An Aussie Eats

This Aussie and his buddies went around the world in 44 days. Here's what he ate condensed into a one-minute video called "Eat" (if it's slow, turn off the HD). Brilliant.

Check out the other two videos, "Move" and "Learn." Lots of food in Learn as well.

When I see something like this, it restores my faith in humanity.

Pickled Logic

The New York Times op-ed page had a wonderful piece this week about the history of pickles in America. Reformers and nativists once viewed them as a demon's dinner, unhealthy and dangerous. How, one might ask? Their spicy and sharp flavors made people agitated and emotional, rendering them unfit for democratic society, or so the pickled logic went.

According to the op-ed, food busybodies expressed horror that immigrant mothers fed such an infernal food to their children and even infants. In response, settlement houses, the social services of their day, sought to wean families from their native foods and get them to consume calming dishes like chowder.

Thank God they failed. I love pickles. They are one of my -- indeed America's -- favorite foods. I'm reminded of a classic "All in the Family" episode where Archie nixes the idea of Chinese food at Meatheat and Gloria's wedding, saying he wants something "American, like spaghetti."

A number of years ago, we took a culinary tour of the Lower East Side of Manhattan (throughout the tour, the guide kept saying, "Pretend all these Asian people aren't here and imagine the streets full of Italians, Jews, etc.)" We stopped at a legendary pickle place, one of the last remnants of the Jewish Lower East Side. They had easily a dozen varieties in big plastic barrels. The pickles were sublime, each variety a variation of crisp, brine, dill and garlic. A treat and half.

This story shows how America has changed and stayed the same. We remain hysterical at times about newcomers "failing" to become Americans, but food is no longer a focus. In fact, eating habits are one of the few ethnic characteristics that we encourage and celebrate.

So I guess at least we can be grateful that there's no campaign to ban baba ghanoush and hummus. Progress of a sort.

A SAD Story

Food writer Mark Bittman has a reasoned, fact-based and intelligent proposal for fighting obesity and diabetes in today's New York Times. He excoriates Big Food for peddling junk to Americans, especially children, dubbing American eating habits they created though marketing and government subsidies of corn and soybeans SAD, the "Standard American Diet."

Because Bittman's proposal is reasoned, fact based and intelligent, it has little to no chance of success.

Bittman's conclusion, which he backs up with copious data, is that soda and processed food are responsible for much if not most of the obesity epidemic. These trends in turn are inflating medical costs that are at the heart of the budget deficit and many of our economic problems, he points out.

His solution: Tax these food items to discourage consumption and use the proceeds to encourage better eating habits and subsidize the production of healthier foods. Sure the processed food industry and the Tea Partyers will scream, but the federal government exists to assure the common good. Reason and common sense will prevail, he writes.

If only it were so. We have a government and a political system so dysfunctional that one political party is about to purposely crash our economy to destroy its political opponents. The GOP has adopted an ideology as rigid and unrealistic as communism, the fantasy in the face of overwhelming countervailing evidence that markets solve all problems, budget reductions create jobs and tax cuts increase tax receipts.

The GOP's descent into un-reason and fairy tale reminds me of the late Soviet Union. Like the Soviets, the GOP is increasingly trapped by a failed ideology. Faced with failure, many Republicans, like the rotting Soviet hierarchy of the early 1980s, insist the solution is more of the same.

I give Bittman credit for trying. But until this fever of un-reason breaks his common sense ideas will go nowhere, and America will keep getting fatter and sicker.

Opening the Barn Door

No more do I write a post saying that what's most interesting about Connecticut is often hidden than the Hartford Courant runs a piece about preserving historic barns in the state. I've lived her all my life, grew up in a rural town with many old barns, but had no idea Connecticut had such a rich, diverse and historic inventory of barns.

This is a fascinating article that illustrates the depth and diversity of Connecticut's agricultural heritage. Here's a link to the Connecticut Trust for Historic Preservation's historic barn project referenced in the article.

While the piece laments the loss of barns and farming, I am cautiously optimistic. I see a revival in micro-farming that is producing outstanding local vegetables and fruits, beef, eggs and poultry.

And there's another hidden Connecticut treasure. We have an increasing number of outstanding food producers.

Gripes, Grapes and Hidden Connecticut

The lead on today's front page New York Times utterly miss-characterizes my native state:

"Think of Connecticut, and what comes to mind are the swells of Greenwich, the exurban good life of Litchfield County, the land of New England steady habits."

Volvos and Ralph Lauren, that's all we are. (sigh). The irony of this story is that the picture accompanying it undermines the lead. It's of the governor standing with mayors of three of the state's biggest cities, which are most certainly not bastions of high end Swedish cars and polo ponies.

This is the second time in less than week that I've been smacked in the face with false Connecticut stereotypes. Over the weekend, I attended a talk by the author Lisa See, and she told the audience how the first time she was going to come to Connecticut, she felt compelled to shop for an clothes specifically for her visit. The clear implication was that she needed to appear in a some sort of yachting outfit.

The joke fell flat.

Yes, parts of Connecticut do fit the image of mansions and bond traders. But much, if not most of the state is very blue collar and ethnic. Cities like New Haven, where I work, look more like