heart. It’s not because of its history—although Tom Waits did used to work the door at 3844 Mission Blvd. It’s not because of its jukebox, although the punk-inspired selection is beyond credible. It’s not even because of its menu, whose irresistible sandwiches, burgers, munchies, and salads I am seriously addicted to. It is because of its taps, its chalkboard menu of rotating craft and Belgian beers, its weekly Friday-evening cask, and its disdain for anything remotely affiliated with Bud, Miller, or Coors. The Liars' Club holds a special place in my heart because it introduced me to beer. Good beer. San Diego beer.

The setting is basement-meets-roadhouse, a sparsely decorated space with a hint of a hardcore vibe. The staff is tattooed and casual, often blending in with the patrons themselves. The floors are dark, the ceiling painted black. The booths and mismatched bar stools are upholstered in cracking vinyl and the table tops covered with forest-green Formica. Whitewashed brick walls are sparsely adorned with typical bar kitsch—a dartboard, framed prints, brewery paraphernalia. Mounted televisions hang just beneath the ceiling, unobtrusive enough to be ignored, but large enough to show any necessary sports games. The setting is little more than functional, and that is all it needs to be—the important thing here is not the scene but the senses, particularly those of taste and hearing.

Let’s talk music. The jukebox is award-winning, if not legendary. It’s populated with solid albums and compilations that cover just about every type of drinking occasion the bar could witness. The collection of punk, rock, and blues includes songs to appease every type of drinker: the angry (the Ramones, Sex Pistols), the celebratory (the Replacements), the down and out (Nick Cave, Tom Waits), the esoteric (Thelonious Monk), the restless (the Clash), the exulted (New York Dolls), the theatrical (Gogol Bordello), the unabashedly reminiscent (David Bowie, Blondie). There are albums for early afternoon (Rolling Stones), late night (James Brown), and happy hour (Lady Dottie and the Diamonds). There’s a soundtrack for the drinking binge (the Pogues, local band the Scotch Greens), the hangover (Jesus and Mary Chain), even the wake (Jim Carroll Band).

Before you feed your two dollars into the jukebox though, you’d better have a beer in your hand. Go ahead, saunter up to the chalkboard hanging above the kitchen—what’s on tap is on the left; what’s in bottles is on the right. As for the taps, you’ll find the list divided into two categories: local and everything else (with local more often than not being the larger list). If you’re overwhelmed—or if it’s Friday (local beer night)—you needn’t look beyond the locals: Stone, Green Flash, and Alpine are almost always represented; Ballast Point, AleSmith, Coronado Brewing Company, and Port Brewing usually make an appearance. Of course, venturing into non-local territory is never bad—Russian River, Avery, North Coast, and Bear Republic are solid northerly neighbors. As with all reputable San Diego beer bars, the hops are well-represented—a solid selection of IPAs and double IPAs are always on tap, and Pliny the Elder and Pure Hoppiness—two gold standards—are near-regulars. Belgian and Belgian-style beers are embraced too, especially through the bottled beer selection. And, for the timid, a solid selection of pale ales, American-style whites, and occasionally a lager or a cider can be found. If you see something unfamiliar or if you’re looking for a particular style, just ask—the staff is more than willing to chat about the beer.

With your thirst quenched, your ears happy, and hopefully a seat underneath you, the menu calls. The kitchen is adept at both meals and munchies, with a menu so solid that I'd back nearly anything on it. The portions are generous and the flavors are feisty—if you like spicy food you’re in good hands. A little insider advice? Order your sandwiches on jalapeño cheese bread and your fries Cajuned. Try the sweet potato fries, and for the sheer ridiculousness of it, the hand-cut fries smothered with bacon. The BLTA is classic, the seared ahi sandwich phenomenal, and the roast beef dip and cholula ranch burger both more than solid. If you’re feeling daring, order the popular (but painfully hot) fuego melt, whose Serrano and jalapeño-inspired heat advertises itself with the phrase "feel the burn twice." If you’re weary of heartburn, the salads are surprisingly good, any burger can be Boca-fied, and the kitchen can always hold the chipotle aioli. Whatever you do, if you’re there on a weekend before 3 p.m., do not pass up a bloody Mary—garnished with two bacon-wrapped shrimp, these ladies are the best in town.

If you're asking yourself "what's not to like?" the answer is, occasionally, the crowds—the Liars' Club's popularity doesn't mesh well with its size. The small venue—it holds just nine tables inside, five on the outdoor deck, and about ten seats at the bar—fills quickly, and once it’s filled, you can forget about it emptying. Friday nights are the most crowded, although they are also the most attractive: “Local Beer Night" means $3 local pints and a weekly cask that's tapped at 5:00 p.m., sharp. It's one of the best deals in town, and depending on the cask, it can be well worth fighting the crowds for. Tuesday nights are a close second, with $3 “you-call-it’s” that not only attract the beer lovers but anyone in town looking for a cheap drink.

But let’s face it—crowds are hardly a reason to stay away from one of the top five on-tap beer selections in San Diego. After all, it’s well worth waiting your turn for a pint of cask-conditioned Ballast Point Sculpin IPA or Alesmith Summer YuleSmith. But if can’t fit through the door on a Friday evening, don’t’ give up on the Liar’s Club. Other nights of the week are much calmer, and still easily affordable—Monday's Steak and Ale promotions means a $10 steak dinner, and any weekday means happy hour from 4-7. Even on a Saturday night, beers are only $3.25 to $5.50.

Some would argue the beer alone is worth the trip to the Liar’s Club, and I’d have to agree. But while beer may attract the first-timers, it’s much more than beer that keeps the regulars happy. Once you’re settled into a booth in the heart of the bar, with the Replacements blaring, a fresh pint of West Coast IPA set before you, and a mouth full of the unbeatable combination of bacon and jalepeño cheese bread, you’ll understand.

Local, East Coast Style

2007-12-02T21:28:00.000-08:00

The very first time I waxed poetic about eating locally, I got a response along the lines of: "You're so lucky you can do that. You live in California." It was the middle of winter, and I'm sure the person who said that pictured idyllic gardens and 70-degree days.

I had to admit Southern California offered some damn good produce, but luck? Was that really the deciding factor?

That was over a year ago, and I admit I didn't have an answer. That was before I participated in One Local Summer and kept watch over east coast participation; and before I read about Joel Salatin and his amazing Virginia farm in the Omnivore's Dilemma.

A year later, armed with a bit more knowledge and a lot more determination, I finally had the opportunity to prove that luck had nothing to do with local. My extended East Coast Thanksgiving trip last week culminated in a meal so delicious, so hearty, and so entirely local it made me the envious one.

The meal started two days before Thanksgiving, when I flew into JFK with three priorities: seeing a good friend, seeing a good band, and hitting up the Union Square Greenmarket. (I would soon be heading to New Jersey for Thanksgiving and had promised to make the vegetable dishes). Two reusable bags full of butternut squash, brussels sprouts, heirloom carrots, garlic, herbs, and onions later, I stumbled on the biggest discovery of my year: locally grown and milled grains. OMG, FLOUR!, I exclaimed as I rushed toward the stall, leaving a somewhat bewildered friend to hurry along behind me. Yes, I got that excited about flour. And polenta. Both were produced by Wild Hive Farm in Clinton Corners, NY. "Small batch milling from our micro mill," the packages explained. I was ecstatic--this was the first time I had come across local grains, and they were grains milled just nine miles from where they were grown! Eating on the east coast was starting to look good.

With a bag of polenta and a bag of organic stone ground hard red spring wheat (recommended for baking bread) stashed in my suitcase, I came to Virginia three days later, not done with my local explorations. (Meanwhile, on Thanksgiving, the local brussels sprouts, squash, and carrots were the talk of the table).

Sunday morning, I dragged a second friend to a second market: the Fresh Farm Market at Dupont Circle in Washington, DC. Let me just say, east coast local naysayers, that the produce offerings looked straight out of San Diego--including fresh tomatoes, greens, and herbs. These made possible by many growers who turned to greenhouses when the summer reached its end. I was tempted by every stall, but the biggest surprise of the market (for a San Diego locavore, at least) was the meat: lamb, whole chickens, fresh Chesapeake crab. I was in carnivore heaven. And then I spied the pastured pork.

Pastured meat is the term used for meat that has been raised by traditional, non-industrial methods, an unfortunate rarity in our modern food system. Pastured animals are allowed to roam free on open land, are fed a grass-based diet, and are raised without hormones, antibiotics, or feed additives. The best explanation I've found for the differences in industrial and pastured meat is Jay Porter's at the Linkery; another excellent explanation of the benefits of pastured meat can be found at Sustainable Table. Anyone looking for local pastured meat, as well as eggs and dairy, should check out the Eat Wild website.

The pastured meat I found was from David Ober and Sheila Goodman at Cedarbrook Farm in West Virginia. Their offerings at the Dupont Market made me wish I was staying in Virginia for longer--many of the cuts available were roasts that allowed for upwards of 16 hours slow cooking time. Just imagining the taste of a 24-hour spice-rubbed shoulder roast made my mouth water. (David had recipes available at his booth, which didn't help curb my salivation). Alas, as I had a mere 24 hours left in my trip, I settled for bone-in loin slices and seasoned sausage. I was not disappointed.

I came home to my parent's house with an arsenal of local goods: pastured pork chops and sausage; apples and pears from Quaker Valley Orchards in Biglerville, PA; German butterball potatoes, onions, leeks, and spinach. My only regret was not having enough cash on me to bring home one of the amazing array of goat cheeses that I sampled. Oh, and also forgetting to return to the crab cake booth and bring home fresh Chesapeake crab cakes (sorry Mom!). Spreading my array on the counter, I added the leftover garlic, shallots, rosemary, and sage from the Union Square Greenmarket, and cracked open the bag of polenta. I had a plan, and dinner would be ready in 2 hours.

Polenta, Pear, and Sausage Stuffing (inspiration/adapted from here and here )

For Polenta
1 cup cornmeal
4 cups water
salt, to taste
1 Tbsp. butter
1 tsp. sage
1 tsp. parsley

For Stuffing
1 pound sausage
2 Tbsp. butter
1/2 sweet onion, diced
1 leek, white part only, sliced thin
2 bosc pears, peeled, cored, and diced into 1/2 inch pieces
2 tbsp fresh sage, dieced fine
3/4 cup white wine

Make polenta (I rely on the America's Test Kitchen technique) by bringing water and salt to boil, slowly whisking in polenta, turning heat down to low and cooking for 30 minutes, stirring frequently to ensure polenta does not burn.
remove from heat and stir in 1 Tbsp. butter, 1 tsp. sage, 1 tsp. rosemary, plus salt and pepper to taste.
spread in 9x13 dish and chill in fridge for at least 15 minutes, until cool.

While polenta is cooling, brown sausage over medium heat. remove and set aside
in same pot, drain sausage grease. add 1 tbsp. butter, saute onions and leeks until translucent, about 10 minutes
add garlic, saute 30 seconds until fragrant
add pears and sage. saute 5 minutes
add white wine and bring to boil. turn heat to medium-low and cook until liquid is reduced to almost gone
add sausage back to skillet and stir to combine.

remove skillet from heat and set aside

turn polenta out onto cutting board.
divide into thirds, mash one third with a fork and stir into sausage mixture
slice remaining 2/3 into 1/2 inch squares. toss with 1 tbsp. melted butter
broil squares for 3-5 minutes, until slightly firm.

mix polenta squares with sausage mixture and bake in 9x13 casserole for 20 minutes, covered. remove foil, cook for 10 more minutes, uncovered.

Skillet Pork Chops
I turn to the masters for my meat recipes: America's Test Kitchen. Unfortunately, their recipes are closely guarded by a subscription-based website (including the recipe I used for Skillet-Barbequed Pork Chops. Fortunately (ahem), lots of other sites seem to defy their copyrights, and post their reliable recipes. Here's a recap of the Skillet-Barbequed Pork Chop recipe I followed for the pork, although I omitted the sauce and just used the brine and the rub--the flavor of the pastured pork was so amazing that it required no sauce.

Smashed Potatoes
An old standby from my One Local Summer meals--recipe here.

Sauteed Spinach with Caramelized Onions
1/2 onion, sliced
1 tsp plus 1 tbsp oil
2 garlic cloves
1/2 pound spinach
arugula for plating (optional)

In small saucepan, heat 1 tsp. oil over medium heat. Add onions and cook 5 minutes stirring occasionally. Cover, reduce heat to low, and cook, 30-45 minutes, until onions are wilted and brown,and slightly sweet.

5 minutes before serving, heat remaining Tbsp. of oil over medium heat. Add garlic and sautee for 30 seconds. Add spinach and cook for 3 minutes, until all spinach is wilted. Add salt and pepper to taste.

To serve, plate spinach atop bed of arugula, and top with caramelized onions.

Note: I desperately want to post photos of this meal, but my computer seems to not be recognizing my camera's memory card right now...photos hopefully to follow!

Get thee to a bussery

2007-11-08T08:32:00.000-08:00

That's right kids. Take the bus today.

Apparently Washington Mutual is sponsoring bus fares today, which means that today's bus rides are free! So if you're contemplating heading out for lunch, or heading down to Canes for the Hold Steady concert this fine evening, give the old public transit a try (the 8 or 9 from Old Town will get you to that last one).

And remember, Google Maps now has an integrated transit feature for San Diego. Use it to get directions and click on the "take public transit" option to see what bus to take and when. Use the "options" feature to change the departure or arrival time.

My $2.25 savings is going toward a pint of Green Flash at the Liars Club before the show. What will you do with $2.25?

Laundry Soup

2007-10-30T22:24:00.000-07:00

There will always be times in life when we just really don't want to be doing what we happen to be doing. For me, that time comes about once every two weeks, when it's time to do laundry. But fear not my fellow laundry-despising friends. For when life hands you laundry, you can now make: Laundry Soup.

With fall in the air, and root vegetables on the farmer's market stalls, I found myself this week with a fridge full of produce begging to be spun into a deserving meal. And tonight was the only evening I knew I would have time to spend in the kitchen, but it was also the only evening I would have time for the dreaded chore. Knowing I would be pulled away from the kitchen at least twice, I needed something easy to prepare but slow to cook, that could work around my quick dashes to the laundromat. And then I had a plan: the laundry went in, the vegetables were chopped, the laundry was changed, the vegetables went into the pot, the laundry folded, and voila, dinner was ready.

It was a dinner so worthy of its ingredients that I may never look down upon doing laundry again.

Laundry Soup

1 tbsp olive oil
1 tbsp. butter
1 red onion, diced coarsely
3 small carrots, chopped
1 bunch turnips, stems removed, washed and chopped
3 cloves garlic
4 strips bacon, sliced
5 small potatoes, chopped into 1/2" pieces (I used a mix of red and yukon gold)
32 oz. chicken broth or stock
1 bay leaf
3 sprigs thyme
1 15-ounce can cannelloni beans, rinsed
1 bunch swiss chard or other greens, coarsely chopped (I used a mix of chard and mustard greens)

heat olive oil and butter in a large stockpot over medium heat, until butter bubbles slightly. Add onion and saute for 5 minutes, being careful not to brown. Add carrots and turnips and cook for 8 minutes longer, until vegetables are soft. Add garlic and saute for 30 seconds or until fragrant. Add potatoes and cook for 3 minutes, stirring occasionally.

Meanwhile, heat a heavy bottomed skillet over medium heat until just smoking. Add bacon and cook 3-5 minutes until partially cooked but not crisp. Add bacon to pot of vegetables, reserving bacon grease in skillet for later.

Add chicken broth, bay leaf, and thyme and bring to a rapid simmer. Reduce heat to medium low and continue to simmer, covered, 15-20 minutes, or until potatoes are cooked through. Stir occasionally, making sure liquid does not come to a full boil. When potatoes are cooked through, add beans. With a wooden spoon, carefully crush 1/3 to 1/2 of potato chunks against side of pot, until soup consistency reaches desired thickness. (For a thicker soup, crush more potatoes, for a more watery soup, crush less).

Meanwhile, in skillet used to prepare bacon, reheat bacon grease. Add chard or greens and saute 2-3 minutes, until slightly wilted. Add greens to pot and stir to incorporate. Simmer soup for 5-10 minutes longer, and remove from heat. Let stand 5-10 minutes, covered. Remove bay leaf and thyme springs and serve in heaping bowls.

Why caring about what you eat is not pretentious.

2007-10-12T17:57:00.000-07:00

I ended up in somewhat of an accidental argument yesterday with an acquaintance who I both like and respect. He's a talented home brewer, a devoted beer enthusiast, and I admire and share his passion for craft beer. But when our conversation turned to one of the local breweries yesterday, we started butting heads.

"Oh, I hate the restaurant there," he bemoaned, referring to a local brewery's fairly new restaurant on their premises. "I don't know who they think they are. Everything is so pretentious."

Normally one to let little things slide, especially when drinking with friends, I just couldn't let this one past me. "I happen to like the restaurant," I piped up, "and I respect what their doing with their food."

And with that I opened one momentous can of worms. It wasn't that I felt the need to defend the restaurant, or convince him that it was a place he should give a second chance. I understood his complaints--that for a restaurant connected to a brewery, it hardly catered to the typical beer-drinking brewery-goer. The food was expensive, the dishes leaned toward that of a restaurant rather than a pub, and there was little on the menu that was a particularly good accompaniment to beer (well, maybe I didn't agree with that last one). This was all fine with me--I certainly wasn't going to defend the restaurant against any of these complaints. What I did feel the need to argue against--and why I absolutely couldn't justify keeping my mouth shut--was his claim that the restaurant was pretentious.

I may be opening another can of worms, but I feel the need to explain my belief that caring about the food you eat, or in this case serve, is completely devoid of pretension.

The restaurant in question is one that has a quite open and adamant preference for sustainable food. The owner of the brewery is a supporter of Slow Food, and the restaurant is making a conscious effort to serve "good, clean, and fair" food. Their menus inform guests of this, with each menu item described in great detail including quite often the source of its ingredients. They explain that their meats are raised without antibiotics or hormones, that their produce is organic or local and not genetically engineered, that their cheeses are artisan and hand made. The intentions behind the food are explained up front, which means that guests who dine there are asked to think about the food they are eating.

This is far from pretense. This is pride, yes. But it is pride in a good way, as in "we are so happy with the ingredients we procure and the dishes we prepare that we want to share this information with you." This is not an attempt to be elite, or exclusive, or high and mighty. If anything, it is the opposite. This is an attempt to inform, so that when people taste what is being offered, they will begin to understand why a dish tastes the way it does. Doing this even involves a degree of humbleness, showing that the taste of a dish doesn't necessarily come from the kitchen, it comes from the farm; that quality comes not from the restaurant but from the ingredients used. But most importantly, this is an act of introducing, an attempt of someone who believes passionately in something to introduce those concepts to others, because they believe there are others out there who might benefit or be interested, or maybe even agree.

I'm no longer talking specifically about this one restaurant. Wanting to eat sustainably raised or artisanal food is no more pretentious than any other specialized diet, which is to say it is not pretentious at all. Vegetarianism is hardly an attempt to be elite or exclusive--it stems from personal beliefs and is a personal act of living out those beliefs. Kosher diets are entirely similar. Fasting for religious purposes has not an ounce of selfishness in it. Restricting your diet to lose weight does not mean you are "above" eating dessert or greasy food; it simply means you are denying yourself of them. For christ's sake, even refusing to eat carbohydrates was (briefly) accepted as the most natural thing in the world. Basing what you eat on where the ingredients come from and how they were raised is just one of many ways approach the food choices that we make.

And we all make choices. The daily decision of what to eat is one of the most ubiquitous issues in our culture. We all need to make this decision, and we need to make it multiple times a day. We not only need to eat a certain amount of food to live, but we need to eat a certain amount of certain types of foods, with certain nutrients, to keep our bodies functioning properly. Yet there is no hard and fast rule about what exactly we need to live--we can adapt to a wide variety of diets, foods, and amounts of it and still get along just fine. Because of this, because we can survive whether we eat 1000 calories a day or 3000, whether we make time in the morning to eat a breakfast of eggs and bacon or grab a granola bar on the way out the door, whether we carefully prepare our dinner or dine out every night, the act of eating necessarily involves making decisions every single day.

There are so many factors that go into this decision that it's impossible to even compile them all. The main ones, of course, include taste, cost, and nutritional value, factors which vary in their importance from person to person and even from meal to meal. Other factors range from ones completely out of our hands--such as the marketing campaigns we're exposed to-- to ones we hold close to our heart, such as our preference for our mother's macaroni and cheese over all other versions. Among these factors, although perhaps not one of the obvious ones, is the factor of impact: the amount of resources the things we eat require to reach the point where they are ready to consume.

I understand that this is something that the majority of people out there don't ever think about. It's also not something that's easy to understand, or even to quantify. It's not clear whether the ecological impact of orgainically-raised grass-fed cows from New Zealand flown halfway around the world is more or less than that of corn-fed cows driven just 1,000 miles from slaughterhouse to plate. And its certainly not a convenient thing to think about, especially when you're really hungry. But it is one which some of us choose to consider when selecting our food.

Personally, I want to eat food that has been prepared with passion and intention, by someone who cares about food as much as I do and with ingredients that were grown and raised for taste rather than for profit or convenience. I want to keep corporate interests and profit margins away from my dinner table, and I believe the best way to do this is to seek out producers, purveyors, and restaurants that share my beliefs. I want to buy from the underdog--the small farmer that realizes government-endorsed pesticides may not be the best option, the rancher that works twice as hard to grass feed his animals, the artisan cheese maker that spends hours turning out a product that can be mass produced for less time and less money, purely for the pleasure in doing so. When I spend money to eat food from these sources, I'm not doing it because I consider them "better," or because I consider myself "above" their mass produced counterparts, but because I want to support the individuals whose values are aligned with mine and whose actions and intentions I can support.

I understand there are people out there who view food completely differently, who want their meals quick and efficient, or who care about taste more than cost, or cost more than nutrition, or nutrition more than taste. I know there are people who can't stand certain foods, and who love the taste of others. I understand that regardless of what we decide to eat or why we decide it, we're all making these decisions. In this way, we're all equal--we all ultimately satisfy our own hunger and none of us are better than anyone else because of what thoughts run through our mind when we go about accomplishing this basic, essential human need. No matter what we think and how many factors we consider when choosing our dinner, it is not pretentious that we care about what we eat.

American cuisine?

2007-09-13T19:02:00.001-07:00

The James Beard Foundation has an interesting poll on its website right now, which is kind of fun to think about. In conjunction with their Taste America celebration, they are asking visitors to share their thoughts on what comprises American cuisine. I liked taking the survey just for the challenge of thinking about what indeed makes up traditional American food. Take the survey here.

readymade frenzy

2007-09-10T21:23:00.000-07:00

yesterday was a solid day. I discovered that my favorite inspiring DIY mag, ReadyMade, now archives all of its past issues online. If you are remotely DIY-inclined, this is huge. I happily spent the afternoon drooling over potential projects, even if I passed over most of them due to lack of time/power tools/skills. This one, however, I couldn't resist: the plastic bag bag. In a witty twist on materials, the bag takes the ubiquitous disposable shopping bag and reinterprets it as fabric, sewing patches of thick, doubled-over plastic bag together to create a permanent handbag.

I switched to reusable grocery bags over a year ago and consider myself (almost) fully trained to grab my canvas tote before heading out the door. Even with the best of intentions, though, I manage to come home with a plastic bag now and then, and feel guilty when I stare at the accumulating pile waiting to be recycled. Remorse no longer-I will now be collecting a stash to sew into a handbag when the pile gets large enough.

May the DIY mindset last as long as those indestructible plastic bags do!

San Diego Breweries

2007-09-10T06:40:00.001-07:00

Also, trailing on yesterday's post, here's a little map I put together of many of San Diego's breweries (blue markers) and solid places to sample their beers (red markers). Enjoy!

View Larger Map

liquid sustenance

2007-09-09T17:49:00.000-07:00

I spent yesterday afternoon at the Stone 11th anniversary bash, a highly worthwhile adventure. $30 bought a ticket into the festival, which included 10 3-ounce samplings, with over 30 breweries and well over 100 brews to choose from. I also opted to take the O'Brien's bus up to the festival (a friend drove us back) meaning that several additional beers were added to the day's sampling...

Here's what my day consisted of:

9:45 (on tap at O'Briens) Blind Pig IPA (Russian River Brewery) one of the best of the best, as far as I'm concerned. A classic and near-perfect double IPA, inspired after the very first of its kind-the first of its kind being a double IPA brewed by Vinnie Cilurzo of the (now defunct) Blind Pig Brewery in Temecula, CA (Vinnie later moved on to become head brewer of Russian River, hence the homage). And, ok, a little more San Diego beer history trivia: legend has it that the very last growler of the very last batch of Plind Pig IPA was sold to Greg Koch, aka Stone Brewery's founder. (My late afternoon investigating skills - read: confronting Greg Koch- confirmed the rumor to be true). Anyway, the Blind Pig IPA set the standards high for the rest of the day.

10:15 am (on the bus) Alpine Ale (Alpine Beer Company, Alpine, CA) Alpine is best known for their Pure Hoppiness, and seemed a fitting brewery to begin the day (especially as they were not represented at the anniversary celebration. The Ale was the first taste of other Alpine offerings I'd tried. It's an extra pale ale, pretty tasty--well worth sampling if you come across it!

11:00 (still on the bus, waiting for the line to die down) Lightning Pilsner (Lightning Brewery, Poway, CA) This was apparently reserved for the bus ride home, but got tapped early. While Lightning is local for me, I had not yet sampled their wares. I have a fond place in my heart for pilsner (having spent a semester in the Czech Republic, home to the original Pilsner Urquell and Budvar), and this one did not disappoint.

11:15 Dorado IPA (Ballast Point Brewery, San Diego, CA) Probably my favorite local brewery; this is one of their most solid Double IPA's, well received by many. (I was hoping for a sampling of Sculpin IPA or Victory at Sea, but no such luck)

11:15 Lightning IPA (Lightning Brewery, Poway, CA) My goal throughout the day was to sample beers I had not before tried (with exceptions for some of the good ones) This one was a bonus--it was also local!

11:45 Koningshoeven Trappest Quadrupel (brewery De Koningshoeven, Holland) I was determined to step outside of my hoppy comfort zone, and settled on the sweet nectar from this Dutch brewery.

12:00 Stone 11th Anniversary on cask with Chinook and Amarillo hops. Hands-down the best beer I sampled all day.

12:15 Pig Dog Pale Ale (Port Brewing, San Marcos, CA)- I loved the description-full of hops but not that full of alcohol. At the moment, it hit the spot.

12:30 Avery White Rascal (Avery Brewing, Boulder, CO) Wow. THE perfect beer for a hot summer afternoon. Spiced with coriander and orange, it was refreshing with every sip.

12:45 San Diego Brewing Hypnotic IPA (San Diego Brewing Company, San Diego, CA). Another local brewery that I had not yet had the pleasure of sampling, and another that I'm now looking forward to visiting.

1:00 Ommegang Abby Ale (Ommegang Brewery, Cooperstown, NY). I admit it, I'm a hop head, and prefer IPAs to Belgian-style brews. That said, this was still worthy of sampling.

1:20 Stone 11th Anniversary on cask with Simcoe & Summit hops. Delicious, but not as good as the Amarillo and Chinook version!

1:30 TAPS Fish House & Brewery Thomas Jefferson Ale (Taps Fish House & Brewery, Brea, CA). So, I encountered these guys, (arriving separately, both sporting tshirts from Charlottesville institutions) and was instantly reminded of Virgina. TAPS claims this style beer is akin to one TJ himself brewed at Monticello 200 years ago.

1:45 Alesmith IPA (Alesmith Brewing, Mira Mesa, CA). Ok, so faced with dwindling tasting tickets left, toward the end of the session I abandoned my plan of sampling beers I hadn't before tasted and opted for guaranteed satisfaction. I was hoping for Summer Yulesmith, but in its absence, Alesmith IPA will always do.

1:55 Stone IPA on cask- a fitting end to the day.

Also sampled throughout the day were Mike's Beer Cheese, made by Stone's webmaster with Stone beer, and Arrogant Bastard smoked almonds, from San Marcos Trading Company.

Sometimes San Diego seems like such an amazing place to be.

Surprise! New look

2007-08-28T19:49:00.000-07:00

7:50 and the sun is long gone. Last night's full moon was briefly eclipsed. A winnebago just hit my house (yes, a winnebago just HIT MY HOUSE). I finally listened to Tommy McLain singing Before I Grow Too Old. In a sudden onset of capriciousness, I changed this blog's template. Stranger things have happened.

OLS week #9

2007-08-26T20:31:00.000-07:00

I haven't been this excited all summer folks. This week, my local meal featured....PIG!

I go up to LA at least once every two months, mostly cajoled by a group of friends who come up with one excuse or another to lure us up there. By default, I often end up crashing at a friends studio apartment in West Hollywood. Little did I know until my last trip up there that there is a Sunday morning farmers' market less than a mile from his house!

I was lucky enough to stay with some gracious family friends of a friend two weeks ago, who live in the Hollywood hills. Well into our Saturday evening, after a delicious dinner and a considerable amount of wine, they mentioned they were going to the farmers' market early the next morning, inviting anyone daring enough to wake up at 8 the next morning to come along. "Ooh, I'll come with you," I piped up. I think they were surprised when I held true to my promise the next morning.

The Hollywood farmers' market--the largest farmers' market in LA I'm told--puts any farmers' market I've gone to to shame. In size alone, it spans at least 10 city blocks, a size which is only matched by annual street fairs in San Diego, not weekly events. Giddy with delight, I quickly got lost in the myriad of booths, gladly accepting samples, stopping where ever I could to talk with farmers and vendors. Entering with $40 in my wallet--an amount I knew I could spend quite quickly--I decided to only purchase goods that I had not come across in San Diego. That ruled out most of the tempting, gorgeous produce, although it didn't stop me from looking and drooling. Then I came across Rocky Canyon Farms.

Three coolers sat in a row, each swarmed by crowds of people, looking through the frozen, individually vacuum sealed pieces of meat inside. A price sheet in front of each cooler suggested what lay inside--steaks, chops, ribs. I patiently waited my turn, eagerly digging my hands into the cold packages in each cooler. I emerged, delighted with two plump pork chops, a ham hock, a pound of shoulder bacon and a package of beef short ribs (the steaks, of course, all looked tempting, but would with my $40 budget would have put an end to my spending). Continuing down the line, I found another gem--dried beans. Armed with red beans and black beans, I continued on, grabbing a bottle of apple cider vinegar, and because I couldn't help myself, a basket of baby artichokes and another of brussel sprouts.

Unfortunately, I forgot the veggies in a fridge in LA. The meat and beans, however, gloriously made the drive home. I've gone all summer, disappointingly, without local meat, and this was cause for celebration. Inspired, here's what became of my LA farmers market finds:

Pan-seared pork chops with red wine fig reduction
Corn, shoulder bacon, and tomato stuffed zucchini
Pork and maple baked beans

Pan-seared pork chops with red wine fig reduction
A few days before I planned to prepare the pork chops, I stumbled upon the most delicious figs I'd tasted in my life. Determined to pair the two together, I was disappointed to find many of the fig + pork chop recipes I came across used chicken stock in the sauce (here and here). In searching for an alternative to using stock I came across this, a dessert recipe that served figs in a red wine reduction. Thus my recipe was born.

Figs and Red Wine Reduction
fresh zest from one lemon
6 black peppercorns
1 tsp. cinnamon

1 cup dry red wine
1/3 cup water
2 tbsp sugar

1 shallot, diced
4 fresh Calimyrna figs, cut into sixths
juice from 1/2 a lemon
1 tsp honey

Tie zest and peppercorns together in a cheesecloth bag. Bring wine, water, sugar, cinnamon and cheesecloth bag to a boil in a 1 1/2-quart heavy saucepan, stirring until sugar is dissolved. Boil syrup until reduced to about 1 1/2 cups, 8 to 10 minutes. Remove from heat and reserve. When pork is done, remove pork from pan, add 1/2 tbsp butter, shallot and cook for 1-2 minutes, unitil soft. add reduction and bring to boil. Add figs, reduce heat to low and simmer uncovered 5-10 minutes. Remove figs and cheesecloth bag and stir lemon juice, honey and 1 tbsp butter into fig mixture. continue to simmer until spoon leaves clean trail across bottom of pan. Spoon figs atop pork chops and drizzle with sauce.

Pan Seared Pork Chops--This recipe is a classic--I simply followed the recipe in America's Test Kitchen Cookbook, which involves nothing than a good skillet, oil, and the chops (the flavor is in the sauce you choose to use). Simply heat oil on high, sear chops on one side for 3 minutes until browned; flip, reduce heat to medium, and cook until meat registers 135 degrees. Take the chops out of the pan, cover with foil, and make the reduction sauce in the same pan. By the time the sauce is done, the chops will have risen to 145 degrees and are ready to serve.

stuffed zucchini

3 zucchini
1/2 red onion
1 small carrot
5 cherry tomatoes
2 ears corn
5 slices shoulder bacon, diced
1 tbsp fresh basil
1 tsp honey

salt

pepper

preheat oven to 375. scoop out zucchini, discard flesh. heat 1 tbsp oil, cook bacon over medium heat 3 minutes, add onion and carrot. add corn and cherry tomatoes and cook for 5 minutes. add basil, salt pepper, and 1 tsp honey. remove from heat. toss zucchini boats with 1 tbsp oil, salt and pepper, place on oiled baking sheet and cook for 10 minutes, uncovered. remove from oven, fill boats with corn mixture and cook for 15 minutes, covered. uncover and cook for 5-10 minutes more until zucchini is tender.

pork shoulder and maple baked beans

I actually prepared these baked beans as part of my local meal for week 8 (which I haven't had the time to post); a few days later I simply reheated them to accompany this weeks meal. The only unlocal ingredient for me was maple syrup--I couldn't resist (I have a bottle of the good stuff, from Vermont, in my pantry). The recipe is again culled from my favorite reliable source, the America's Test Kitchen cookbook--I hope to post it later this week.

can we all think like this, please?

2007-08-24T18:54:00.000-07:00

I really respect Jay Porter of the Linkery. I don't know of any restaurateur who is as wholly determined to do things the right way. By right, of course, I mean consciously and ethically, mindful of consequences and causes. Since opening the Linkery, Jay has proven that things shouldn't be taken for granted--that meat doesn't have to be purchased from mega-distributors and that produce doesn't have to be trucked in from afar, that there are food products produced by people who care and that often these products are far superior to what we've been taught to think is delicious. His efforts are genuine and transparent, and there are many things he does that I admire.

That said, I was blown away when I came across this blog post on the Linkery blog This post has nothing to do with producers or purveyors--two topics which I scour the Linkery blog for often. It does have to do with eating, though, and is so sensible I felt like smacking myself in the head after reading it. I quote:

"Starting this weekend, we’re going to pack all our to-go orders in heavier, dishwasher-safe, reusable plastic boxes. These containers cost us about a buck each, and for each container in a takeout order we’ll charge a buck. If you like the container and want to use it at home, great. But if you don’t want it, just bring it back to us at any time and we’ll give you your buck back."

Can everyone just take a moment to muse over how brilliant this system is? And then another moment to ask why all restaurants, everywhere, haven't been doing this for decades? Well, I can answer that second one, but won't waste the space here to do it. Instead I'll take a moment to imagine just how many styrofoam boxes, tin trays, wax paper wrappers, and dare I say disposable coffee cups would be saved from landfills each year if just one franchised operation adopted this policy.

The first thing that popped into my head while reading this was coffee (it was the morning, and I hadn't had any)--the sheer popularity of Starbucks makes me cringe in this department. But if Starbucks adopted a similar idea--if you had to pay a dollar extra each time you neglected to bring a reusable coffee mug? I'll dream of the day.

Until then, I'll be very happy to visit the Linkery again very soon.

Lunch Hour Interview

2007-08-21T21:33:00.000-07:00

So, a few weeks ago, I was sitting down eating lunch on the steps of the NBC building, overlooking the Thursday afternoon farmers' market in Horton square, when I was approached by Kevin Leahy, an intern at KPBS, who asked if he could ask me a few questions about shopping at the farmers' market. Undoubtedly, he spied the three full bags of produce at my feet, (and maybe, I wonder, the colorful tupperware container full of One Local Summer leftovers that I was chowing down on?) and figured I was an easy target.

I wouldn't be surprised if I was the most willing interviewee he met--I went off for the next 15 minutes or so on why I was shopping there, what made produce from this market better than that from the grocery store, and why I hoped more people would join in on the trend. I was surprised at how easily the words came out of my mouth, how well-versed I had become over the past year or so on the issues that surround eating locally, and how adamant I sounded about why I was buying my food from these farmers and not from some nameless mass producer. I excitedly brought up politics, taste, farmers' well beings, and the environment, not necessarily in that order, (and not necessarily in that order of importance).

In the end, our conversation was cut down to about 10 seconds (for a 1 1/2 minute clip), but I'm still pretty glad to get my voice out there. Here's what Kevin decided to include in his project (click on "here's a taste" - I come up after the crying baby, about 1/3 the way through):

KPBS Local News: Local Farmers' Markets Get Boost from Farm Bill

The context, by the way, I'm clueless about--a friend heard me on the radio at 6:30 am today; the KPBS website neglects to include sound bites of how the clip was framed.

This week I realized that an admired owner of one of my favorite bars signs off all of his weekly emails with the line: "Please don’t forget to ask for local beer everywhere you drink or dine. I do." I'd like to adapt that--Please ask for local food everywhere you drink and dine. I'm trying to!!

OLS Week #7

2007-08-20T19:28:00.000-07:00

There are times, I've come to realize, when life just doesn’t make itself conducive to blogging. Hence me not getting my meals posted in time to be included in the One Local Summer week 7 OR week 8 roundup (delinquent, I know). Luckily, while my past few weeks have been hectic and jam-packed, they’ve remained conducive to eating locally. But the business isn’t calming down, so for now I’m reporting things with a two week delay.

Week 7
This week, I found myself between travels, having arrived back from a trip to Virginia on Monday and planning to depart for Los Angeles on Friday. My four days in town left me not very much time to plan, procure, or prepare.

One conviction I've had about any sort of conscious eating habit is that it must not be unwavering. We eat not only for our own personal sustenance but to share an experience with those we choose to dine with. Never have I felt it appropriate to decline to dine with someone because of my own personal food preferences. (This is what has kept me away from vegetarianism, what makes me recoil at Atkins-esque diets, and why I will never decline homemade dessert after dinner). So this week, when I was faced with dining situations where eating 100% local just wouldn’t work, I improvised. Instead of one 100% local meal, I made two 80% local meals, sacrificing that other 20% each time to be able to dine with friends and to not subject them to eating only the limited local foodstuffs I had on hand.

I also realized something else for the first time this week: eating locally, for me, can also be convenient. Sure I've enjoyed the languid summer weeks when I've had nothing pressing on the agenda, allowing me to spend hours at several farmers’ markets throughout the week, exploring and procuring, and another several hours in the kitchen on Sunday afternoons whipping up elaborate, celebratory meals. But languid summer days don’t come around that often, while the need for a meal obviously does. Both meals I prepared this week were possible with only a quick visit to a farmers’ market, some surplus from my garden, and a visit to a local Henry’s, which surprised me with several identifiable local ingredients.

(If I may digress for a moment, Henry’s has tended to anger me for some time, proudly boasting “Eat Local” signs while neglecting to clearly identify the sources of products on the shelves, or worse—just last week I found three “Eat Local” signs posted above a bin of what was clearly identified as Maui pineapple—if only I had a camera. While this is a discussion for another time, the idea of “greenwashing”—boasting claims that a product has such “en vogue” traits as being organic, or local when it barely meets the sustainable criteria that these traits were founded on—angers me to the core).

The first 80% meal this week was made before I had a chance to visit a farmer’s market, relying only on what was in my fridge, garden, and grocery store. The result was linguini with sausage and mushroom-port tomato sauce, with the flour for the pasta, the organic leeks, and the sausage coming from non-local sources. The tomatoes, eggs, two types of mushrooms, shallot, garlic, and port were all local.

Home-made Linguini:
2 cups flour
3 eggs
4 tablespoons cold water, if needed
In food processor, mix flour and egg until dough forms a rough ball. Add water 1 tbsp. at a time as needed if dough doesn’t integrate. Remove dough from processor, combining any stray pieces. Turn out on clean, floured surface and knead for 5 minutes until soft. Let sit, covered, for 15 minutes and up to 1 hour.

Turn dough out onto floured surface and roll out with rolling pin, over and over until as thin as possible. If dough reaches size of surface and you need more room, slice dough into two or more parts and roll individually. When it can’t possibly get any thinner, slice dough into 1/8” strips using pizza cutter. Carefully place strips on a baking pan lined with parchment paper until ready to cook. Dough can be refrigerated at this stage for up to 2 days or frozen for up to a week.
To cook: bring 4 quarts water to boil. Add pasta and cook for 5 minutes, until al dente.

Sausage and Mushroom-Port Tomato Sauce:
2 sausage links
1 bunch leeks, white and pale green parts only
2 shallots, diced
3 cloves garlic, minced
¾ cup button mushrooms, diced
½ cup oyster mushrooms, chopped coarsely
2 cups fresh tomatoes
1 cup port
1 tsp sugar
Salt to taste

Remove sausage from casings. Brown sausage in large, heavy bottomed skillet over medium-high heat, about 7 minutes. Transfer to bowl and cover. Drain any fat from the skillet, add 1 tbsp oil. Add leeks and sauté 5 minutes, until translucent. Add shallots and garlic, cook for 1 minute. Add mushrooms, stir for 2 minutes. Add tomatoes, port, sugar, and salt. Bring to boil, reduce heat, and simmer for 20 minutes, covered. Uncover, add sausage, and simmer for 10-15 minutes longer. Toss over just cooked pasta and serve.

The next meal was the quickest I've made all summer: Mushroom, Arugula, and Red Pepper Fritatta served alongside an arugula salad. The ease of this meal is its versatility—practically any ingredients for the filling will do, and after dicing all the ingredients for the frittata, I just tossed any leftovers into the salad. Since I toted the ingredients to a friend’s house to prepare just before hitting the road to LA, this worked out perfectly. The 20% un-localness in this meal was chicken—as my friend had several chicken breasts that wouldn’t make it through the weekend, which he opted to prepare rather than waste.

Mushroom, Arugula, and Red Pepper Fritatta:
8 eggs
1 small onion, diced
1 small carrot, diced
1 bell pepper, diced
½ bunch arigula diced (about 1 cup)
4-5 oyster mushrooms, sliced thin
¼ cup shaved sharp gouda or other aged cheese

Preheat oven to 350. In large, ovenproof pan, sautee onion and carrot over medium heat until translucent, about 5 minutes. Add bell pepper, cook for 3 minutes more. Add mushrooms, cook for 2 minutes. Add arugula, stir, and remove from heat.

Whisk together eggs, salt, and pepper in a large bowl until yolks are well integrated. Bring pan back to medium low heat , add eggs, and cook, slowly, pushing mixture gently with spatula to expose uncooked eggs to bottom of pan. Cook 3-5 minutes, until bottom of eggs are set.

Sprinkle grated cheese on top and transfer pan to oven. Cook 3-5 minutes longer, until top is gently brown and eggs are firm to touch. Carefully remove from heat, divide into 4-6 slices, and serve alongside salad composed of any unused vegetables (mine was an arugula, red pepper, and button mushroom salad dressed with local olive oil and non-local vinegar).

Whew! That makes me only a week behind…Week 8’s local meal to be posted shortly…

One Local Summer Week #6

2007-08-03T11:07:00.000-07:00

Wow, has it really been six weeks? I've enjoyed every meal of it, but I think this week's was my favorite. Unfortunately, this is also going to be a rather short post, sans photos, as I've just arrived on the East coast for an extended weekend....

The inspiration for this week came in the form of slender, white fruit: baby eggplant. It was the first i'd seen all season, and it was irresistible. Not only was it irresistible, but I knew what I'd do with it the moment i bought it: Caponata. Caponata is a typical Sicilian dish, one that I'd discovered for the first time during a restaurant visit a few weeks ago. Its similar to baba ganoush in that purees cooked eggplant, mingles it with garlic and spices and creates a bewitching spread. In the restaurant where I discovered it, it was used as a bed for a filet of fish to rest on, and I intended to reproduce the effect in this week's meal. Local sea bass--the last of the batch I had frozen from a few weeks ago--paired perfectly with the luscious caponata.

Always searching for local starches, I "cheated" a bit this week and used flour from Oregon to create homemade pasta--which although the flour wasn't local was immensely satisfying. I was surprised at the ease at which I was able to craft tiny orichette-inspired pasta pieces--my dough wasn't as thin as it should have been but the result was as good as any homemade pasta I've tried. I'll definitely be repeating this one.

And, because I can't get enough of the peppery, tangy arugula that's in season right now (the farmer that sells it to me is now reserving a bunch twice a week, because I'm so eager to buy it each time I go to the market), I made local arugula pesto, complete with local sharp gouda and local macadamia nuts.

Here's how I crafted my meal:

Sea Bass in Paper

Looking for an Italian recipe for the fish, I came across Sea Bass in Papillote on Epicurious, an easy variation of sea bass cooked in paper (this recipe uses foil). Using tomatoes from our garden, plus local lemons, thyme, and Italian parsley, I followed the recipe almost exactly (omitted the capers--don't have any local). It was a no-brainer, and delicious! The thinly sliced lemons imparted a delicate citrus flavor that was perfect for a summer evening.

Homemade "orichette" with arugula pesto

Pesto (partially inspired by a similar recipe from elise.com:
1 bunch arugula
1/4 cup macadamia nuts (or other nut--walnuts, hazelnuts, and pine nuts would all lend different, distinct flavors)
2 cloves garlic, unpeeled
1/4 cup sharp gouda, grated
1/2 cup olive oil

dice arugula
crush nuts, roast in toaster oven or over stove for 5-10 minutes, until gently browned
toast garlic in pan over medium heat, skins on, about 10 minutes until skin browns. Let cool and remove garlic from skin
puree all ingredients except oil in food processor until fine. Slowly pour in oil, pulsing to combine.

Pasta
I used a recipe from my favorite source --simply using eggs and flour. The secret was combining the dough in the food processor, which took seconds and integrated it perfectly. I used no fancy equipment other than a rolling pin--it worked just fine.

I then cut the rolled dough into 1/2 to 3/4" squares, pressing my thumb into each to form "little ears" (inspired by the orichette shape)

eggplant caponata with roasted red peppers
For this, I relied on two recipes, a simple one from epicurious, and one from Mario Batali of New York's Otto restaurant.

Here's my interpretation:

6 baby eggplant, skins on
1 red bell pepper
1 small red onion
one carrot
garlic
1 large heirloom tomato, diced
2 tsp. sugar
1 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp. hot pepper flakes
2 tbsp red wine
1/2 cup green olives, pitted and diced
3 sprigs thyme

slice eggplant lengthwise, salt generously and place in colander, beneath a heavy plate. Let sit for 30 minutes.
meanwhile brush red bell pepper with oil and roast over open flame of gas burner for 7-10 minutes, turning as needed, until skin is blackened. Transfer to paper bag, let cool, then gently peel off blackened skin and dice.
rinse eggplant and dice

heat oil over medium heat, add onion and carrot and cook for 5 minutes, until translucent. Add garlic, stir for 30 seconds.
Add eggplant, tomatoes, sugar, cinnamon, and hot pepper flakes. cook for 10 minutes. Add red wine and cook, covered, for 10 minutes more, until eggplant is cooked through.
Add red pepper, olives, and thyme and cook 5 minutes more, uncovered.
Let mixture cool slightly, then transfer to food processor. Puree and refrigerate, covered for at least 2 hours and up to 12.

Ooh, I wish I had photos because this meal came out perfectly!! I'll post some next week upon my return...

One Local Summer Week #5

2007-07-29T21:47:00.000-07:00

Sometimes just one ingredient inspires an entire meal. This week, it was okra.

I sauntered up to one of my favorite farmers' stalls this week, hoping to pick up some blue lake green beans, a sweet cantaloupe, and some tomatoes, when I spotted the gorgeous, slender green fruit staring up at me. There was no hesitation, I immediately started scooping up a handful and filling my bag. I had never seen okra offered at the market before.

As I wandered home, I was hit with another surprise--my tomato plants were finally bearing ripe, vibrant red fruit. What's a girl to do, faced with okra and tomatoes, but whip up some gumbo ?

Unfortunately, I had verified my suspicions earlier in the week that there was little local meat to be had in Southern California, so I was resigned to a vegetarian gumbo. I do have to pause a moment to offer a very gracious thanks to Jay Porter of the Linkery, who was kind enough to spend a solid amount of time answering my questions about local meat and pointing me in several directions including Catalina Offshore Products seafood, A & W Emu ranch, and Creston Valley Meats in Central California (the closest sustainably-minded processing plant he had been able to find). I really appreciate all the information you were willing to lend me Jay, and look forward to exploring all of my options.

As for my gumbo, it took little time for me to head to my favorite N'Awlins website, Chuck Taggart's, and even less time to find a recipe for Gumbo Z'Herbes, a bewitching concoction of southern greens. Chuck, by the way, compiled the ever-solid Doctors, Professors, Kings & Queens: the Big ol' Box of New Orleans box set, which is well worth listening to, especially while you take an afternoon to cook up some gumbo.

What instantly attracted me to Gumbo Z'Herbes was it's use of a myriad of greens, including greens I usually just toss into the compost bin--beet greens, carrot tops, and turnip greens. In fact, some recipes I found called for no less than 10 different types of greens (a number that, apparently, some brave cooks upheld so vehemently that they would sneak into others' gardens and snip the tops off of their neighbor's root vegetables). What I instantly have to emphasize, especially after promising that you should use up to ten otherwise-disposed-of greens, is Chuck's reassurance: "This is an absolutely delicious gumbo. Don't be afraid of it."

The recipe, I'm guessing, will scare some people off instantly. Who wants to eat a concoction of mustard greens, beet greens, turnip greens, and carrot tops? The result, I'm willing to gamble, will turn skeptics into converts after their first meal.

The flavor, for a bunch of stewed vegetables, was deep, complex, and satisfying. I actually looked up a number of recipes and, based on what I had on hand and locally, adapted them all. The key here, I realized, was modification--whatever you happen to have on hand I recommend throwing into the pot.

(You don't have to believe me for that matter:

"I’m convinced that part of gumbo’s virtue, aside from its deliciousness, is that the dish is very forgiving of the cook. Measurements do not have to be exact, ingredients may be changed to use what is on hand, and unless the diners are so set in their ways that they can’t appreciate change, the result will be quite good."
-Stanley Dry, A Short History of Gumbo)

Here were my inspirations:

Chuck Taggart's Gumbo Z'Herbes recipe (I didn't have local ham)
Leah Chase's Gumbo Z'Herbes recipe (from the Dooky Chase Restaurant)
Regan Burns' recipe for Gumbo Z'Herbes as posted on Chow.com (the technique which I found the most practical to follow)

And here was my final result:

Local Gumbo Z'Herbes

greens
8 cups water
salt
1 bunch beet greens
1 bunch turnip greens
1 bunch carrot tops
3 onions, diced
3 cloves garlic, diced

tomatoes
8 small tomatoes

roux:
3 tbsp oil
3 tbsp flour (non-local for me)

"holy trinity":
1 onion, diced
3 small carrots, diced
1 red or green pepper, diced

the rest
salt
pepper
1 tsp. cayenne

1 tbsp. dill
1 small zucchini, diced
8 baby sunburst squash, diced
corn from 2 ears, cut from cobs.

Heat water and salt in large pot over high heat
meanwhile, place all greens in a pot of cold water, swirl to release dirt, drain pot. Repeat 2-3 times, until water runs clear.
Dice greens coursely.
when water is boiling, add greens, three diced onions, and 3 cloves garlic to pot. reduce heat to medium and simmer, covered, for 30 minutes, stirring occasionally.
during last two minutes, add tomatoes to blanch.
Drain, reserving liquid (important!)
remove tomatoes from greens and peel, discarding peel and reserving flesh.
puree all but 1/4 of greens in a food processor. Set both pureed and non-pureed greens aside.

make roux: heat oil in large, heavy bottomed pot. slowly whisk in flour and cook over medium-low heat, stirring constantly, for 10-15 minutes, until roux turns golden to dark brown.
add onion, carrots, and pepper, and cook for 5 minutes, until vegetables are soft
add garlic, stir for 30 seconds until fragrant
add tomato flesh, stir for 30 seconds
add salt, pepper, and cayenne
add squash, corn, and dill
add reserved cooking liquid and bring to a rapid simmer
cook, 15 minutes uncovered, until vegetables are tender
stir in pureed and non-puree greens
continue to cook 10-15 minutes, partially covered until gumbo thickens
continue to simmer on low up to 30 more minutes if needed.

serve warm

Notes:

1. I added two un-local ingredients to this gumbo. One was flour, which is both an integral and indispensable part of gumbo. Two was file powder, which, is a less essential (gumbo can be made without it) but equally important component of Gumbo. Were I living near Lionel Key Jr., I would certainly try to seek out his version. (Regarding that link--it is part of the Southern Foodways Alliance Oral History Project, one of the best food-traditions projects I've come across. Their website is well worth exploring).

2. The next day, I cooked two sausages (casings removed) and stirred the meat into the leftover gumbo as it was re-heating. Again, if you have local pork, I highly recommend making this recipe with meat.

3. Gumbo is best followed up with an equally satisfying dessert. Fearing the end of the strawberry season and finding my first local rhubarb, I opted for my first ever strawberry-rhubarb pie (actually my first 100% homemade pie for that matter). The organic flour, organic vegetable shortening, sugar and vanilla weren't local, but the crust was homemade, the fruit was local, and the filling was damn delicious.

One Local Summer week #4

2007-07-22T22:18:00.000-07:00

Ever since beginning the One Local Summer exercise, I have been in search of something that has long since vanished from the typical American diet: traditional cuisine. I have been convinced there must be a way to go back to eating before freezers, chemical preservatives, and round-the-world shipping changed our concept of dinner (and changed dinner's environmental footprint). Very much in line with Gary Nabhan in his book Coming Home to Eat, I found myself wanting to eat meals made without processed goods prepared by strangers, machines, and corporations.

Certain of these meals are easy for me—I can whip up a salad in no time, throw some vegetables on the grill, or prepare some fish or some eggs for a more substantial meal. But I’m participating in One Local Summer partly because I want to step outside my comfort zone, to go beyond what I already know to see what is possible eating within my own foodshed.

An idea I had since starting One Local Summer, which I’d only pursued haphazardly until now, was to investigate traditional uses of corn, which constitutes the staple grain of much of Southern and Central America. For me, eating corn meant throwing fresh corn cobs onto the grill, but I wanted to move past this. I wanted to transform corn from a vegetable to a starch—to have it serve as an alternative to potatoes, rice, or pasta rather than vegetal accompaniment.

Of course, using corn as a starch means converting it into flour, known as masa. Of course, since the whole idea of this exercise is to not rely on transported commercial products, I quickly realized this would mean doing it myself. Daunted but determined (the process looked quite labor intensive), my mind raced with possibilities. Converting corn into flour would mean using corn to make bread and dough (or tortillas and tamales), a remarkably luring possibility from an eating-local standpoint, considering there aren’t any flour mills to be found in Southern California.

That’s when I came across a recipe adapted for Epicurious from Chef Francis Mallman, an Argentine Chef: Andean Humita en Chala. Humitas are a traditional Argentinian food similar to the tamal of Central America. This recipe, as well as one I later found in the book Tamales 101, by Alice Guadalupe Tapp, used only fresh corn, not processed corn masa. Happily putting the whole corn-to-masa process on hold, I had this week’s meal.

While the recipe I found was for plain Humitas, I decided to spice mine up a bit, mostly because I came across two new local products this week (which also happen to be two of my favorite food categories): mushrooms and cheese.

The mushrooms were from Mountain Meadow Mushroom Farm in Escondido, a gorgeous bag of shitake and portabella caps. The cheese was actually two kinds of Gouda from Winchester Cheese Company--possibly the only commercial farmstead cheese within 150 miles of me. Mary Palmer, who sold me the cheese at Taste cheese shop in Hillcrest, was kind enough to emphasize that the cheese was not just artisinal--made in small batches with the utmost care--but was farmstead, meaning that everything that went into the making of the cheese was gathered from the Winchester cheese property. She urged me to go out to visit, as they gladly offer tours and demonstrations (she also recommended waiting until the fall, when the desert heat calms down).

Cheese and mushrooms--I don't think I've come across two better discoveries this summer. Here's how I concocted them into a meal:

mushroom and gouda humitas, served alongside Winchester Gouda, bread from Charlie's Best bakery, and a simple arugula and yellow tomato salad. (And yes, because I have a weakness for artisinal cheese, that's a small slice of non-local Humbolt Fog goat cheese you see on the cutting board.)

Mushroom and Gouda Humitas
Adapted from Chef Francis Mallman's recipe

Serves 3

Dough
4 ears corn, husks on
3 small carrots
1/2 onion
basil
salt
pepper
1/4 cup milk

Carefully make ring 1/4" from bottom of each corn cob to loosen husks. Carefully remove husks one layer at a time.
reserve removed husks, separating outer and inner layers into two piles
repeat for all 4 ears.

heat oil in skillet over medium heat, add diced carrot and onion. cook about 8 minutes until vegetables are translucent.
cut kernels from cobs, discard cobs.
grate kernels in food processor until fine, about 45-60 seconds
add cooked onion and carrot, milk, basil, salt and pepper and pulse for 15 seconds.
transfer mixture to bowl and chill until firm, about 30 minutes.
meanwhile, make filling (recipe below)

Filling
1/2 onion
2 cloves garlic
1 tbsp oil or butter (I used oil because it was local; otherwise I would have used butter)
8 shitake mushrooms, stems removed, sliced thin
1 small portabella mushroom, stem removed
1/4 cup red wine
1 tsp honey
1/4 cup finely grated sharp Gouda

heat oil in large skillet over medium heat
sautee onion until translucent
add garlic, cook for 30 seconds until fragrant
add mushrooms, wine and honey
cook 7 mintues, stirring frequently
remove from heat, stir in Gouda
set mixture aside

Assembly
Select 12 widest outer husks and 6 inner husks. wash carefully
tie a knot at the skinny end of each inner husk. starting at other end, slit husk vertically, up to knot. You should now have one long strand twice the length of the original husk. This will be used to tie the humitas.
Form the humitas: "Lay 2 of widest husks side by side (narrow ends at top and bottom), overlapping a few inches to form rectangle."
spoon 2 heaping spoonfuls of dough where the husks overlap. top with one spoonful of filling, and a third spoonful of dough.
"fold sides over to cover filling. Fold in top and bottom to make enclosed rectangular package. Tie crosswise with knotted husk. Repeat with remaining filling and husks."

Place completed humitas on baking sheet and bake in 350 degree oven for 15 minutes.

UPDATE: Ok, so I was so happy with this recipe that I made it again later in the week, although with not 100% local ingredients. If you've got local pork, I recommend the second version. Prepare dough as above, but substitute filling and top with apricot glaze and peach salsa.

Apricot-chipotle pork filling
1/2 red pepper
1 smaill red onion
2 pork chops, diced into 1" squares
6 small apricots, diced
2 chipotle chiles, diced
1/2 can beer
1 tbsp butter

saute onion, pepper, saute till transulcent. add pork, browning on all sides add diced apricots and chipotle. add beer. bring to boil, reduce heat to low, simmer about 10 minutes, or until pork is cooked through. Remove pork, turn heat to high and reduce remaining sauce to 1/2. Add butter and stir until thickened. Reserve sauce to spoon over cooked tamales (reheat before serving).

peach, green tomato and chipotle salsa
1 peach
1/2 green tomato
1 chopotle chile

dice all ingredients and combine. refrigerate for 1/2 hour to 2 hours.

One Local Summer Week #3

2007-07-15T14:58:00.000-07:00

"If you go into a situation with nothing planned, sometimes wonderful stuff happens." -Jerry Garcia

This weeks meal started with a wish for simplicity. I had just sent off the last of the out of town guests after a week of constant entertaining, and was looking for something no-fuss to prepare. Having missed my weekend trips to the farmers' markets, I woke up Wednesday planning to head to another neighborhood's farmers' market after work (Ocean Beach). I figured I'd just pick up whatever vegetables looked best, grab a dozen eggs and whip together a fritatta or a souffle and call it a meal.

That's when I picked up the Food and Wine and Bon Appetit issues that had arrived earlier in the week. All it took was one bus trip to work and my head was spinning with ideas. Simplicity flew out the window, creativity flew in right on cue to take its place. The result, I dare say, I'd stake my reputation on.

Instead of one simple fritatta, I picked out three recipes I wanted to try for dinner. (If you ask anyone who's been a dinner guest of mine, I can tend to get carried away preparing a meal; this was no exception.) All three were do-able with local ingredients, something I was pretty proud that I recognized before even making it to the market.

At the Ocean Beach market, I picked up a few staples and a few new, exciting finds. From Richie's Roasted Products (no website) I found air-roasted chiles--which were being roasted right before my eyes in the farmer's market stall. An ingenious contraption that looked a little like a bingo wheel was being turned by hand crank while three fire-spewing valves threw flames onto the contents of the revolving metal cylinder. Bright green chilies danced inside, tumbling atop one another like, well, bingo balls. I picked up a bag of pasillo peppers, enticed by the description of their nutty taste. A caveat here--the peppers are actually from Mexico, so not 100% local, but they were roasted right there in front of me!

I also found another source of potatoes (my favorite potato farmer having finished the season's crop already): Gama Farms in Fullerton and Arvinca. I couldn't resist the gorgeous baby yukon gold creamers, and, because the baby potatoes were $4 a pound, also picked up some larger, $2/lb, yukon golds to throw into the mix (my 20-year old brother and his bottomless stomach having consumed much of my food budget earlier in the week). I picked up a red onion from Milagro farm in Aguanca CA, some radishes and cilantro, some vibrant baby yellow tomatoes from Carlsbad, and was off to whip up my meal.

(that rather strange dark mass in the plastic bag is the roasted pasillo peppers)

Waiting for me at home was some leftover zucchini, some darling cipollini onions, and of course my potted herbs and "local pantry"--the cooking staples I had managed to stockpile so far: olive oil, honey, ginger, and jam. Oh, and the stash of frozen fish I had come home with last week.

My trip to Point Loma Seafoods last week had a delicious twist when I walked out the door. Set up on the pier was a long canopy, with a row of ice-filled coolers underneath. It was the World Famous Smoked Fish Co., a stand I recognized from my Sunday morning farmers market but that I had never stopped at. Curious, I went over, and started asking whether any of the fish for sale was local. Mark Stratton, manning the booth, could not have said sweeter words--not only was some of the fish local, all the local fish he had had been caught less than 24 hours ago. I walked away with my arms full of sea bass, yellowtail, and albacore, my mind swimming with future meal ideas.

Here's what I spun together for this week's meal:

grilled yellowtail & cipollini onion kebobs with ginger-chili marinade
Ok, this is the dish I'd stake my reputation on. I don't claim this that often, but one spoonful of the marinade and my tastebuds were blown away. I don't take credit for it--the stunning flavors of this marinade stem from the individual excellence of the local products I used, particularly the subtle smoky sweetness of the wildflower honey I have from Chrystal's Pure Honey in Borrego Springs, the slight tartness of Jackie's Jams Apricoty Jam, and the nutty roasted pasillo pepper from Richie's Roasted Products.

This recipe was based on a recipe from Bon Appetit's August issue, Tuna Kebobs with Ginger-Chile Marinade (The 13 Things You'll Make all Summer, p. 85). The original recipe called for rice vinegar, peanut oil, sesame oil, and soy sauce; to make it local I omitted the Asian ingredients and added local apricot jam. The result was a less liquidy marinade, almost like a wet rub, with the combination of sweet (jam, honey) and spicy (roasted pepper) creating a bewitching combination of flavors. The amount here is enough for two servings--it is easily doubled.

2 tbsp. grated fresh ginger
2 tbsp. olive oil
1 tbsp. apricot jam
2 tbsp. honey
1/2 roasted pasillo pepper, diced
1 tbsp. cilantro, diced
fresh ground pepper
1/2 lb. fresh yellowtail, diced into 1" cubes
1 zucchini, sliced thick
10 small cipollini onions
1 tbsp. oil
salt
pepper

combine first 7 ingredients and mix well. set 2 tbsp. marinade aside

coat fish in remaining marinade; let sit, refrigerated, for 1/2 hour.
toss zuccini and onions in oil, salt, and pepper
thread fish cubes, onions, and zucchini slices onto skewers
grill kebabs over medium-high heat about 6 minutes.
brush reserved marinade over kebabs and serve

Nicoise Potato Salad
I again modified a recipe in Bon Appetit's August Issue (Farmers' Market Salad with Spiced Goat Cheese Rounds, page 79) to use what I had at hand. The salad, which is essentially a nicoise salad, featured steamed and chilled new potatoes and green beans tossed with kalamata olives, grape tomatoes, basil and salad greens. I omitted the salad greens, resulting in a potato salad of sorts that worked great as a side dish. For lunch the next day, I added a hard boiled egg (local) and some greens and converted the side dish into a suitable entree. The dressing was a simple dijon vinaigrette--red wine vinegar, shallot, fresh thyme, dijon mustard, and olive oil; it was the other component of my meal that was not local (although I do know a source for local balsamic vinaigrette).

Grilled Corn and Radish Salad with Spicy Lime Dressing
I found this recipe in Food and Wine's August Issue (Zesty Salads and More, page 106) and made only minor modifications. The original recipe called for raw corn; since I had the grill on for the fish kebabs I threw the corn on as well. The recipe also called for Italian parsley, cumin and a jalepeno; I used cilantro and a roasted pasillo pepper and omitted the cumin to keep the dish 100% local.

One Local Summer Week #2: Liquid San Diego

2007-07-08T15:52:00.000-07:00

Oops. I'm a little late this week. Prepared my meal on Monday but haven't had a chance to write about it until now (family in town, and an annual, albeit not quite local tradition-Thanksgiving in July-took all of my energy). But now that the sea has calmed, I'm finally ready to share last week's meal.

As I quickly discovered when starting the One Local Summer challenge, I knew of a lot of local offerings in San Diego, but most of them were in the produce realm. So I set out excitedly during One Local Summer week #2, determined to find products that stretched beyond those that just come from the ground. After a week of exploring and investigating, I ended up with a bounty! Coincidentally, all of them happened to revolve around liquids, which in an iron chef-like way, became the theme of this week's meal.

Water
My favorite discovery of the week was also the most rewarding. Looking at my foodshed map of last week's meal, the first thing I noticed was how uneven my sources were spread out, always coming from the northeast of my neighborhood. There was nothing from the west, the dark blue mass on the map. Which is how my meal this week led me to the Pacific.

Despite bordering the ocean, I had never really explored San Diego's seafood supply. In fact, the seafood I had found in the area was always somewhat disappointing, given my the city's proximity to the sea. It doesn't cease to amaze me that a coastal town sources most of its seafood from hundreds, nay thousands of miles away. While Alaskan salmon, Thai shrimp, and Maine shellfish are always available, never had I run across a store proudly boasting fish from Southern California.

I can't remember where I heard of Point Loma Seafoods, but they have become my new favorite fish source. The crowded market, located directly next to one of the city's many harbors, is little more than one big room, with an enormous counter serving as both store and restaurant. When I arrived, (after calling ahead, and learning they had local halibut), the room was organized chaos, families and tourists hungry for a late lunch, savvy home cooks looking to tote something home for dinner. Lines formed haphazardly clamoring for the attention of the more than 20 employees moving quickly behind the counter. By the time I made it up to the front, it was close to closing time, and the pile of local halibut that had been stocked in the refrigerated case in the morning had dwindled to just one 1/2 lb. piece. Luckily, it was mine.

Proudly toting my local halibut home, I knew there was only one way to prepare it--poached in another local ingredient I had just come across this week: milk.

Milk
Hollandia Dairy in San Marcos is about 45 minute drive from my house. The trip seems a little excessive to pick up a gallon of milk, but not knowing any other local dairy farms, I was willing to take the drive last Saturday. Luckily, calling ahead, I found that the dairy delivers milk to a store a little more than a mile from my house, and hopping on my bike I had local milk in no time. After a quick swing by the farmer's market to pick up some gorgeous summer cantaloupe, the first corn pickings of the season, some plump zucchini and equally tempting basil, it was time to prepare me some dinner.

Well almost. There was one last ingredient to work into this week's meal: beer.

Beer
Vermont has its maple syrup and cheese, Georgia its peaches, and Kentucky its bourbon. If there is one thing that San Diego is putting itself on the map for, it is beer. There are over 20 breweries in the San Diego area, with well over a handful of them being consistently award-winning. The brewing culture is so intense (and likes its beer the same way) that it's created its own style: the San Diego IPA, also known as an Imperial IPA, or double IPA--a high-hops, high-alcohol beer that, while brewed across the state, is perhaps done best by San Diego breweries (I've been told this is due to the hard water); excellent examples include Alpine Pure Hoppiness and Ballast Point Sculpin IPA. So, even though I consider myself well aware of the San Diego beer offerings, I set out this week to get as close to local beer as possible.

Saturday afternoon we set out to visit two breweries in the area: Alesmith and Ballast Point, both of which are located in seemingly unsuspecting warehouse/office parks, and both of which gladly offer tastings, tours, and of course, beer for sale. Surrounded by the equipment in which the beer is made, we gladly sampled the breweries offerings, ending up with a growler of beer from each: Alesmith Summer Yulesmith and Ballast Point IPA (the Sculpin was in short supply, and sadly, not for sale). The Ballast Point brewery doubles as a home brew mart, and I also walked away with a vial of California Ale brewer's yeast, which I intended to use for cooking dinner. The yeast, produced by White Labs, is actually fermented in San Diego, making it local, and I was assured that the California Ale strain was the first produced by the company.

Armed with local yeast and local beer, and a local recipe from another local brewery, I set out to make the most daring kitchen feat in my home cooking career. Spud Buds, as they are called at the Stone World Bistro & Gardens, are essentially fried mashed potato balls, where the potatoes are cooked in beer, whipped with yeast, and dipped in batter made with a second beer. Only in a brewery restaurant, right? (And, only at Stone, the vegetable oil used to fry the spud buds is reused, converted to biodiesel to fuel the company delivery trucks) Since I still had some local potatoes left over from last week, I knew I had to try to make them. The recipe comes from Chef Raymond Scott at Stone World Bistro and Gardens and appeared July's Beer Advocate magazine.

The Spud Buds were admittedly the only component of my meal that was not 100% local, as the recipe called for flour, baking powder, and frying oil (I could have used local oil but it would have cost me upwards of $30, rather than $3, and I just couldn't justify it). Ironically, it was the only recipe that backfired on me, as I couldn't keep the oil temperature high enough and the mashed potato balls, which looked gorgeous pre-fry, disastrously fell apart. (When making, be sure to keep the oil temperature at a constant 350-360 F to avoid the same unfortunate fate.)

Recipes:

milk poached halibut and summer squash with cantaloupe & green tomato salsa

cantaloupe, green tomato & basil salsa

1 small cantaloupe
1/2 green tomato
1 bunch basil

dice cantaloupe, and green tomato into 1/4" pieces
frisee basil by taking 3-4 leaves, carefully rolling into a spiral, and carefully slicing--slices should be curled.
toss basil, cantaloupe, and green tomato in bowl; chill until ready to serve

milk poached halibut & summer squash

this recipe was adapted from several I found that used milk as a poaching liquid. The closest is from UK chef Ed Baines
others are here and here
1 tsp. olive oil
1 shallot
2 cloves garlic
2 tsp ginger
2-3 cups milk (enough to cover the fish, depending on pan width)
5-10 black peppercorns
1/2 tsp salt
1 bay leaf
1/2 lb. halibut filet
1 zucchini, halved and sliced lenthwise into 6 slices
4-5 basil leaves, diced, plus more for garnish

rub both sides of halibut with salt and pepper
heat oil in heavy bottomed skillet
saute shallot for 2 minutes, add garlic, and ginger, stir for 30 seconds or until fragrant
add milk, bay leaf and peppercorns, bring to rapid simmer
add halibut, zucchini and basil
cover and simmer for 10 minutes, until fish is almost done and zucchini is tender
remove fish and zucchini; cover with foil and tent for 10 minutes (fish will continue to cook while resting)
while fish is resting, increase heat to high and simmer milk mixture rapidly, decreasing volume by half
using a slotted spoon, spoon shallots & basil over fish, drizzle some of the reduced milk onto fish
garnish with basil, sprinkle with salt and pepper and serve warm

par-boiled corn on the cob

this is a perfect recipe for absolutely fresh early summer sweet corn, as the corn barely needs to cook. I use the same method for asparagus and it works perfectly every time.

corn on the cob
water
salt

Remove corn from husks. Submerge corn in salted water; bring to a rapid boil; turn off heat and drain corn. Let sit, covered, until serving time. Serve warm

One Local Summer week 1 addendum

2007-06-28T22:42:00.000-07:00

I've been fooling around with the new google maps feature, my maps, for a few weeks now. I wanted to add this to yesterday's post but had to talk to a few farmers today before I could complete it. I hope to do this each week from now on, hopefully getting a bit more elaborate with photos and links and whatnot.

Anway, here's where my meal came from for One Local Summer Week #1 meal.

One Local Summer Week #1: Mary's Potatoes

2007-06-26T19:57:00.001-07:00

My day started out with a potato. Well, okay, one potato in a two-pound bag of potatoes that I had toted home from the farmer's market the day before. It was gorgeous, in fact, I'd been admiring its beauty for the past 8 weeks, when I started buying its brothers from Mary at my local farmer's market. But yesterday morning, Mary told me it was probably the last week she would have potatoes, and, after scooping up three baskets of blue, gold, and red tubers, I knew I needed to pay homage to the harvest. My first One Local Summer meal, I decided, needed to prominently feature this potato.

A laudable decision, yes, but one that caused me to spend, I'm not kidding, at least 3 hours of the day contemplating how to properly do justice to this potato. My respect for this particular crop runs deep--it is the only local starch I've found in the Southern California spring, and has become a staple of my meals these past few months. Mary is also the first local farmer I'd forged a relationship with, so part of my determination to properly celebrate this potato was for her. It was a strange feeling--I've never wanted to pay homage to one food product before (save for my favorite comfort food, the jalepeno cheese bread at the Liars Club, which needs little more preparation than a light toast) which is I guess why I found myself unable to decide on how to cook the damn roots. I pondered and pondered, and finally decided I was stumped. I'd already shaped these babies into every form I could think of--home fries, hash browns, two types of potato salad, even semi-successful gnocci. I wanted to do something different, something more.
(a tray of not-so-successful gnocci--I later learned the secret: freezing)

But the more I pondered the more I realized that what makes Mary's potatoes special is that they're good--far better than any I'd sampled before, and since. I realized that what I really needed to do was prepare them simply, to let them showcase their own flavor. It must have been a comical moment, me jumping up from amid a pile of cookbooks on the floor, excited by a sudden realization that I was going to roast some potatoes whole. I suddenly got inspired--not only would I roast the potatoes but I'd roast them with local olive oil from Petrou foods, local garlic from the farmer's market, and a bit of fresh rosemary from my garden. My mouth was salivating already.

This, however, spurred on pondering session #2, as I was now stumped as to what I could possibly serve with these potatoes to do the decided-upon side dish justice. As I've mentioned earlier in the week, my options were limited, and because I was determined to make this meal 100% local, I was pretty much resigned to the fact that I would be preparing a vegan meal (if anyone knows of any dairy or meat farms in San Diego, I'm actively seeking options!).

Luckily, in addition to some gorgeous, inspiring potatoes, I had a few other treasures piled on my kitchen counter. I was particularly fond of the blue lake green beans I'd been getting all spring, and was eager to mingle them with the bewitching dragon beans that Carlsbad's Valdivia Farms had at their farm stand last Saturday. I decided to feature a bean salad as a side dish, especially after stumbling across this one on Simply Recipes. I had peppermint growing in my garden and had some clementines from Polito family farms I could use in the dressing, along with oil from Petrau farms. Side dish #2, down.

Now for the main course, something that I passed up a Morley Field frisbee golf session to work out the details of. I had gorgeous summer squash, even more beautiful red peppers and some enormous rainbow chard that I was determined to weave together. Wanting to capture the essence of summer and the spirit of celebrating the food I was eating, I decided something elaborate was needed, and so it became: a terraine of summertime grilled vegetables.

I found a basic recipe in the America's Test Kitchen Family Cookbook (aka my kitchen bible), as well as a similar one on epicurious to base the dish on, and, pouring myself a glass of (local) San Pasqual Wine, I took it from there. There were some improvisations as I went along--I threw in some potatoes for good measure, I realized I didn't have any local white wine so substituted Stone Beer (and the 2007 Vertical Epic at that!). Oh, and I cheated twice: at the very beginning, deciding to use chicken stock I had made and frozen earlier in the year--the chicken wasn't local but it was free-range; at the very end, adding breadcrumbs from locally-made bread that was, alas, made with non-local flour.

The result? The potatoes were oh-so-perfect, the green beans light and refreshing (although the color faded from the dragon beans). And the terraine? From a foodie standpoint there were things I would have added if I could find them locally--a layer of goat cheese definitely, and if not some sort of protein at least some hearty mushrooms (which are available locally, I just hadn't planned ahead). From a locavore standpoint, however, I was pretty pleased. The leftovers held up well (I drizzled on some leftover homemade pesto the next day), and, if you've got some meat in your foodshed I think this would make a great side dish (although a time-consuming one!).

Here are the recipes:

Roasted smashed potatoes with garlic & parsley

1/2 lb new potatoes, preferably 1 1/2 inch diameter or less
olive oil
salt/pepper
2 cloves garlic, diced
1 sprig fresh rosemary, diced

scrub potatoes well, let dry
preheat oven to 400 F
rub roasting pan with 2 tsp olive oil, place potatoes in pan and toss to coat
sprinkle with salt and pepper
roast in oven for 30 minutes, rotating after 15
take potatoes out of oven, let rest for 10 minutes
while potatoes are resting, heat 1 tsp oil in pan over medium heat, add garlic and rosemary, salt, and pepper and sautee for 2 minutes, stirring often so as to not let the garlic burn.
plate potatoes, smash each with large mallet
spoon rosemary and garlic mixture over each

mixed string bean and mint salad

(sorry for the blurriness--I was eager to eat!)

1/2 lb mixed green, wax, dragon, or other string beans
olive oil
handful fresh mint leaves
1 clementine

dice the mint and mix with olive oil
zest one clementine, add zest to olive oil
squeeze juice from clementine and add to oil mixture. let stand at room temperature until needed.
cut ends off beans and steam for 2-5 minutes over boiling water
rinse under cold water and place in fridge to stop cooking process.
mix beans and mint mixture and let stand in fridge until ready to serve.

zucchini, chard, blue potato and roasted red pepper casserole

2 red peppers
5 blue potatoes
4 medium summer squash
1 bunch swiss or rainbow chard, stems and leaves separated, both diced
1-2 red onions, sliced thin
4 cloves garlic, diced
olive oil
garlic
2 tbsp. fresh italian parsley, diced
1 tsp. fresh oregano, diced
1 cup chicken or vegetable stock
1 cup good beer (the better the beer the better the flavor!)
2-3 thick slices fresh bread
olive oil
salt/pepper

note: this recipe took me 2 hours from prep to table, and involves grilling, stovetop & oven time. Broiling could be substituted for the grilling if needed; improvisation in any of the steps or layers would also work fine, as long as all components are cooked prior to the dish going into the oven.

light grill, let heat for 15 minutes
stem and seed red peppers, slice into 4-5 flat pieces
slice zucchini into 1/4 inch strips
grill pepper and zucchini slices over open grill for 4-5 minutes per side, until peppers are blackened and zucchini have grill marks. Remove from heat. set zucchini aside

Place peppers in paper bag for 10 minutes. using a vegetable peeler, gently remove blackened skins from peppers. dice peeled peppers and set aside.

saute onions and chard stems with 2 tsp. oil over medium high heat for 10 minutes, stirring frequently, until onions are browned and soft. be careful not to burn. set mixture aside.

while onions are cooking, blanch chard leaves in boiling water for 5 minutes, drain and set aside.

heat garlic in 1 tsp oil over medium heat for 1 minute. add chicken stock, beer, oregano, and parsley, bring to simmer, cook for 5 minutes and remove from heat.

slice potatoes into 1/4" slices. toss with 2 tsp oil and salt and pepper. line bottom of glass casserole dish and bake in 400 degree oven for 15-20 minutes.

while potatoes are baking, place bread in food processor and pulse until bread is chopped into course crumbs.
place crumbs on cookie sheet in one layer and cook in oven for 5 minutes. remove from oven and set aside.

remove potatoes from oven (keep oven on) and carefully layer onion mixture, zucchini slices, blanched chard, and roasted red peppers over potatoes, in that order. pour stock and beer mixture over casserole dish. top with breadcrumbs and bake for 20 minutes.

Enjoy!

One Local Summer--pre-post

2007-06-24T16:51:00.000-07:00

I signed up to take part in Pocket Farm's One Local Summer, which starts, officially, today. The idea is to make one meal entirely out of local food once a week, for each week of summer. The idea is a strict one, with the only caveat allowing oil, salt, pepper, spices and herbs. Everything else for this one meal a week must be acquired, not to mention grown, raised, or harvested, locally.

I've insisted before that eating locally should not be viewed as a challenge, and for the same reasons I'm weary of calling my participation in One Local Summer a challenge. Rather, I'm hoping it will be a learning opportunity, giving me reason and inspiration to explore, to expand my horizons, and to find more farmers and purveyors than i would otherwise know about. I'm hoping I'll know a lot more at the end of the summer than at the start, and maybe even think a little differently about how we eat. So I thought it would be a good idea to preface my first One Local Summer meal with a summary of sorts, so I could look back at the end of summer and see where I started.

Since committing last week, I've been spending a large part of my free time thinking about what eating locally means, and what my options are. I've been to 5 different farmers' markets, spent a solid amount of time looking up local products (although have been disappointed not to find one solid resource of San Diego-area foods), and spent a bit more money than I usually would on a few staples. Here's the results of a week's worth of preparation:

First, I'm in great shape in terms of seasonal produce. Southern California is surprisingly bountiful, with over 200 agricultural products and over 2,000 small farms. Right now tomatoes, avocados, strawberries, leafy greens, summer squash, citrus, bell peppers, and string beans are heavily in season, and we're just starting to see stone fruits (apricots, peaches, plums, nectarines), sweet corn, cantalopes, and other summer bounty. I've also found several farmers that allow me to stock up on what I consider staples of many meals--garlic, onions, and fresh herbs (I recently found ginger and bay leaves, both of which I'm excited about). So fruit and veggies promise to be the easy part.

I've also got my own garden to source from, although right now it is in a bit of a state of transition--I've harvested most of the swiss chard and all of the romaine that was planted earlier in the season, and I've just planted some soy beans, cantaloupe, and bell peppers but won't see any fruit for weeks. I do have some lipstick peppers that I'm leaving on the vine until they turn red, and my two tomato plants are healthy and strong, with tons of small green fruits starting to appear. I just discovered that someone, probably the gardener my landlord hires to keep our bouganvilla under control, butchered and destroyed my dill, so I'm a bit disappointed about that, but I've got some healthy rosemary, sage, and oregano, and I just added some basil and mint to a planter in the shade.

I've also found some local gems that I think will help and probably guide the local meals I prepare this summer. I've stocked up on Wildflower Honey from Chrystal's Pure Honey in Borrego Springs, and found Jackie's Jams, which makes jam entirely from local produce and which I hope to use as a rub or marinade later in the summer. I snagged a jar of apricot as it's in short season and she often sells out, but am enticed by pomegranate, strawberry, and chipotle peach too. I'm most excited, however, about the bottle of olive oil I bought today from George Petrou, who has been making olive oil in San Diego for over 20 years. The olives themselves are from Central California--he used to grow them in San Diego and Mexico but recently moved the operation. Still, it means I can cook with semi-local oil, making my meals that much more local. With fresh herbs and locally produced olive oil, I'm going to aim for salt and pepper to be my only outside-the-foodshed ingredients.

That said, I am also struggling with a few major food groups. I have yet to find a local source of meat, and although I know of one dairy (Hollandia Dairy, in San Marcos), I have yet to make the visit and don't know what products they have. Because I don't want my defintion of "local" to have to mean "vegetarian," I'm determined to explore the options in the area. I have found local yellowtail caught off the shores of San Diego, and also local eggs, but do want to find what else is out there in terms of the animal kingdom. I also think I may have trouble with grains. There are local potatoes and sweet corn that I can use as starches, but rice and wheat I think are only produced outside my foodshed. I'm going to explore to see if there is any local grains, but also intend to do more research on using corn as a grain.

Oh, and how could I forget the last important component of a meal? I am excited to be able to celebrate San Diego's wealth of local (and award-winning) breweries as well as at least one local winery that operates out of a warehouse less than 2 miles from my house. So drinks to accompany dinner promise not to be a problem; I also am excited about cooking with beer & wine.

One thing that I'm determined to do, since I am having so much trouble myself finding what San Diego has to offer, is to compile a list of local foods that I find and use. I'm experimenting with the format, but think a combination of lists and customized google maps may accompany this blog throughout the summer, hopefully culminating in a solid directory of San Diego-area local food.

And now, because it's 5:00 and I have dinner to prepare, let the One Local Summer begin!

summertime evening blues (really)

2007-06-19T22:51:00.000-07:00

The sun and the beach are irresistible this time of year, and there's no doubt I'll be heading out to play after coming home from work every day this week. But coming in from the languid sunset, I find myself faced with a surprisingly troubling dilemma: If I take the time to prepare a delicious meal, I have no time to write; if I take the time to write, I linger too long over words and run out of time to cook a satisfying meal. Since the tempting fridge full of local produce inevitably wins (especially this week), it's the writing that stays neglected.

I have about 5 posts I'm dying to write, and I will get to them. (several espousing my frustration at the state of the world after reading this; several more of excitement after finding this; and at least one waxing poetic on the beauty of chioggia beets). In the mean time, I'll leave you with some well-articulated, slow and savory goodness that I stumbled across. Which I guess applies to that interview with Carlo Petrini, and also the sweet, smoky flavors of La Milpa chioggia beets.

Get to Know your Local Transit System

2007-06-12T08:43:00.000-07:00

Six months ago, had you suggested to me that I ride the bus to get from point A to point B I might have given you a puzzling look, not sure whether you could possibly be serious. Fast forward to today, and you'll find me happily perched at the bus stop every morning, monthly bus pass in hand.

So what changed? Curiosity I guess, discovering that a bus commute was possible and wondering whether it would be feasible, and/or enjoyable and/or convenient and/or save me some dough as gas prices painfully continue to rise. So there I was one morning, waking up a bit earlier than I needed, $2.25 in hand, unsure what the ride would be like or where it would take me. Turns out the bus picks me up a block from my house, drops me off two blocks from my office door, and leaves me just enough time to grab a reusable mug full of organic, free trade coffee, from an independent coffee stand I never would have found had the bus not let me out directly across the square. Combine that with 45 minutes of reading and listening to music and I feel pretty damn relaxed by the time I get to work.

So I liked the commute, certainly a lot more than driving 20 minutes myself, circling for 10 minutes to find a parking spot and walking 10 more from the parking spot to the office door. Time is about the same, cost, because I have to pay to park in Downtown San Diego, is much less, and stress level is non-existent (save for about one morning a month when I'm inevitably running late and literally sprint to the bus stop and climb on board panting). Like many environmentally friendly gestures I espouse on these pages, I've come to find that a) not only is making the switch not that hard, and b) I actually enjoy the alternative better than the norm.

And it looks like riding public transportation is just going to get easier and easier. Check out Google Transit for instance, a Google Labs product that allows you to type in a start and end address, select an arrival and departure time, and end up with a familiar-looking Google map with your bus, rail, and foot path mapped out. The system's not perfect (when looking for a route home from a lecture that would end at 8:30 pm I was told to take a 6:30 am bus the next morning) and its not available in more than a handful of cities, but its a step in the direction of making public transportation seem both more accessible and more convenient.

My favorite feature about the map, aside from the "walking instructions" it gives you if your destination is slightly off the transport route, is the savings calculator. Using local transit fare, mileage, and the most recent IRS cost per mile figure (used to allow businesses to deduct mileage on their taxes), Google shows you how much money you would spend driving and (usually) what you would save with each bus trip. This alone was shocking to me--to find that it supposedly costs me $5 each time I head to a friend's house; or $11 round trip to drive to work each day. Of course, the Google figure doesn't take into account parking, tolls, etc., and the transit figure doesn't take into account monthly or bulk passes, which at least for me, makes the savings even more substantial.

Now all they need to do is add one more calculation--neither figure (public transport or driving) offers up the environmental impact, something I'd love to see some talented economist out there offer calculations for.

deliciously sound=soundly delicious

2007-05-30T13:06:00.000-07:00

I'm only about three chapters in to Barbara Kingsolver's Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, and I'm hooked. I actually think I may have to put the book on hiatus for a few days (see below), but I didn't want to wait to share this quote:

"Food is the rare moral arena in which the ethical choice is generally the one more likely to make you groan with pleasure. Why resist that?"

Amen sister. One of these days, when I actually sit down and put my personal food philosophy into words, I'm guessing it will come remarkably close.

Oh, and speaking of groaning with pleasure (and also trying to figure out the complicated world of food, fuel, and the environment so I can get to the point where I eloquently define my personal food philosophy), I was delighted by the sheer brilliance of yet another solid event taking place at the Stone Brewery: the book & a beer club.

And of course, I'm even more delighted at the first book selected, as this may finally get me to pick up the book I've pledged to read for a year but haven't actually opened the cover of (although to my defense I've read two exerpts - here and, in print, here -and pretty much know the plot, moral undertones, and conclusions by heart).

Mmm. I can't think of a more pleasurable Monday evening than one spent in a gorgeous garden, sipping on a pint of Stone Vanilla Smoked Porter while contemplating how we eat. Here's to Michael Pollan for inspiring and Greg Koch for making it happen.

Morning Commute Musings

2007-05-24T08:53:00.000-07:00

Hm. sorry for this rant--sometimes a 45 minute bus ride makes you think, especially when you forgot a book to read...

Eating is one of the most sensual acts we do. We smell a food’s aromas, are enticed by its appearance, feel its textures, taste its sweetness, sometimes even hear it sizzling on the grill. Yet a lot of times we forget this--forget to experience the pleasure of biting into a just-picked apple, of sinking our teeth into a carefully roasted loin, or letting a thick spoonful of ice cream dissolve on our tongue. And the one reason I can think of that we forget to pause and enjoy what we're eating is that we've lost a connection with our food. Eating locally, I'm convinced, not only restores that connection, but allows us to truly enjoy what we're eating to the fullest extent.

Yet if there’s one thought I wish I could pound into my readers heads it’s this: eating local is not a challenge, it is a pleasure.

And I say this because I feel like the general sentiment regarding eating locally grown, purveyed, and produced food is along the lines of: sure it’s good in theory, but requires a considerable amount of effort in practice. Part of this stems from how we hear about these efforts—as many of the stories about eating locally frame the topic with a certain amount of time. James and Alisa, of 100milediet.org undertook a strictly local diet for a year. Others have followed suit with local food challenges that have lasted a week or a month (see, for example, Pennywise Eat Local Challenge).

Just a caveat before I continue--I’m a bit torn about writing a blog post about why eating locally shouldn’t be viewed as a challenge, because there are a lot of people out there who have undertaken some sort of local food challenge--pledging to eat locally for x amount of days--and I fully support their efforts. The reason I’m writing this is not to convince other people not to do this; it is to convince those of us who might not be interested in a challenge that it’s still a good idea to eat at least something, some time, locally. So here we go:

The thought of switching to an entirely local diet for a certain period of time is daunting. It requires a considerable amount of research—finding local farmers, producers, and businesses that roast, brew, assemble, and bake locally. It requires limiting your diet—because even the most bountiful of areas don’t have someone making/growing every type of food product. And it often involves sacrificing convenience, which little of us have the ability, or desire, to do. Again, this is not to say that it can't be done--I just don't think it's reasonable for the majority of people.

I guess my feelings on eating locally sit right up there with my personal feelings on vegetarianism or veganism, or on dieting in general: while there are many out there who are strictly adhering, I've never felt it's something I needed to try on an all-or-nothing basis. I don't think it's necessary to feel guilty about if you break the habit for a day, and not something that necessarily has to come with strict limits, rules, and restrictions--you can reap the benefits even if you only practice it loosely.

Again, I’m not saying undertaking a local food challenge is a bad thing for all of us. James and Alisa’s challenge needed to be done—it raised awareness about the issues involved and inspired countless others to start thinking locally. (And for inspiration I do recommend their website as well as their recent book: Plenty: One Man, One Woman and a Raucous Year of Eating Locally.) There are others for whom it is immensely practical--they live on a farm, or belong to a co-op, or raise their own food. And there are many benefits if you are already a socially conscious person who finds it easy to switch over to eating local-only food. It raises awareness, forces you to explore, and to step out of your comfort zone. But for the rest of us, making such a dramatic shift is just not that easy.

But don't let that deter you! I can’t help but fear that if eating locally is viewed merely as a challenge, the majority of people will simply choose never to undertake it, simply dismissing it as a big, seemingly insurmountable challenge that they have no interest in. And if you take a step back from things, on a global scale this is actually detrimental to the values and goals behind the local food movement! While some people eating 100% locally for one week, once, is a laudable achievement, it has far less of an impact than the majority of people eating somewhat locally all year round. But I’m distracting myself with the serious, when what I really hope to convey is the opposite. (I’ll save my tale of the planet, the greater health of the population, and the governmental policy for another day.)

The reason eating locally should be viewed as far from a challenge is because it is inherently enjoyable, even (or maybe especially) without a commitment. Tasting a tomato fresh off the vine, a strawberry that hasn't been bred for durability to be shipped 3000 miles, or a slab of bacon that has been cured in-house affords delight, discovery, and satisfaction. It doesn't matter whether you eat one local thing a month or 90% locally consistently--the pleasure is there every time you take a bite. And it is a pleasure everyone should experience.

Let’s look at my favorite moment of the week. Actually, the story starts on Sunday, so let me take you back a few days. Sunday evening, I headed to dinner at the Linkery, a slow-minded restaurant that focuses on serving "hand made cuisine" sourced from socially, environmentally, and health conscious purveyors (which also all happens to be delicious). Perusing the wine list, I noticed a meritage made in San Diego (from grapes grown in Baja), and decided to give it a whirl. I think there are at least 20 craft wineries in Southern California, but local wine is something I've not yet had the time to explore (partly because the local beer here is so amazing). So, I figured, why not start here, at one of the most purposefully-minded restaurants in the city.

With nothing to lose—my biggest disappointment could be that it was a sub-par wine, but I’d still enjoy drinking a locally-made beverage—I ordered it. Turns out the wine was delicious! It was a San Pasqual Meritage “Monte Soledad”. It was subtler than similar wines from Northern California, but had substantial body and just enough complexity to make each sip a pleasure. What a discovery!

Fast forward to yesterday, when I decided to look up the winery to see where I could get my hands on a bottle. Turns out the winery is not only located in San Diego, it is located in my neighborhood! I can't convey how excited I was to discover this. So on Monday, finding a list of independent liquor stores and wine shops that carry San Pasqual wines, I set out to one a few blocks away, and found, not one, but three San Pasqual wines (a merlot, cabernet, and chardonnay), all - get this - for $5 a bottle. The entire excursion—from a Google search to opening a bottle—took about 20 minutes, cost $15, yet afforded enormous delight! There's just something so rewarding in discovering something that you never before knew about, that you thoroughly enjoy, and that you realize also happens to be good for both the planet and your community.

I can’t emphasize enough how much you have to find this out for yourself. I encourage everyone who's reading this to seek out your own San Pasqual--maybe not tomorrow, or next week, but sometime this season. Keep your eyes open wherever you are, because I'm convinced local treasures abound.

In the mean time, here’s the delicious, and incidentally very much local meal I prepared in celebration of that bottle of wine:

Tortilla Espanola accompanied by San Pasqual “Cabrillo” Cabernet Sauvignon

Ingredients

2 tbsp. butter

1 lb. potatoes, cut into 1/2 inch dice (I used freshly dug local baby German Butter Ball potatoes)

½ onion, diced (I used a mix- ½ of a local Imperial Sweet onion and 2 local baby red onions)

2 strips bacon (not local-what was sitting in my fridge)

1 tomato (I used local heirloom from Carlsbad)

4 eggs (I used local free-range from Eben Hazer ranch)

¼ cup parmesan cheese (not local—the average grated stuff I had in the fridge)

Salt and pepper to taste

Directions:

Preheat broiler. In a cast iron skillet or other oven-safe skillet, melt 1 tbsp of butter over medium heat. Add potatoes, and cook, covered, for 10-20 minutes, until cooked through but not yet tender. Stir occasionally to flip potatoes. (If the potatoes get too brown, turn down the heat). Add the onions and cook 5 minutes longer, until potatoes are barely tender and onions are soft. If using cast iron skillet, turn off heat but keep above same burner (the cast iron will retain the heat--if using other skillet you may want to keep the heat on low). Add tomatoes, salt and pepper, and cover, so the mixture continues to cook from heat of skillet. In separate pan, cook bacon until crisp. Chop bacon into small pieces. In bowl, whisk together eggs, cheese, salt and pepper. Add bacon to egg mixture. Remove potato mixture from skillet. Melt remaining tbsp of butter over medium heat, and add egg mixture. Carefully scoop potato mixture into eggs so evenly distributed. Cook, covered, over medium heat for 5 minutes, until bottom is set but top is runny. Carefully lift the skillet into the broiler and broil, uncovered for 3-4 minutes, until top is golden brown. Let sit for 5 minutes. Slice into 4- 6 wedges and serve.

the world through Chris Jordan's eyes

2007-05-21T08:39:00.000-07:00

It’s said a picture is worth a thousand words, but often it is a picture combined with words that provides the most resonating message. Last week, I came across the work of Chris Jordan, an artist who's major works focus on visually capturing our collective impact on the planet and ourselves.

Running the Numbers: An American Self-Portrait, is his most recent collection, focuses on capturing our culture through visual quantifications, with images depicting statistics such as the number of SUV's we drive, the number of cigarettes we smoke, and the number of plastic bottles we discard. While the photographs themselves are brilliant, often stunning works of design, it is the captions—the words that accompany each work—that make each image truly powerful. These words remind us that Jordan's works are not simply talented framings of inanimate objects, they are vivid explorations on our impact, through a resonating medium where the visual meets the literal.

When you're done browsing through his image galleries, be sure to glance at his artist's statement, which strikes a frightening chord:

"The pervasiveness of our consumerism holds a seductive kind of mob mentality. Collectively we are committing a vast and unsustainable act of taking, but we each are anonymous and no one is in charge or accountable for the consequences. I fear that in this process we are doing irreparable harm to our planet and to our individual spirits."

While our anonymity and our consumerist drive aren't going anywhere, perhaps we can begin to think twice before we swipe. Jordan is certainly pulling out all stops to encourage us to do so. He explains, "So my hope is that these photographs can serve as portals to a kind of cultural self-inquiry. It may not be the most comfortable terrain, but I have heard it said that in risking self-awareness, at least we know that we are awake."

Since coming across his website, I haven’t been able to get his starkly honest images—and their accompanying messages—out of my head. Intrigued by his explanation of Running the Numbers--"My only caveat about this series is that the prints must be seen in person to be experienced the way they are intended."--I hope I have the chance to see an actual installation. (Kids out on the east coast: Von Lintel Gallery, New York, June 14 to July 30. Kids out on the west: Armory Center for the Arts, Pasadena, CA, June 30-September). www.chrisjordan.com

Local Pleasures

2007-05-11T19:27:00.000-07:00

I feel graced. For the past three or so weeks, I've found myself within two blocks of a farmers market not once, but twice a week, now that the summer-only market commenced in downtown San Diego (Thursdays, North end of Horton Plaza). This means that for the past few weeks I've found myself faced with an abundance of local goodies at a time during the week when I otherwise would have run out from the weekend before (Saturdays, Pacific Beach Drive and Mission Blvd.). I feel like a teenager who’s just gotten her first job and suddenly has a steady income of wealth, giddily unsure what to do with it all.

Needless to say, I've been spending many more hours in the kitchen, usually after I've spent all afternoon after Thursday’s lunch hour thinking about the bag of goodies I've treated myself to. Trust me, you can’t just steam a bunch of these farmers market veggies—this time a year everything is so gorgeous it would be a disservice to prepare them in anything less than a glorious, celebratory manner. Add to this the fact that I’m growing less and less fond of my neighbor next door (a Ralph's grocery—don’t get me started), I've been challenging myself to come up with dinner concoctions that rely as much as possible on the local bounty.

This week, as I strolled through the somewhat small, but nevertheless bustling, downtown market, I was drawn instantly to one thing—yellow squash. These medium sized beauties were positively glowing—not only were they a perfect golden yellow, their skin glistened, radiant. How could I not scoop up a handful? Down the table I eyed the broccoli, which I had been eyeing for weeks but passing up in favor of string beans, peas, and fava beans. But today felt like a broccoli day. And, broccoli and squash in hand, I was inspired—I had the perfect notion of how to properly celebrate the two. I quickly spun through the rest of the market, grabbing a luscious sweet onion here, and a few tender Carlsbad tomatoes there. With the garlic I had bought last Saturday, the Swiss chard begging to be picked in my garden, and the opened bottle of wine in my fridge, I knew I was all set.

On the bus ride home from work, I thought of my work ahead. Pasta primavera, the ultimate springtime dish, seemed a natural choice, but how to ensure I did it right? I decided to look up the classic recipe, the one that started it all, from Le Cirque in New York from the 1970’s. As it goes, Sirio Maccioni, owner and chef (at the time), faced with having to serve a large party with little notice, looked around his kitchen and, much the same way fresh produce can inspire anyone, came up with the dish, pasta with spring vegetables, or pasta primavera.

Maccioni’s version, while indeed a classic, is also incredibly time consuming, as it involves cooking each vegetable separately before combining them all with the pasta. Luckily, my favorite go-to source for recipes, Cook's Illustrated, reworked the dish some years back. Intent on preparing the Cook's version, I was about to head to the dreaded Ralph's for the two ingredients I needed—pasta and cream—when I couldn’t help but think the cream might be just a tad too harsh on this fine summer evening. And then it hit me—thanks to a mention of the possibility in Bon Appetit recently (in the form of a recipe for Brie, pasta, tomatoes, and olives from the May 07 issue)—I remembered I’d been dying to work Brie into a pasta dish.

Half an hour later, as I was stirring the Brie in with the tomatoes, I realized what I was making: Pasta Brie-mavera.

Pasta Brie-mavera

Serves 4

Ingredients:

4 tsps. butter

1 head broccoli, stalks removed, cut into tiny florets

1 medium yellow squash, halved and sliced

½ head swiss chard (about 6-8 medium-sized leaves), diced

1 medium sweet onion, diced

2 cloves garlic, diced

1 tbsp. fresh rosemary, diced

1 large or 2 medium vine tomatoes, diced

1/2 cup white wine

8 oz. Brie, rind removed

Salt and pepper to taste

¾ lb. fusilli, or other spiral-shaped pasta

Freshly grated Parmesan (for serving)

Directions:

Bring large pot of water to boil for the pasta.

In a large skillet, melt 1 tsp. butter over medium heat. Add broccoli and 2 tbsp. white wine. Sauté 5 minutes, until broccoli is cooked through but crisp. Remove broccoli from pan. Add melt 1 tsp. of butter, add chopped squash, and sauté 5 minutes. Remove squash from pan. Melt 1 tsp. of butter, add swiss chard, cook 2 minutes. Remove chard from pan. Melt remaining butter in pan, add onion. Sautee 5 minutes, until translucent. Add garlic and rosemary, sauté 30 seconds until fragrant. Add tomato, remaining white wine, and a dash of salt and pepper. Bring to a lively simmer. Cook 10 minutes. Remove from heat, stir in Brie, one chunk at a time, until cheese begins to melt. Cover, set aside.

When water boils, add pasta, cook according to package directions, 8-11 minutes.

When pasta is finished, reserve ½ cup cooking liquid. Drain pasta and return to pot. Stir tomato mixture until cheese is well-blended. Add vegetables and tomato mixture to pasta, blend to coat. Add cooking liquid, a little at a time, if needed to loosen sauce. Salt and pepper to taste.

Scoop generously into bowls. Top with freshly grated parmesan and serve warm.

website

2007-02-03T17:30:00.000-08:00

trying out a new format--blog on my own website. Might be writing more there than here.

duffystar.com

“Got Milk?” we all do. “Got Rich, Delicious and Affordable Milk?” now that's the question.

2007-01-17T22:18:00.000-08:00

Here's one for you. I've posted previously about how anyone who enjoys wine should find that reason enough to start caring about the environment, but you have to figure, not everyone in the world likes wine. What about food though?

I challenge you thus: think about the most delicious thing you've ever eaten--whether that be an amazingly ripe strawberry or an absolutely perfect filet mignon--and hold that thought in your mind for a while until you start to drool.

Then, read this.

While you are reading, let go of that succulent thought for a minute, and let a drastically different, sub-par meal creep into your mind, perhaps even the meal you last ate. As you are reading, think about the difference between the two, between the delicious, wholesome bite screaming with flavor, and the bland, unstimulating, possibly-questionable average meal.

What makes that difference? Sure, if you're comparing McDonald's to Filet Mignon, part of the difference is in the preparation, or at least the talent of the cook who made your meal. But most of that difference doesn't involve talent or skill at all. Even the most talented chefs in the world couldn't shape a McDonald's burger into anything much better than a McDonald's burger (nor would many desire to even try).

The difference is in the quality, and the reason for the difference in quality is the land. The land on which our food was grown or raised on and the way that it was grown/raised plays an enormous part in what it ends up tasting like. It also plays an enormous part in how sustainable individual farming practices are, although when our stomachs are growling that's not always the first thing that comes to mind.

What hopefully does come to mind, however, is that delicious, mouthwatering bite you were thinking about minutes ago, and my hope is that after you read what Dan Barber has to say (which was published as an op-ed in the New York Times earlier this week), you too will want to seek out the sustainable, mindfully raised, and flavorful foods rather than the mass-produced, factory-farmed, by-product-causing bland ones.

Yes, all of this may be about another reason why we need to care about the Earth, but it's also about a gratifying and delicious decision we're able to make each time we sit down to a meal. And that's just the point--sometimes the best thing we can do for ourselves is the best thing we can do for the world.

Well go on. Here are two resources to help you find bursting-with-flavor sustainably-raised produce in your area:

http://www.sustainabletable.org/

http://www.localharvest.org/

Thinking Green, in more ways than one

2006-11-10T16:34:00.000-08:00

Last week, Nicholas Stern, former chief economist of the world bank, unveiled The Stern Report, an extensive analysis of the "cost" of global warming. The report takes a major step in the consideration of global warming, because it casts environmental issues in a light usually far removed from the environment: economics.

Yes, the Stern Report concluded, even staunch economists need be concerned about global warming because it will prove to be detrimental to our thriving economy (among other things). David Suzuki sums up the report concisely and resonatingly here.

(Got some time to kill? Download the complete 700-page report here.)

election day blues

2006-11-07T10:34:00.000-08:00

As I stared down at my ballot this morning, slowly filling in the bubbles, I found myself quite contemplative. Once a year we're asked to think about the future, to make our individual voices anonymously heard, to select the individuals we want shaping our lives and the rules we live by. Yet sometimes politics seems so trivial--just think of the enormous amounts of energy, dollars, and resources spent each year to fuel political rivalries, fight fierce campaign battles, and promote bureaucratic propositions to funnel funding here or redirect tax revenue there.

Undoubtedly, I care about a good number of these political fights, some more passionately than others. Yet sometimes I wish we could just send each other messages without subversive undertones, base our actions on honesty rather than strategy, and focus our efforts on putting forth messages that actually benefit the common good.

Serendipitously, after returning home from the polls I came across a message so perfect I had to smile.

This mosaic apparently graces the entrance to a G train platform at a subway stop in Brooklyn:

Slow = 10 wines, 8 courses, 4 hours, and 1 happy diner

2006-09-11T21:50:00.000-07:00

I haven’t posted to this blog in a while—I’ve been tied up with a few other projects and have been trying to take advantage of as many long evenings as possible before the sun starts setting earlier and earlier. There has been a lot that I’ve had my eye on in the past few weeks that I do want to write about; however today my priority is once again food.

I’ve been reading Slow Food: The Case for Taste, by Carlo Petrini, the founder of the Slow Food movement in Italy, and stumbled upon a delicious passage in chapter one that I think deserves sharing; if for nothing else, the passage again reminds us of the delicate connection between food and the environment. The context of the quote is Petrini’s description of the evolution of his organization and the thoughts and objectives of its members:

“By now the overall intent and approach were well defined. The ‘arcigoloso’* was an alert consumer, filled with curiosity, who wanted to take part first hand and to learn; he or she frequented restaurants and wine cellars; shunned pseudoscientific presumptuousness and black-and-white pronouncements, respected the work of those who chose the food trades, and displayed tolerance. She participated in initiatives like the Fraternal Tables that undertake to bring aid to various parts of the world afflicted with war, famine, and poverty, because in the new millennium those who have grown, along with Arcigola Slow Food, to relish eating require two essential qualities: generosity and respect for the human environment. She is jovial and optimistic by nature and is able to communicate these qualities in daily life, and especially at meals: you can’t enjoy good food and be greedy and ungenerous at the same time. Nor can you be a gourmet and not care about the environment: people like that wind up as dupes, exalting food and cooking that are clever but phoney”

[* Arcigoloso is the name given by Petrini to members of the Arcigola Slow Food. According to Petrini, “The name Arcigola is a play on words: “Arci” comes from ARCI [Associazone Ricreative Culturale Italiana] but is also a prefix meaning “arch-,” and many founding members had a connection to the magazine La Gola (“la gola”=appetite for, enjoyment of, food; gluttony), so “Arcigola” suggests “ARCI-Gola,” and also “archappetite” or “archgluttony”]

Reading this description, I couldn’t help but instantly decide that this was exactly how each meal should be approached—with curiosity, respect, generosity, and awareness (for taste, but also for how food is prepared, where it comes from, and who you are enjoying it with). Luckily, I soon had a delightful opportunity to put this attitude to the test.

I had a dining experience last night that not only far surpassed every other experience I’ve ever had (combined) in being absolutely phenomenal, but that also embodied all of the wonderful aims of the slow food movement.

Partly in celebration of my parents visiting and partly because I have been pressured to go for some time, I made a reservation for four at Nine-Ten restaurant in La Jolla. I’ve written about my experience with wine at Nine-Ten previously, however no previous experience could compare to what I am about to describe.

The chef’s at Nine Ten produce what can only be described as elegant and ambrosic combinations of flavors, textures, and visual delights. Their menu emphasizes local produce from local farms, which changes often depending on availability of ingredients. The kitchen staff, I’ve been told, rotates taking daily trips to local farms for ingredients, such as Chino Farms in Rancho Santa Fe (who don’t have a website but their address is listed at the end of this post for San Diego-area readers), ensuring that only the freshest ingredients hit the table. What this means is that the food is not only fresh, but also mouthwateringly delicious. The chefs, inspired to tailor the menu to what is in season, are constantly working to create new dishes with more sensational tastes.

We knew the evening started out well when the Sommelier stopped by our table shortly after we had just taken our first taste from the bottle of wine we ordered, a 2002 Grenache from France. “That is absolutely one of my favorite wines,” he eagerly conveyed, “and you are very lucky as it’s the last bottle we have.” Shortly after, while we were savoring our luck and the tasty Grenache, a waiter came by with a complementary “taster” from the chef: a tidy puff pastry filled with creamy crab and potato filling. Little did we know this was only the beginning of an eight-course, four-hour event.

Next we found ourselves sitting in front of two dishes we had selected from the “First Course” menu. I managed to convince the table to try the fig and truffle salad, which consisted of marinated fresh figs from Chino Farms layered with delicately shaved truffle slices, set atop equally thin pancetta and drizzled with truffle oil. Any hesitation on the table’s part when ordering—“figs, really?”—was instantly forgotten when we all took our first bite. The combination of flavors (salty and sweet, woody and fruity) and textures (succulently soft, slightly crunchy, deliciously tender) made you want to savor each bite for as long as possible. This dish was paired with a pinot noir that seemed instantly refreshing and somehow complemented each of the distinct tastes on the dish. It was going to be hard to forget this dish as the dinner progressed.

The other dish on the table was a baby beet salad with roasted baby carrots, toasted walnuts, candied baby fennel, arugla, and champagne vinaigrette. While I again had had to do some persuading to order the beets, this time when the dish arrived, it wasn’t able to win over the anti-beet contingent at the table. Beets have a pretty strong flavor, and while the walnuts and champagne vinaigrette complemented them perfectly, they still tasted like beets. However, the table was pretty happy with the wine pairing with this dish: a sparkling chardonnay from France. Personally, I enjoyed the beets, and was also happy to learn a bit from the sommelier about what makes a champagne a champagne (grapes from the Champagne region). Of course, we were all pleased to find that even not-technically-champagne sparkling wines still were full of bubbly delight.

As we bottomed-up our champagne glasses of non-champagne, the kitchen was preparing our next round of deliciousness, again two dishes we had selected from the menu. These, the “Second Course” dishes, were what our waitress claimed were some of the “hidden gems” on the menu—smaller-sized dishes with intense flavors and combination of tastes. She was certainly right.

We first tasted the Maine scallops, which were served pan seared atop a slice of comfit roma tomato which was in turn atop a thin shaving of baby squash, all topped with piccolo basil, cherry tomato relish, and garnished with a black olive puree. I can only describe the precise deliciousness by repeating the first words emitted upon taking the first bite. “Oh my god this is the best thing I ever tasted,” a statement which could only be followed by murmurs of agreement from full mouths, as we all savored the delicate scallop and tart tomato balanced atop our tongues. This dish was accompanied by a chardonnay, which our sommelier explained was paired to combat the slightly bitterness of the tomatoes with the buttery creaminess of the wine.

The chardonnay itself was not to be ignored—we were served a 2003 Molnar Family Poseidon’s Vineyard Chardonnay, which was particularly described to us in terms of the environment in which it was created. The vineyard itself is named to pay homage to the god of earthquakes for creating the Mayacamas mountain range, which provides the terrain for these grapes. However, the wine itself is not only a product of the Napa land on which the grapes were grown; it is specifically aged in Hungarian Oak Barrels crafted in Budapest by the Molnar family and shipped to California to give the wines a distinct flavor. The flavor is further made complex by removing a small percentage of the wine from the Oak to store it in steel, providing just a hint of citrus and acidity. Who knew so many elements could play a part of one delicious wine?

We only reluctantly moved on to the next dish (after sipping the rest of the chardonnay and contemplating how many scallops we could have eaten if given the option). Yet, of course the next dish turned out to be equally as tasty as its predecessors.

Our taste buds took a dramatic turn from the light buttery flavor of the scallops to the deep, woodsy flavor of house made paperdelle pasta with wild mushrooms and veal stock, tossed with fresh herbs and the natural mushroom au jus. Our sommelier decided not to provide us with a wine for this dish, as he promised it would pair perfectly with the Grenache that was already on our table. While others noted how right the sommelier was, I kept quiet, contemplating the wonderfully complex mushroom flavors in my mouth, trying to pinpoint how exactly I would describe them. (I couldn’t). I can only attempt to convey their sweet earthiness, with the savoriness or umami that isn’t quite describable with words.

After lingering over the last tastes of the wild mushrooms as they dissolved in my mouth, we took a moment to revel in how amazing the meal had been so far. Thinking back on the five dishes we had been served, I realized the sweet figs, delicate scallops, and savory mushroom pasta had been far and away the most amazing and intense flavors I had ever tasted. I smiled at this, and realized it was exactly how a meal should be—the discovery of absolutely mind-blowing tastes, the delight of novel combinations of foods, and the unhurried pace of a multi-course meal where nothing seems more important than the present.

Once we had been left to contemplate our experience so far, our waiters returned bearing more dishes, and set beside us another duo of artistically adorned plates. The first consisted of a line drawn across the plate dotted with tiny agnolotti—small crescent-shaped pastas filled with a creamy cheese and chives. Each agnolotti sat atop a sliver of bell pepper or a baby artichoke heart, and was accompanied by an absolutely astounding parmesan foam. The dish, we soon discovered, was created by the chef mere nights before, when a fury of creative genius kept him in the kitchen until one a.m., until he was able to satisfy himself with an approximation of perfection. Due to this, our sommelier did not have a wine to provide, as he felt he hadn’t yet had the chance to evaluate the complexities of the dish in light to find its ideal partner. (A process which I decided would be a phenomenal challenge to undertake).

Beside the agnolotti dish was a bowl of Truffle Risotto with truffle oil, with scattered slivered truffles delicately balancing on top of the creamy starch. The risotto was perfect—a harmonious combination of silky sauce wrapped around firm granules of rice to produce a texture and consistency I had never fully experienced. This was risotto perfected. Our attention, however, was briefly drawn away from the risotto itself to concentrate on the slivers of truffles adorning the plate, as it seemed we might not have the opportunity to eat truffles again for decades. The crisp slivers melted as they touched your tongue, providing a hint of woodiness along with a shiver of delight.

We took our time savoring these two dishes, with the disappointing awareness that we were beginning to feel the faintest hint of fullness. However, we were not to be deterred, for our entrées were about to arrive.

Before our plates were delivered to the table, we were delighted to receive a surprise visit from the sommelier. Noting that our main entrées ranged from delicate halibut to domineering steak, he approached our table with four different wine bottles in hand. Proceeding to pour each of us a different glass of wine, we found our experience had now become the best of both worlds: we had obtained the camaraderie of sharing a bottle, but need not compromise by drinking a wine that did not pair perfectly with our entrée. Even my father, who expected the heavy-ish Grenache to pair perfectly with his New York steak, was provided a heavy cabernet that performed even better.

My Hudson Valley duck breast arrived atop grilled escarole and lavishly draped with almond foam. To its side a row of baby turnips and Thumbelina carrots swam in a stream of deep purple bing cherry & basil puree. I was poured a 2002 Oregon pinot noir, which as promised, served as a light accompaniment to the dark breast meat. The surprise part of my meal, however, was the delicate turnips, which seemed to have a hint of vanilla and provided a refreshing palate cleanser between bites (this, I discovered, was particularly helpful when demanding a forkful of everyone else's meal).

Across from me, a generous portion of roasted northern halibut, draped with Chino corn, and chanterelle mushrooms was served to my mother. The plate was shared with Yukon gold potatoes, and a sweeping pour of turmeric corn puree rimmed with balsamic glaze. This was paired with 2005 sauvignon blanc from France; 2005, we were told, being an exceptional year for sauvignon blancs in France, producing wines of a caliber not seen in the region since the 1960’s.

Next might have been my favorite looking plate of the night, with a massive New York steak of corn and grass-fed beef draped with a mixture of pickled corn and onions, towering over the most delicate looking fingerling potatoes, which were lined up in a row like tiny soldiers marching across the plate. Atop what appeared to be the lead soldier was perched the most petite vegetable I have seen—an infant potato no larger than a pinky fingernail. It was one of those presentations you feel guilty for touching, and there was something about the dichotomy of giant and midget on the same plate made you want to smile. So did the description of the cabernet (80%) merlot (20%) blend that was paired with this dish, which was described as being both “fatty” and “chewy,” which perfectly mirrored the qualities of the beef.

Finally, next to me was the second steak dish on the menu, two thick slices of a Prime Flat-iron set atop caramelized torpedo onions and a cipollini onion puree with confit garlic. This shared the plate with haricot vert (green beans), red wine sauce, and a potato accompaniment that was as far opposite from the previous dish as the definition of potato could stretch: a single, enormous cut of a perfectly crisp Yukon potato. Once again, the creative dichotomy made me smile. This steak was also paired with a cabernet, from a vineyard in an area of Napa that I believe the sommelier claimed was soon to have it’s own appellation (actually American Viticultural Area, or AVA) defined.

This, I again pause over, as the concept of “appellation” links what we consume to its origins. The word (originating from the French) implies that different regions produce different grapes (or cheeses, or other food products) due to the different conditions of the soil, climate, and elevation. The idea stems back to the 15th century, and has over the course of time been used to link the quality of the grapes to the conditions of the land. In the US, new AVA’s are defined when it can be proven that within the boundaries of a certain area, there exists a unique set of conditions that yield a particular grape. Serious wine lovers (of which I don’t yet claim to be) use appellations as one of the major criteria when purchasing wine, as often it is known that the particular characteristics of an area will yield a great grape.

But back to our delicious food. Most of the time, you feel your meal is complete after you put as much of a dent as you can into your entrée. Tonight, however, this was not the case. After expressing to each other how perfectly we felt our wines accompanied our dishes, and after relishing not only the array of textures and flavors on our own dishes but sneaking tastes of everyone else’s, we set our forks and knives down, although not for good.

Soon two more dishes appeared from the kitchen, this time far more petite than the previous course, offering us just a taste of some of the potent flavors we had missed from the menu. This, I discovered, was a brilliant move, allowing us to experience two additional intense bursts of flavor in just a few additional bites.

We first sunk our forks into a port wine braised short rib that pulled apart on contact, set atop more wild mushrooms, and surrounded by white truffle emulsion and herb oil, topped with deliciously brilliant potato foam. If the short ribs pulled apart on contact, it was only to have the bite dissolve in your mouth upon entering, literally causing you to sit back and shut your eyes for a moment of contemplation before swallowing. The potato foam challenged the delightful parmesan foam that was served earlier in the evening, pulling a close second in terms of the delight of tasting flavor removed from it's expected consistency.

The second dish caused a similar reaction, with tender smoked and braised pork belly presented next to polenta made from heirloom corn (from Anson Mills), topped with , black eyed peas, and slivers of okra. Anson Mills, I just have to note, is a small company dedicated to “the preservation of Southern heirloom corn, rice and wheat—and the artisan milling practices associated with them.” Heirloom varieties are heralded by the slow food movement, becoming increasingly important as farms merge with corporations, and varieties of crops are being bred for resistance, shelf life, and profit margins. Any kitchen that goes out of its way to incorporate heirloom varieties on its menu certainly gains my support.

After finishing these two delectable bonuses, we received a much-anticipated visit from sous-chef Chris Bleidorn. Grinning as he sat down next to us, he need only read our faces to find how we liked our food. Of course, he wasn’t done serving us either. With a bit of hesitation, we agreed to take a look at the dessert menu, and with no hesitation, decided we needed not one, but two desserts (after all, we had tasted at least two options of every other course, why should we stop now?). However, before desert was delivered, our waitress came over with a cheese course, which, Chris managed to slide in. With two tasty cheeses accompanied by candied walnuts and homemade herb crackers. we now felt like kings, (perhaps Bacchus?). Finally, when we felt we might not be able to eat another bite, our dessert was delivered, and our eyes lit up at the elegant cheesecake topped with champagne grapes and the not-often-seen beignets served with lemon gelato, candied lemons and candied mint. Speaking of Bacchus, I distinctly noted that the Grenache, which had managed to linger in our glasses, having been ignored throughout the other courses, seemed to now take on a hint of the qualities of port—strong and slightly sweet, the perfect, albeit unintentional, accompaniment to our final bites of this absolutely unrivaled meal.

Chris, I honestly don’t know what to say, not only in terms of our gratitude for this experience, but also in terms of your talent, creativity, and, in terms of that fig salad, genius. Don’t be surprised that we're already looking for the next opportunity to swing by…

For those in the San Diego area, Chino Farms is open to the public and can be found at:

Chino Farms Vegetable Stand
6123 Calzada del Bosque
Rancho Santa Fe (off Via de la Valle, S6), CA

The hours I was able to find were as follows, although without having yet made a visit there myself, I can't confirm them:
Fall/Winter: Tuesday-Saturday 10-4; Sunday 10-1
Spring/Summer: Tuesday-Saturday 10-5.

One last note: I'm pretty sure I'm missing a few details here and there, especially in terms of wines, which I hope to fill in with the help from my table-mates. Until then, I apologize for any slight inaccuracies, but I wanted to share this experience as quickly as I could.

What's this all about anyway?

2006-08-17T08:33:00.000-07:00

In case anyone happens to wander over here from muzzle of bees (where I snuck in a guest blog post), I thought I’d whip up a quick note as an introduction to this blog.

When I was a kid, I remember learning about all sorts of environmental issues in school. I did a project on solar power, and another one on why we shouldn’t litter. I think it’s safe to say that we all grew up being taught about the environment and why polluting it was bad. But fast forward 20 years (give or take), and how many of us are actually still thinking about those issues? I, for one, was not, and I know a good number of my friends weren’t either. Sure, I wouldn’t toss trash from my car, wouldn’t litter on camping trips, or leave anything behind when packing up from a day on the beach; I wouldn’t intentionally harm the environment but certainly wasn’t doing anything proactive for it either.

And then I thought about it one day and wondered, would it really be that painful to start actually caring? So I decided to give it a stab, and decided to write about what I was doing along the way, and you know what? It isn’t that hard at all.

So if you’re just arriving here, here are a few quick and painless ways I’ve found to get started:

1. Reuse your grocery bags. I found some cloth bags I’m a fan of but even reusing the plastic bags you have laying around your house is a start.
2. Switch out some of your lightbulbs to Compact Florescent Bulbs and save some energy.
3. Try staying away from traditional cleaning products and instead use non-toxic baking soda and vinegar to get the job done.
4. Try eating local at least once a week, and help cut down on the fuel used to transport food.
5. Go see an Inconvenient Truth (it will scare you into doing at least one of the above)

My hope is that anyone who reads this blog might just be up for giving one (or more) of these a try. If you're just arriving and need more justification, I hope you'll explore some past posts, which try to give a few good arguments in favor of saving this planet of ours. And I promise--I'm not asking anyone to turn into a treehugger or a vegan (not that there's anything wrong with that). I've just come to realize that a little bit of thought here, a tiny bit of effort there is something many of us can afford. And take it from someone who just started caring--once you start picking up on these habits they don't seem out of the ordinary at all.

Slow Food Sunday

2006-08-10T22:11:00.000-07:00

I can safely say that there have been times when I have literally cringed at the thought of having to order from a fast food restaurant. Now, it's not that I haven't dined at each of these fine chain establishments over the course of my lifetime, and it's not that I find myself "above" them at all, I just truly dislike the experience (not to mention the taste). There is something about the plastic sterile atmosphere, the grease seeping through the paper bag as you steal fries out of it on the drive home, and formulaic way the food is prepared that just doesn't appeal to me. This extends to the "made to order" fast food chains as well, not just the chains with cute cartoony mascots and heat lamps on 18 hours of the day. I actively avoid Subway, won't set foot inside of FatBurger, and can count on one hand the times I've sat at an In N' Out drive thru.

This of course, can be a point of contention in our apartment. I live with someone who 1. has purchased every item on the Wendy's $1 menu at once and attempted to eat it all in one sitting, 2. has performed the McDonalds' menu song live on stage and continues to know it by heart, and 3. i'm pretty sure still carries Subway club stamps around in his wallet (the program ended years ago). So from time to time this means that we end up in situations like last week, where one of us ran out to Chipotle for a take-out burrito while the other ran to the store to get ingredients to make homemade vegetable soup.

Luckily, despite these few instances where our taste buds butt heads, I think I've slowly been able to triumph over the fast food giants by proving that "anything they can do I can do better." This of course might seem like a ridiculous challenge to some, but I see it as a win-win situation: you don't have to eat carelessly slapped together hamburgers whose origins are so questionable you don't even ask; and you get to eat deliciously tasty stuff. I've made buffalo wings from scratch for the superbowl, deep fried homemade falafel just to see if I could do it, slow cooked a pork butt for highly-touted pulled pork sandwiches, grilled a whole chicken over a beer can (because why not?), made imitation Gus Burgers with veggie patties (a Charlottesville institution, which consists of a cheeseburger topped with a fried egg, featured in the annual Gus Burger eating contest) and whipped up countless dips, munchies and hors d'ouvres. I'd like to claim I am winning without contention.

So, liking to think that I am fearless in the kitchen and having a partner who is willing to try anything I concoct (to a point--Zucchini and Heirloom Tomatoes apparently are crossing the line), I decided to initiate the "Slow Food Sunday." What, you may ask, is a Slow Food Sunday? It's simple-you spend a Sunday afternoon preparing a meal entirely from scratch, using minimally-processed ingredients and local and seasonal food when possible, spend your time cooking consciously, aware of where your food was grown and how it is being prepared, and sit down with some friends (and maybe a good bottle of wine) for a quality meal. The term "Slow Food" comes from the slow food movement, which was started in Italy by Carlo Petrini in 1980's in protest to a McDonalds opening up. The principles of the slow food movement are those that I wholeheartedly embrace, and which without even realizing it, I have been supporting all along with my aversion to fast food.

The Slow Food concept "opposes the standardization of taste [ahem, fast food chains], defends the need for consumer information [knowing where your food comes from], protects cultural identities tied to food and gastronomic traditions [e.g. the importance of the family meal], safeguards foods and cultivation and processing techniques inherited from tradition [which does not include deep-frying large batches of potatoes] and defend domestic and wild animal and vegetable species [those delicious heirloom tomatoes, for example]." In essence the slow food movement encourages us to take the time to think about our food, where it came from, what it's value is, how it was traditionally used throughout history, and to savor its delectable taste.

So how is the Slow Food movement related to the environment? Quite simply actually, because if you reduce food to the most basic level, our vegetables, fruits, and grains are all grown from the earth, and the meats we eat all come from animals who feed off these grains. That we need to grow or raise (or I guess hunt) what we want to eat is a fact, yet often a conveniently forgotten one. Food, over the past century, has become slowly detached from the environment in which its grown, to the extent that we routinely come home from the grocery store with bags of chips, loaves of bread, or boxes of cereal containing grains that, despite the fact that we are going to easily devour these foods, we have no idea where they were grown or perhaps more importantly, how. While some of us might prefer the simplicity of picking up a convenient snack and not caring about its origins, the truth of the matter is, without adequate growing conditions, there would be no food for us to eat. It benefits us all to realize that if the planet's environment starts to degrade, the quality (and safety) of our food will begin to degrade as well.

The Slow Food Movement, according to its mission, "links pleasure and food with awareness and responsibility." It seeks to connect eating and tasting with the food itself-its history, it's cultures and traditions, the environment that it was grown in, the path that it took to arrive on your plate. When you think of food in terms of all of these elements, not all foods are equal. Some foods are grown more humanely than others, some are grown with a lighter footprint on the environment or with less pesticides, and some are bred for superior taste, texture, or color. What the slow food movement strives to point out is that those foods that are grown by local farmers on smaller farms not only have a reduced impact on the environment, they taste better too.

Just as with any other product you buy, as a consumer you have choices. When it comes to food, we shouldn't ignore the toll on the environment that the production of food takes. Food grown in a local garden takes only the nutrients of the soil, a water supply, and the sun's rays to be grown, ripen, and be eaten. Food that travels farther than garden to mouth needs an increasing amount of resources the farther it has to travel. Add in processing, packaging, and international transport and those resources start to add up. Some great statistics in support of eating local food can be found here. The slow food website reminds us that:

"Possibly, many are unaware of the concept of incorporated energy or, in other words, the baggage of 'hidden' energy that each and every product brings with it, derived from the use of fossil fuels required for its production, transportation, preservation, packaging and waste disposal."

By choosing foods that are local, organically grown, and minimally processed,
proponents of the slow food movement are naturally part of the environmental movement
as well.

So with this in mind, I propose to you the concept of the Slow Food Sunday. Spend just one day a week actually thinking about your food, where it came from, and how amazingly delicious it tastes when you prepare it yourself. This past Sunday was my first Slow Food Sunday, and I'd like to say it went off without a hitch. It did take a day of advance planning, as my local farmer's market comes through on Saturday mornings and I had to be sure to buy all I needed (although I admit there were a few purchases at a local grocery for some last minute ingredients).

After some consideration and some perusing at the market, here's what I came up with for a menu:

Homemade Rustic White Bread with Roasted Garlic
Heirloom Tomato and Grilled Corn salsa
Slow Cooked Tuscan-Style Pinto Beans with Sage
Sauteed Baby Zucchini
Baked Carrots and Baby Onions
Lemon Roasted Free-Range Chicken

A little hint of decadence, a little more time required than usual, but all in all an exercise in consciousness I wholeheartedly recommend, that in the end is an absolute delight to the senses.

Want to get started?
Sustainable Table has great resources to find out what foods are available locally in your area. So does the eat well guide, and FoodRoutes.org has a pretty comprehensive listing of local farms, farmer's markets, and farm stands throughout the US. So what are you waiting for? Next Sunday is only 3 days away!

Rockstars of the [last] week

2006-08-07T19:29:00.000-07:00

Last week, thanks to SubPop Records, I decided to declare a whole group of bands as the Rockstars of the Week (I just didn't get around to writing about it until now). My favorites among this group include Band of Horses, Iron & Wine, Jesus and Mary Chain, Mark Lanegan, the Postal Service, The Shins, Stars, and Wolf Parade, but the full list of SupPop eco-heroes can be found here.

"Green" SubPop artists (clockwise from top left): The Shins, Iron & Wine, Band of Horses, Mark Lanegan, Wolf Parade, Postal Service

The reason for this recognition? As of last Monday, SubPop announced that it was “going green.” Specifically, the company has decided to offset 100% its energy use through the Green Tags program offered by the Bonneville Environmental Foundation. Through this program, consumers purchase green credits to offset their non-renewable energy usage, and the green credits in turn support renewable energy sources elsewhere in the country. The idea behind the program, and similar programs, is that you can support renewable energy even if it specifically is not available in your location.

I do have to note here, that ever since I heard about the idea of carbon offsetting, I’ve been admittedly skeptical as to the extent it actually helps the environment. I mean, it doesn’t actually reduce anyone’s energy usage, it just allows them to feel good about their energy consumption by spending money on environmentally friendly efforts. I’d compare it to a crotchety Mr. Burns-type character hurriedly dashing off a check to some bothersome visitor just to be able to say “there, see, I’m supporting your cause, now leave me alone to my opulent and lavish ways.” Buying your way out of a situation has never seemed like a legitimate option to me, if by spending money you find an excuse not to have to change your low-down ways.

However, not wanting to pass judgment without completely understanding the situation, I decided to do a bit of research and actually discover what the benefits of this complicated financial and ecological transaction actually are. The company that SubPop has chosen to buy “Green Tags” from is Bonneville Environmental Foundation, so I went to their website first to investigate, as well as to the website of Green-e, which is a certification bureau that monitors programs that sell green certificates.

The idea behind green certificates is not exactly straightforward and not the easiest to explain. For a legitimate explanation, I suggest going here. For a layman’s definition, keep reading, and I’ll do my best. I’ve actually found two explanations; the first is pretty straightforward and the second leans slightly towards favoring the program, I think. The straightforward explanation is that a green tag represents the difference in cost between producing renewable energy and the market value for energy. Because the government partially subsidizes traditional energy sources, and does not subsidize renewable energy, the cost of producing renewable energy exceeds that of non-renewable. The green tag represents the difference, and when traded, makes up the lack of funds to allow renewable energy to be created and sold at the market price (as my handy graph above illustrates). Thus the idea is the more green tags bought, the more renewable energy subsidized, and the more that can be created.

The slightly, well, polished explanation I found came from within the renewable energy industry, and claimed that renewable energy can be divided into two parts, the physical wattage and the benefits associated with it. The wattage is the part that actually creates energy, while the benefits include reduced carbon emissions and non-dependence on renewable resources. It’s as if you separated the physical value of a Christmas preset and the emotional value of receiving the present. According to the Bonneville Environmental Foundation, “Green Tags represent the environmental benefits that occur when clean, new renewable energy is substituted for power that is produced by burning fossil fuel.” By viewing it this way, and separating renewable energy into two valuable parts, you can treat them as distinct (albeit related) entities, allowing the energy part to create energy in one part of the country while selling the benefits part to someone elsewhere.

The difference in these two explanations is not that much, except that one is strictly economic while the other tries to make you feel better about paying money for something you can’t physically see. What both boil down to is that green tags are bought and sold to support renewable energy. This is a highly regulated practice, where one green tag is issued for every 1000kWh of electricity produced (that’s kilowatt hour, the standard energy measurement, which you can look up if you want an explanation). Green-e is one such regulatory agency that monitors the number of green tags per electricity, to ensure that the ratio is strictly at 1:1,000, or that there is not more than one green tag sold for every 1,000kWh.

The idea behind the Green-e program is that there are many locations where homes and businesses don’t have the option of renewable energy, because their local energy company doesn’t offer it. In these locations (or any location) consumers who would otherwise opt for renewable energy sources can choose to buy “Tradable Renewable Certificates” (TRC’s) as a way of “offsetting” their nonrenewable energy use. Offsetting essentially means that you purchase enough green certificates to balance out the amount of fossil fuels you personally use. This extends to as many applications as there are ways to use energy, from your monthly electricity bill to your daily commute to your annual family vacation where everyone climbs aboard a gas guzzling jet (which, I just learned, use about 5 gallons of fuel for every mile!). In SubPop’s case, they have chosen to offset all of the energy involved in the company’s operations.

The clutch detail that both shocked me and probably converted me into a supporter of green tags is discovering the statistic that (according to Green-e) only 2% of the electricity generated in the US comes from renewable resources. TWO Percent!!! Here we are lamenting the price of gas, worrying about the depletion of the earth’s resources, and we have only progressed far enough since inventing photovoltaic cells to allow 2% of our energy to come from solar, wind and other renewable sources? That statistic alone makes me want to support green certificate programs, as they provide hope that with more financial support the prevalence of renewable energy will spread.

So should you by green tags? That depends on how much you can afford to. In terms of ease and convenience, it couldn’t get any easier. In the words of Sub Pop president Jonethan Poneman:

“I was, quite frankly, shocked by how easy it is to support renewable energy. Green Tags are a simple way for anyone to choose wind energy, which, in turn, lowers dependence on burning fossils fuels for energy.”

However, I still adamantly maintain that being able to say you support a cause isn’t exactly the same as making lifestyle changes to support it. So I think if you’re going to buy energy certificates you also have to make a considerable effort to reduce your energy consumption as well. I actually think that a great way to make this work would be to model the structure of some of the international environmental treaties, which add another dimension to the practice of purchasing green credits. In many of these programs, including those set forth by the Kyoto protocols, developed nations are all allotted a specific allowance of emissions credit, which allow them to pollute only a specified amount. If the nation goes over this amount, they have to purchase “credits” from underdeveloped countries who are not polluting nearly as much, or who are practicing exemplary sustainable practices. The idea is to reduce overall emissions world wide. Applied on an individual scale, each household or business would get allotted a specific amount of watts each month to consume, based on the number of people in their household, their geographic location, and other factors. Households that went over this amount would be required to purchase green credits to offset their usage. With this system, the development of renewable energy resources would not only be supported, the overall reduction of our dependence on non-renewable energy sources would be reduced.

Unfortunately, as we live in a country that has not entirely approved of using this model on a larger scale (the US is one of the few countries not to have ratified the Kyoto protocol), I can’t see this ever being adopted. However, this doesn’t mean that you and I can’t adopt this personally. Want to give it a shot? Pick a number on your electricity bill, and try to reduce or meet it each month. If you reduce it, good for you. If you go over, buy the equivalent in energy credits that month to offset your use. Hey, it might not be something the entire country would adopt, but it’s a start.

Shine on You Crazy Bathtub

2006-07-27T18:47:00.000-07:00

I can’t believe I’m even writing about this, but it’s an extremely easy way to reduce your impact on the environment. So today’s post is about…cleaning the bathroom. Excited? I’m not. I particularly hate cleaning my bathroom, and have this aversion to brining out the sprays, the mildew remover, the soap scum scrubber, and the toilet bowl cleaner and spending time cleaning the one room in my house where I spend the most time getting clean. But as much as I am not a fan of the chore, there is someone else out there who dislikes it even more—Mother Earth. Because long after our sinks, tubs, and tile emerge sparkling clean, all those cleaning agents swim down the drain, out to septic tanks, and slowly leak into the environment.

However, there’s an unbelievably simple way to avoid the bathroom guilt trip that won’t cost you an arm and a leg (as certain environmentally-friendly cleaning products will). It comes in a small orange box, has just one ingredient, and isn’t found in the cleaning aisle of your grocery store. This wonder agent? Baking Soda.

Baking Soda is the household name for sodium bicarbonate, a naturally occurring mineral that is safe to eat and non abrasive on the skin (arm and hammer actually touts baking soda’s beneficial effects), and ENVIRONMENTALLY SAFE (whohoo!). Commonly found in the baking aisle, baking soda is commonly used to help dough rise. However its uses are seemingly endless (there is an entire book devoted to what you can do with baking soda), and include cleaning tile, tubs, and floors.

I decided to test this wonder powder for myself, putting it to work on a bathroom that hadn’t been cleaned in all of July, even after July 4 weekend when at least 10 people passed through our apartment, a good number of them showering or shaving once or twice. I set to work on my tub first, mixing about a ½ cup of baking soda with enough water to form a pasty consistency (which is not a lot of water). A few “wax on, wax off” cycles of the sponge, and I was shocked to see the gray soap scum seemingly disappear. Soon the chrome was sparkling, the mildew between the tiles gone, and the tub whiter than it’s been in a while.

Need a little more excitement? I recommend this handy and frothy alternative to drano:

Pour a cup of baking soda down the bathroom sink; chase with a cup of white vinegar. Watch with excitement as the concoction foams up around the drain (ok, maybe not that exciting, but does your drano do that?). Let it sit for ten minutes then flush it away with warm water.

So, in the interest of brevity (who wants to keep writing, or reading, about cleaning the bathroom?), I’ll leave it at this: Next time you are in the supermarket, pick up an orange box and keep it under the sink, so that next time you feel compelled to clean your bathroom you can leave those bottles and sprays alone. Or even better, check your fridge--baking soda's deodorizing power only lasts for about three months after a box is opened, but can still be used to scrub that tub long after this.

For the lazy who have skimmed to the bottom of this post, here’s why baking soda is worth a try in a nutshell:

It’s no less effort than using any other household cleaner, and has the added bonus of not leaving your hands smelling like chemicals when your done.
You save both time and money by not having to purchase 10 different kinds of products to clean your bathroom, or even spend time in the cleaning aisle of the grocery wondering which one to buy).
You will have the guilt free knowledge that you just saved gallons of chemicals from entering our soil, streams, and air.
You have the added bonus of knowing you are avoiding packaging waste—arm and hammer baking soda is boxed in recycled cardboard.

So there you go. And hopefully this is the most mundane topic I ever post on, because I can't imagine topping this!

8/2/06-update: You don't have to limit yourself to baking soda either--I just stumbled upon this handy resource with all sorts of household concoctions.

Bright Idea? You be the judge on this one.

2006-07-20T19:55:00.000-07:00

Ok, I have to admit that when I set out to write this blog post, I was a bit more optimistic than I am now. I am still pretty excited, but I'm not yet 100% convinced that the change I am about to recommend is one of 100% convenience. It's pretty damn close though, so hear me out...

Compact Florescent Light Bulbs--what's the hype about and is it worth making the switch?

A few years ago, swayed by the “long life” sign that hung above a bin of these spiral bulbs at ikea, I tried buying a compact fluorescent bulb, just to see whether they were really any different. The one I bought definitely was—quite frankly, it sucked. It gave off very little light compared to other bulbs and I would compare it to one of those three-level lamps where you just constantly felt like it needed to be turned up a notch. I pretty much got ridiculed for buying it the moment I screwed it into a lame. And despite the fact that that light bulb is somehow still hanging above our coffee table (ok, it’s not the only light in the room and it's in this awkward hanging lamp precariously balanced on a not-so-stable hook in the ceiling, so there’s a bit of a risk involved that if the lamp comes down to replace the bulb, it’s not going back up again) I admit that my bulb purchase might not have been the brightest (sorry) decision. After this purchase I quickly abandoned and forgot about the idea of compact bulbs.

That is, until last weekend, when I decided to take another stab. After reading about Compact Florescent Lightbulbs (CFL’s for short) on environmental website after website, and then hearing that even Oprah (along with of all people Leonardo DiCaprio) was espousing the benefits of CFL’s (I learned this when some guy at the grocery store in front of me was buying a CFL and explaining to the cashier that he saw them on Oprah), I decided I wasn’t going to let my first experience deter me from trying again. So I shelled out 8 bucks at the local drug store, ignored the raised eyebrow that was staring at me when I carried the bulb home, and screwed it into the lamp next to the TV.

The result? The light was slightly dimmer at first, which I am chalking up to the fact that previously there was a 100 watt bulb and the CFL was the equivalent of a 60w. But other than that, I honestly couldn’t tell. And what’s better, no one else in my apartment could tell either. My condition in testing out the bulb (which still stands) is that if the bulbs fail to live up to their predecessors, I will gladly switch it out and return to conventional bulbs (at least until I find another CFL that works better). So far it’s been a week and the bulb is still standing.

This is where my initial optimism starts to wane slightly, as I recently went out and bought two additional CFL's, excited with the prospect of saving all this valuable energy. Screwing the bulbs into our outdoor patio light and then into the kitchen, I was in for a bit of disappointment. The outdoor light works great, as far as I'm concerned, but in the kitchen, it's a different story. I spent 30 minutes that evening sturring a pan full of turkey chili on the stove that looked yellower and yellower by the minute. I had to squint to see if it was done every ten seconds, and never really could tell. I'm going to have to say that I nix the CFL in the kitchen.

So I've come to the conclusion that perhaps the key to switching to CFL’s might be to strategically place them in certain lighting situations. Lamps that give off ambient light or lamps that are secondary light sources seem to work fine making the switch, however I'm not yet convinced that they're ideal for lights that serve as a primary light source--next to your bed for reading, in your office, or in the kitchen. I'm not ready to give up and will keep trying different brands and wattages before I come to an ultimate conclusion, but for now, I can't honestly say that these bulbs are ALWAYS ideal.

That said, I'm still going to devote the rest of this post to persuading you to try out CFL's for yourself. Perhaps you find a better brand than me, or perhaps you have 10 lamps in your house that don't really need that strong of a light in them, and in either case, I'll encourage you to at least try switching out one bulb and to judge for yourself whether you can tell the difference. I bought the one kind of bulb at my local hardware store, but there are plenty of options--check this handy resource for info on how to pick the right bulb for you.

The reason I’m so determined to find CFL’s that work and that seem like genuine options for lighting your home is because they make so much sense. Energy, at least in terms of global warming, seems to be an enemy these days. Every watt of electricity used by each of us translates into a certain amount of non-renewable resources usurped, a certain amount of carbon leaked into the atmosphere, and a minute fraction of a percent of the hard-to-reverse increase in our planet’s temperature. We are urged from every environmental group to conserve our electricity use, to use only what we NEED and not what we conveniently forget (or decide not) to turn off.

The facts about CFLs:
Switching to CFL’s uses one third to one fourth of the energy that regular, incandescent, bulbs require. According to environmentaldefense.org, this saves more than 1,000 pounds of carbon emissions over the life of the bulb. According to the carbon calculator at stopglobalwarming.org, this saves 100 pounds of carbon emissions (or $20) per bulb per year.

So that’s pretty much the argument for switching to CFL's. They use less energy—a lot less—which means that they help conserve resources, and contribute less to global warming.

Now for the convenience factor. I’ve pretty much come to the conclusion that there is no reason you shouldn’t make the switch to CFL’s. Here’s my rationale for the lazy, the stubborn, or the otherwise unconvincible:

Effort-wise, buying a CFL bulb is EASIER than shelling out $4 at Starbucks on your way to work every day and EQUAL to picking up a six pack of beer or a bottle of wine on a Friday afternoon.

CFL’s are not cheap—I spent $8 on mine—so I certainly don’t recommend rushing out to the hardware store and buying a replacement bulb for every lamp in your house. However, what I do recommend is once you decide to make the switch, to buy one bulb a week and gradually convert the lights in your home. $8 a week will buy you a lot—the aforementioned starbucks or booze, but also dinner at your favorite carryout place down the street, a slurpee a day from 711, or your taxi fare on the way home when you are feeling too lazy to walk. Hopefully your weekly budget can stand slipping in a lightbulb every Wednesday, and if it can’t, maybe consider skipping the starbucks while you accumulate 3 or 4 bulbs.

Once you buy a CFL you will have to change your lightbulbs LESS than usual.
The CFL I bought came with a guarantee that the bulb would last 5 years or I could return it for a refund. Not that I’m planning on keeping my receipt for the life of the bulb or anything, but it’s a reassuring claim. So if you are really lazy, or just hate climbing up on a ladder to replace those hard to reach ceiling lamps, these are the thing for you.

In the not-so long term, CFL’s will save you money, or at least not lose you any.
Once you buy your CFL, it’s like an investment. Since the bulbs use ¼ of the energy of a regular bulb, your energy bill should slowly start to cost you less and less the more bulbs you buy. Of course, according to wikipedia, it takes about 500 hours of use for a CFL to pay for itself, which, if you leave your lights on 24-7 is about 3 weeks, or with a more normal use pattern of 4 hours a day, is 3 months. Not an instant money saving scheme, but not to shabby either. Start by swapping out the conventional bulbs in your most-used lamps to see the greatest difference.

Need more motivation?
EnvironmentalDefense.org has started a CFL campaign, which by signing up shows you not only your own personal efforts but those of everyone else as well.

Sound like a good idea but think the bulbs are too expensive?
Here’s a sale for you.

Like the idea and want to take it a step further?
banthebulb.org is a pretty intense site taking CFL’s to the extreme. Lots of statistics if you are interested.

So that's it--buy a bulb, try it out, and judge for yourself whether you can sacrifice a little wattage for the greater good of the world. And please let me know if you find bulbs that you are happy with!

Rockstars of the Week

2006-07-16T13:09:00.000-07:00

Close friends and family know that I'm a huge fan of rock n roll (and not so close friends usually figure this out pretty quickly). Good music is as essential to me as good friends and good food. There's something about the rhythm, the passion, and the intensity of a rockin' song that captivates your entire body, brings a smile to your face and sends chills up your spine (occasionally, just occasionally, a song will even bring a tear or two to my eye). My favorite way of describing this is to quote David Bowie's bold line from Sweet Head" "Before there was Rock you only had God." I'm in love and I love it.

But as much as I love their music, I'm certainly not always a fan of rockstars themselves. There's a good number of amazingly talented musicians out there who just come up short in the persona department. Pete Doherty, singer for the Libertines and Babyshambles immediately comes to mind as a stellar musician who has just blown it in all other aspects of life.

Anton Newcombe of the Brian Jonestown Massacre, while lesser known, definitely lands a #2 spot on that list. (For and up close and personal glimpse into his unstable (and ridiculous) personality, I recommend the documentary Dig! The “rockstar personality” is stereotypically destructive, and there are many who fit the bill. From the very beginnings of rock and roll, substance abuse (Elvis, Jimi Hendrix, Scott Weiland, and countless others), violence (most recently/humorously, Axl Rose), and the occasional troubled soul (Kurt Cobain) have been as integral a part of rock and roll as the music itself.

But every now and then, you get a rock star who defies this stereotype, who realizes the world does not revolve around them, and who actually decides to do something good for that world. When this happens—and it seems to be happening more and more, especially, it seems, for rockers in the later stages of their careers—it deserves recognition. Because when you are famous for your music, you certainly have no responsibilities when it comes to how you wield your influence (certainly, a reckless persona almost seems as a necessity if you are to be a credible rock musician). Yet when a person or group has so much influence that their behavior and decisions are recognized and often revered by thousands of impressionable fans (think punk rock), it's always a plus (albeit sometimes a surprise) when their decisions will do some good in the world.

Some well-known conscious musicians have been able to do a lot with their influence. Live Aid and Live 8 sprang from this realization that musicians have an enormous amount of influence. Farm Aid was the same idea on a bit of a smaller scale. Many musicians have begun to use their music as a means of speaking their minds, and lately, everyone from Paul Simon to Bright Eyes has had a passionate, often political, statement to be made through song. My favorite, which when performed live was admittedly tear-inducing, is Bruce Springsteen’s adaptation of a Blind Alfred Reed song on his recent Seeger Sessions tour, where he both blatantly and subtly laments the administration’s poor response to the thousands affected by Katrina. You can listen to the song here, and if you missed the concerts, here's a great video glimpse.

This past week, a decision was made by a band that was nothing but conscientious, which is causing me to deem them the “Rockstars of the Week.” On Tuesday, Pearl Jam announced their Carbon Portfolio Strategy, which involves an investment of $100,000 divided among nine environmental organizations to support research and action. The investment, which the band hopes will help “advance preservation of existing ecosystems, restoration of degraded environments, and continued investment in clean, renewable energy technologies,” is part of the band’s goal to reduce their own impact, especially while touring (gas guzzling tour busses traveling thousands of miles are putting a dent not only on the environment, but also on band’s pockets—there’s a worthwhile article on this in the latest Rolling Stone which I seem to have misplaced…).

Not only are Pearl Jam trying to offset their own environmental impact, they are encouraging fans to become carbon-conscious as well. The announcement on their website encourages and invites fans to join the band in their efforts:

“We encourage you to identify and support leaders in your own community leading the charge for clean and renewable energy. In addition, we hope that you'll take a close look at how their daily activities contribute to the increasing amounts of carbon emissions in the air.”

The site also allows fans to be a part of Pearl Jam’s own Carbon Portfolio by making a donation through paypal (there’s a direct link on the site) to help support the nine organizations the rockers have identified. There are also links to several tools that help you calculate your own carbon impact. (Although, my favorite carbon calculator is still the one at stopglobalwarming.org).

Unfortunately, fans are probably not quite as excited about joining the band in thinking about carbon as they were to adapt grunge fashion 10 years ago (it somehow seems less rebellious, less cool, and well, less convenient than heading to the mall as a teenager). Yet there is a glimmer of hope that the trend toward environmental sensitivity can eventually become as ubiquitous as flannel shirts were in the 90’s. I'm not sure what it will take, but I'm certainly willing to join in the effort, and encourage others to as well. And hopefully there are a few of you out there who, regardless of whether you've outgrown your flannel shirts, will jump on this eco-rockin bandwagon too. Because if this earth gets any hotter, there won't be much need for flannel anymore.

if Larry David can care, you can too

2006-07-13T19:11:00.000-07:00

One of the many efforts of avid environmentalist Laurie David is the website StopGlobalWarming.org, which touts itself as a "virtual march" against the causes responsible for global warming. It's a pretty useful website, with lots of suggestions and information on how you personally can join in on the efforts. My favorite part is the site's "Carbon Calculator" which unlike other calculators out there, starts at 0 and shows you your savings both in dollars and in pounds of CO2. This means that as you do more and more things that positively impact the environment, your score (and $avings) increase. The other calculators out there I've seen calculate how bad your CO2 consumption is, and then prompt you to donate the equivalent in renewable energy to offset your Co2 use, and I can't help but think that asking people to try to reduce their impact by putting it in terms of dollars saved rather than dollars you should have to spend somehow seems more encouraging.

The neat part is that by taking a quick moment to "join the global march" (aka register with the site) allows you to log into the calculator as many times as you like, updating it each time you do something positive for the planet. The site is chock full of small things you can do at home, when traveling, and even when shopping, and my favorite category "Everyday cheap and easy" (activities range in terms of effort and practicality, with everything from committing to use reusable bags to buying a hybrid car).

Of course, if you aren't encouraged to "join the virtual march" there are plenty of profiles of "featured marchers" (read: celebrities, politicians, and anyone else with a selling name), each with a personal statement of why they have joined the march. I found a few words of wisdom in a particular profile, which I'm hoping will resonate with the extraordinarily lazy (or at least with curb your enthusiasm fans).

So if Larry David can find ways to help the environment that he can deem "a perfect opportunity for the lazy man to do something good without having to expend any effort," there's got to be something that you can be doing too. For starters, I'll encourage you to join Larry (and Laurie) on this march. In fact, to make it incredibly easy, you can do it right from this blog--just look for the gray box on the sidebar.

A GREAT reason to care about global warming (if you haven’t bothered to care yet).

2006-07-12T21:47:00.000-07:00

All I could say upon waking up this morning was WOW. Yesterday evening I was lucky enough to have taken part in a six-course wine tasting dinner at one of the top San Diego restaurants, and the tastes were still lingering on my tongue (or at least in my memory). For this I have a good friend to thank, as well as a good friend’s boyfriend, who happens to be the sous chef at the restaurant and who whips up a mean suite of hors d’oeuvres (specifically: smoked salmon canapés with American caviar, flash grilled oysters wrapped in prosciutto, malpec oysters chilled on the half shell, lobster bisque topped with lemon verbena foam, followed by a refreshing tomato water that effortlessly cleans the palate…I was happy before dinner even began). But before I start drooling recounting the delectable experience, I do want to convey what I found to be a tiny non-sensual highlight of the evening.

As the purpose of the dinner was to taste six wines featured from a small, family-owned Napa vineyard called Hill Family Estate, the owner and vintner, Doug Hill, took a few minutes before dinner began to present the wines and give us lucky guests a brief introduction as to how he got into the wine business and what life was like up in Napa. I was delighted to be introduced to the French word, terroir, which was used often in Mr. Hill’s description of the different grapes grown in his vineyards. Terroir, which is French for “soil”, takes on a specific meaning in wine-speak, and is used to describe the type of grapes that grow from a specific type of soil. It implies that the elements of a specific location—the type of soil, but also the altitude, amount of sun, nutrient density, drainage, and history of the land—have an enormous impact on the fruit that is grown there.

I couldn’t help but latch onto this word, and to begin to think about the significance of what it implies. “Terroir,” which is used to describe a group of vineyards that all grow under the same climate conditions, in one word immediately connects the wine to the land. It evokes images of workers toiling to pick the grapes, of the rain, sun, and wind passing over acres of vineyards, of the first buds forming on a vine that eventually will grow into the most perfect grape. Mr. Hill, perhaps subconsciously, seemed to be conveying his love and respect for the fact that it is the combination of elements—the land, the air, and the sun—that delicately interact and intertwine to create conditions that, when favorable, allow these tiny juicy fruits to be born from the soil. As he spoke his words barely concealed excitement as he explained that terroir does not necessarily need to refer to a region in general, but actually exists on a much smaller scale within vineyards themselves. The microclimiate of conditions can vary as much as every few feet in a vineyard, so that a line of grapes planted can have multiple soil conditions, and grapes at one end of a vineyard can have quite different growing conditions from their neighbors across the way.

It was refreshing to hear someone so connected to the land speak about how he had so much respect for it, as we often, I think, allow ourselves to become so far removed from where it is our food (and wine) actually come from. Grapes don’t grow in little plastic bags on grocery food shelves; they sprout from the soil of well tendered lawns, are carefully selected, and conveniently trucked across miles of highways to our local grocery. Finishing my third pour of wine, I contemplated how fascinating it was that the quality of an environment can have such a difference in the quality of the food that is grown there.

Cut to the next morning, when tired yet content, I slowly wake up. Checking my email, I find a daily update from Treehugger in my inbox (which I signed up for about two weeks ago) proclaiming that: GLOBAL WARMING WILL BE DETRIMENTAL TO THE WINE INDUSTRY (insert dramatic, scary music here). The culprit? The Greenhouse Effect. According to a new study published in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, the increased projected number of days during the wine season that will reach over 95 degrees in Napa and Sonoma counties (and elsewhere), affecting the delicate balance of climate and atmosphere that produce high-quality grapes.

In a July 11 article in the San Jose Mercury News about the study, I stumbled upon this quote, which I think says a lot if you think about it in terms of a much broader scale:

“ ‘This is a call to arms,’ said Karen Ross, president of the California Association of Winegrape Growers, which represents 1,000 growers in the state. ‘We need to pay attention now. We ought to start thinking about what can be done now to impact the severity of what might happen.’

That’s right ladies and gentlemen. Global Warming can affect YOU. Forget the fact that the planet’s atmosphere has been gradually increasing in temperature for decades. If it doesn’t affect us it doesn’t matter, right? The blissful ignorance of our convenient lives, having instant access to anything moments after we think of it makes it hard to think about “potentially” troubling times far into the future. Until something happens that makes us realize this might affect us directly, at which point we are suddenly concerned.

I want to take a moment to point out here that I am not so much criticizing this fact (in fact I cast myself in the same boat as the rest of you) so much as I think we should take advantage of it. The closer you can bring an issue to home, the more likely someone is to act. And that’s a good thing.

So I guess what I’m hoping is that with this post, the issue of a climate crisis comes that much closer to home for the percentage of people who happen to be wine aficionados who also are reading this blog. Anyone??

Well if this inspires you at all, here are some incredibly easy (think: using a Rabbit) wine-related suggestions of what you can do to make a tiny contribution to slowing global warming (of course there's lots more you can do as well...keep checking back for more non-wine ideas in later posts):

Open a bottle of wine, pour yourself a glass and savor the delicate complexity. Then contemplate whether you really want to deprive your great grandchildren of enjoying the exact moment you find yourself in (okay, this might be stretching it, but you have to get inspired before you act)
Conserve resources next time you buy or bring a bottle of wine. Spend $3-$20 on a reusable wine tote, here or here.
Walk, run, or take your bike to the store next time you find yourself needing to pick up a bottle or two, sparing the planet of the carbon emissions you’d release from driving.
Try an organic wine, or wine from an environmentally conscious vineyard, and show your support for companies that are sensitive to environmental issues. [note: I have yet to try an organic wine but if I find a lable worth tasting I'll be sure to announce it]

Why, if your boyfriend comes home with Styrofoam plates, it’s worth your time to return them.

2006-07-11T15:26:00.000-07:00

First, Just a quick note that it’s worth checking out this week’s Newsweek cover story—which is on the gradual trend toward environmental sensitivity—if for nothing else than to hear about a few creative solutions to the challenge of sustainability. The article dotes on resource-conscious architects, environmentally sensitive cities, and farmers beginning to grow as much corn for fuel as for food. Of course, it also brings up the fact that corporate consultants and marketing guru’s have already realized that the portion of well-to-do individuals who care about the environment form a lucrative market segment, and with a bit of research and creativity there are an endless slew of “environmentally friendly” profitable enterprises to capitalize on this trend (I’m not so much a fan of this). But aside from the fact that there are entire organizations devoted to the opportunities that this “$227 billion dollar market” holds, as this article emphasizes, the issue of our planet’s health is a real one, and that its health is on the decline. Which is an important thing to be reminded of from time to time. And while a lot of the changes that need to come to help prevent this damage are on a macro level, I firmly believe that a multitude of individual decisions add up to something.

And in that vein, I find myself today wanting to put out a simple message. Avoid Styrofoam. This, I guarantee you, is in many ways an incredibly simple and easy thing to do. In other ways, it’s a bit more tricky, but you can always choose the easy route and still be doing something.

My inspiration for this comes after a little trip to the grocery store last week to stock up on food and drinks for a barbecue/bonfire on the beach. Splitting up in the store, I headed off to grab some lettuce while asking Conor to grab some paper plates. Meeting back up at the checkout line (where I pulled out my handy Green Bags to pack our groceries in), I noticed the plates passing over the scanner for the first time, and instantaneously found myself asking out loud, “you got Styrofoam??”

Before the words came out of my mouth, I didn’t realize that a distinction between Styrofoam plates and it’s alternatives in the grocery aisle even registered in my mind. I guess that’s because I never even considered selecting Styrofoam before. What seemed like an obvious thing to avoid I guess wasn’t so obvious to everyone, because Conor turned to me with an innocent and surprised look on his face, also not realizing I cared about the distinction among the various kinds of disposable plates.

While I’ve always been subconsciously aware that paper plates are better than Styrofoam, I couldn’t have told you specifically why. So I did some research. I also walked the 150 steps back to the grocery store and returned the plates.

Three facts about Styrofoam:

1. Styrofoam is non-biodegradable. As with plastic, Styrofoam never fully decomposes when discarded. And not only does it take hundreds of years to decompose, the small pieces are often digested by animals.

2. Styrofoam is difficult to recycle. Compared with plastic and paper, the facilities to recycle Styrofoam are quite scarce. While many recycling centers accept plastic, and many cities pick up plastic recycled goods with their trash services, Styrofoam recycling is fairly uncommon, And, unfortunately, in the absence of convenience recycling options much of the Styrofoam we use winds up in the trash.

3. The process of manufacturing Styrofoam is dangerous. Styrofoam is essentially made by blowing air into the plastic-like substance polystyrene, making it big and fluffy. Simple enough, however the actual process of doing so is not exactly pristine. According to EarthResource, "The National Bureau of Standards Center for Fire Research identified 57 chemical byproducts released during the combustion of polystyrene foam. " Partially responsible for this is the “blowing agent” involved in the process, which commonly contain hydrofluorocarbons (HCFC’s), which omit fumes that deplete the ozone layer. This is recognized by the EPA has actually mandated a phase-out of HCFC’s, banning them by 2030.

Furthermore, another element of Styrofoam production has been found to be hazardous to the health of factory workers, who may be exposed to dangerous levels. Styrene, which is the building block of Styrofoam, is toxic in high levels, with harmful health effects which range from irritation of the skin and eyes to affecting normal kidney function. The EPA and International Agency for Research on Cancer both classify Styrene as a “possible human carcinogen.”

So, what can you do instead? Here are 7 ways to avoid Styrofoam, ranked from easiest to, hardest.

No excuse not to:

Select another option. If you are in the grocery store buying disposable plates, simply select the paper ones rather than the Styrofoam. Paper is biodegradeable, renewable, and recyclable, whereas Styrofoam is 0 for 3.
Split a meal with a friend. If you suspect you might have leftovers next time you go out to eat, try sharing a meal with a friend and sparing the Styrofoam container you would have received with your leftovers.

Minute amount of effort:

Use reusable containers. If you picnic often or bring your work to lunch every day, consider buying a set of reusable plates or bowls. These can even be found just a few aisles down from the disposable plate section of your grocery store.
Ask for your leftovers to be wrapped in foil or plastic. If you are taking half a sandwich home there’s no need to use up an entire container, just ask for some foil to wrap it up in.

Only if you’re feeling up to it:

Recycle your Styrofoam. Even if you are able to incorporate all the changes above, there will probably be times you come across Styrofoam, for example, packaging of many electronics. Yes, it might be a bit of effort, but consider finding a local facility that recycles Styrofoam.
Suggest Styrofoam alternatives. Suggest that your favorite dining establishments use Styrofoam alternatives for take out boxes and containers, and perhaps even point them in the direction of companies that anufacture biodegradeable disposable products, such as those made by simplybiodegradable.
Demand alternative packing materials. Next time you receive a package or shipment packed with Styrofoam, send a letter requesting they look for alternative packing materials. Ecocycle.org has even put together a sample letter you can use as a template if you are really feeling lazy. Download it in MS word format here.

So now's the part of the post where if I were talented I'd sketch a stay puft marshmallow man-esque creature made out of Styrofoam and paste it here to remind you that Styrofoam=not good. But my artisitc talent's aren't my strong point so you'll just have to picture that in your head.

come as you are

2006-07-08T10:30:00.000-07:00

hurray! I've started a blog. Now all I need is readers! So in what possibly might be a cheap shot, I am about to email a slew of friends and family announcing my blog.

So if you're visiting this site after receiving my email, welcome! Hope you look around and enjoy what is essentially evolving as "the environmentally friendly guide for the extremely lazy." Thanks for checking it out! And since I know that all of you have many lovely ways to spend your Saturday, I'm offering a reward for your efforts. The first person to send me an email or leave a comment on the site will receive their very own care package courtesy of yours truly, containing two zippered Green Bags for your shopping pleasure (for more about green bags, read yesterday's post).
Ok, I'm off to enjoy the great Southern California outdoors. Happy reading!

Day 1, or How I Begin to Save the World

2006-07-07T12:23:00.000-07:00

Before beginning to describe my first eco-friendly change, I feel like I have to give a little bit of description of where I live and my "neighbor" to the right. I live in an apartment that borders an alley, and just to the right of that alley is the loading dock to an enormous Ralph’s grocery store. This means that the entrance to said grocery store is no more than 150 steps from my front door (out of curiosity, I counted yesterday). With Ralph’s no more than a two minute walk, I have gotten into the habit of heading there frequently, which at times can be up to 3 times a day (the record number of trips from my apartment to the store and back in one day taken by anyone staying or hanging out at my house is probably about 15). Really this isn't as bad as it sounds--I rarely leave the store with more than a handful of items. But what I realized is that I always return with at least two plastic grocery bags which quickly pile up in my pantry.

Now I've always known plastic bags aren't the best thing for the environment. In fact, I even recycle a bag full of them every few weeks or so. But knowing how often I go to the store, combined with the fact that each time I use a bag it is only to carry something a mere 30 yards, I figured there was really no need for me to be toting new disposable bags each time I felt the need to make a Ralph’s run. So I decided to do something about it.

But was it easy? Convenient? Could I do something about it and not take more than a few seconds of thought and very little extra effort? The answer, of course, is YES. I spent about an hour the other day searching for cheap and convenient reusable grocery bags that I could take with me each time I headed to the store. After a bit of searching I settled on the green bag, which is not only designed as a reusable grocery bag, it is made out of material that is recyclable as well. The bags are also non-toxic (which is great if you just toss fruit and veggies right in), non-allergenic and water/odor resistant.

And these bags cost only $3. I found them through EcoBags's w ebsite, and opted for the zip-up model, thinking it would encourage me to toss a bag in my purse wherever I went. Here's my bag stuffed with groceries, with another one zipped up by its side. Oh, and Slidell the cat is a big fan of the green bags as well.

So is this worth doing?

First, the facts:

Disposable plastic shopping bags are a convenience barely 30 years old. They weren’t introduced into grocery stores until 1977 and weren’t manufactured before 1973, according to the Film and Bag Federation. Yet in just 30 years they have managed to become so prevalent that the US alone consumes over 100 billion plastic bags a year (according to Earth Resource Foundation executive director Stephanie Barger). Why is that such a big deal?

Three key points about plastic bags:

Plastic bags are made from petroleum. Petroleum probably deserves a post of its own at some point, but in a nutshell it’s an environmental enemy for two reasons: the process of digging for oil is harmful to the environment, especially the ocean, and the process of burning oil for energy releases carbon dioxide into the air, which contributes to the gradual heating of the atmosphere, aka global warming.
Plastic bags are non-biodegradeable. This means that as they decompose, they break into smaller and smaller pieces but never completely disappear. Furthermore, those small pieces release toxins that get into the earth’s soil and water and are bad for you, me, and the animals around us.
Plastic bags are disposable, which means that after one time use we toss them in the trash, or worse, anywhere we see fit. Despite the scene in American Beauty where a plastic bag is cast in a poetic light, floating dreamily in the wind, the fact that plastic bags are lightweight and can easily fill up with air actually causes many bags to drift away, ending up on the beach, in the ocean, where they inevitably wind up in the belly of a sea turtle (who mistake them for food). (sometimes, being so close to the grocery store, discarded bags end up in my front yard too).

Next, the convenience:

Initial Effort: comparable to buying a book on Amazon. All you need is internet access and a credit card, and ecobags will deliver these to your door. (Plus they sent me a friendly follow up email the next week asking if I was satisfied, which I thought was nice)

Everyday Convenience: comparable to bringing sunscreen to the beach. Ok, it takes a tiny bit of effort to remember to bring the bags each time you go to the store (I still forget the bags about one in every 7 trips but i'm getting better). And sometimes you have to deal with confused baggers when you ask them not to use a plastic bag. But they weigh practically nothing, fit in your back pocket, and have handles for the trip back home. Plus they carry as much or more as a plastic bag (and actually the non-zippable versions are the same size as paper).

Feel good factor: comparable to dropping a dime in the homeless man’s cup who’s always parked on the bench down the street. Notwithstanding some awkwardness having to explain yourself to an occasional grocery clerks (although depending on where you live and what type of grocery store I imagine this could vary--southern California seems pretty used to this by now), you get the pleasure of knowing you are doing something good EVERY TIME you buy something. Plus at least in the stores by me, you get a 10 cent "bag credit" for not using a disposable bag. And even better, once in a while someone will notice what you are doing and say "hey, good for you!"

Impact:
So you've decided this is something you can handle. Or maybe you're still deciding. Either way, what impact does this actually have?

According to Stephanie Barger (see above), the U.S. consumes 100 Billion plastic bags a year, which comes out to roughly 552 bags per household per year. So assume you purchase just two green bags and lug them to the store every trip. With an average “Bag Discount” of 10 cents per bag, your purchase pays for itself in 60 trips to the store (which for me is about 6 weeks). And in just one year you have personally saved 500 bags from being used, discarded, and winding up as litter, poison to marine life, or decomposing in landfills, releasing toxic chemicals into the soil and water. Other statistics from the EPA:

· “In New York City alone, one less grocery bag per person per year would reduce waste by five million pounds and save $250,000 in disposal costs.

· When one ton of paper bags is reused or recycled, three cubic meters of landfill space is saved and 13 - 17 trees are spared! In 1997, 955,000 tons of paper bags were used in the United States.

· When one ton of plastic bags is reused or recycled, the energy equivalent of 11 barrels of oil are saved.

Overall, for $3 a bag and the mental power to remember to bring them each time, you personally will be saving over 500 bags per year; 5,000 bags in 10 years; or (assuming you are in your 20's and live 60 more years) 30,000 bags in your lifetime. Do you think that's worth it?

READ THIS FIRST

2006-07-06T21:58:00.000-07:00

Ok, so I’m ready to help out the planet. And I’m not going to lie; I’m going to try to convince a few people to join me while I’m at it. But before diving in, I’ve found I need to pause to consider what this will take. We all know trying to save the environment, to stop global warming, and to preserve our dwindling resources is a good thing. It’s worth doing, and there are lots of people out there who deserve an accolade or two for their efforts. But can you or I, who don’t donate our lives to these worthy causes, actually do anything to help in this effort? And, practically, is it worth it for us to do so?

The aim of this website is not just to toss out my thoughts on environmentally conscious actions that would be great if everyone in the world adopted. It’s not to idealize about a better place to play. It is to present small (minute, even) planet-friendly changes that it might actually be worth a small sliver of time out of my and your busy days to do. Thinking about changes that you could make or knowing about changes that you should make don't do a thing for the planet unless you actually put forth the effort and make those changes.

So, in the spirit of inspiring like-minded individuals who find their days pleasantly filled and like them that way, I've decided not only to rate my eco-changes in terms of the impact it will have, but also on factors of ease and convenience, because, well, I like ease and convenience. And I suspect some of you do too. And let's face it, if I'm going to convince anyone else to make these changes with me, I've got a lot better chance of doing it if I can promise that it won't hurt them a bit.

My plan is to try to rate each small change I explore on several factors: The Initial Effort required to start the change, the Daily Convenience of carrying out the change, and the Feel Good Factor, or how you personally feel while making this change (which is completely independent of the Impact it has on the planet, which I’ll also try to evaluate).

I’ll do my best to equate each of these categories to a commonly known action, in hopes of making it easy to evaluate whether the effort is worth it, not just environmentally, but personally and practically as well. Because I’m pretty sure that if something affects the way you prefer to live your daily life a little too uncomfortably, whether it seems too extreme, too inconvenient, or just too weird, even if ultimately benefits thousands of people, there are lots of us out there who won’t make the change. I mean how many of us would honestly trade sitting on our couch sipping a margarita on a Friday afternoon, casually letting the cares of the work week slip out of our minds, for completely foregoing the margarita because we’ve decided to donate our couch to charity, then replace it with a bamboo-and-organic-cotton chair made by living-wage-earning employees, so that we can come home, sit on the chair while sipping on fair trade green tea in a reusable mug as we donate 10% of your income to environmentally friendly nonprofits? Let’s not get out of hand here.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy the ratings, hope you find that there is a thing or two that actually wouldn’t be that bad to try to incorporate into your lifestyle. I have a hunch I might find a thing or two that I actually don’t mind at all.

a convenient solution?

2006-07-05T12:11:00.000-07:00

I started this blog about two years ago and have managed to post twice in that time frame (not the most stellar statistic). I pretty much had forgotten about it altogether until a thought crossed my mind at lunch today. So after letting this blog harmlessly linger in cyberspace for a good 25 months, I've decided to resuscitate it from oblivion.

The thought of reinstating this blog occurred to me this afternoon, but has been fermenting in my mind for some time. Since watching an Inconvenient Truth a few weeks ago, I've realized that while I am a pretty conscious person, I really haven't been giving a damn about what kind of consequences my everyday actions have been causing. I'm no environmentalist, but I'm not a malicious person either. I'm just your average Jane, falling somewhere in between. With this in mind, ever since I left the theater with Al Gore's vision of disaster lingering in my head, I've been wondering what I--as just one person--can do to help keep this world from coming to its climatic demise.

So you have this blog--my attempt to recount an average person's exploration into eco-friendliness. This isn't about going to extremes--I'm not about to sit in trees to save the forests, or plunge into a vegan lifestyle, or buy a hybrid car (because i can't afford one). Rather, I'm going to explore my options to see what little things I can do that remain simple and economical, and that also have a positive impact on the planet. By recounting my own experiences and evaluating not only the effort but the outcome of my actions, I hope to discover that one average person really can do a lot to help this planet stay alive and healthy. Wish me luck!

a preface

2004-07-20T15:49:00.000-07:00

Below is the first post I ever wrote for this blog. While it's two years old and not exactly on the new eco-blog theme I've settled on, I'm keeping it up because it explains this blog's name and I still really like the quote (if you can get over the whole mystical buddhism thing Kerouac had going on).

..........................................................................................................................

shooting stars of thought are tiny glimpses of inspiration that may suddenly strike at any time, in any context. say, for example, the moment during my lunch hour when for some reason i felt compelled to start a "blog." or at least that's my interpretation.

i actually stumbled upon the phrase "shooting stars of thought" during a period in high school when i was infatuated by jack kerouac and dying to drive across the country. now even though the infatuation has faded and i've experienced the thrill of driving cross country without a schedule or plan, the quote has still stuck with me (i actually carry it around in my wallet). so here it is:

"There's nothing to life but the living of it...hold still man, regain your love of life and go down from this mountain and simply be-be-be the infinite fertilities of the one mind of infinity. make no comments, complaints, criticisms, apprasials, avowals, sayings, shooting stars of thought, just flow, flow, be you all, be your what it is, it is only what it always is...so shut up, live, travel, adventure, bless and don't be sorry."

so i guess you could say this site is an attempt to catch those shooting stars, to freeze the fleeting moments in the passing of time, to capture, collect and express the comments, complaints, criticisms, apprasials and anything else that i find floating in my mind, to give me a space to contain my thoughts so the rest of me can live, travel, adventure and bless without a hint of remorse.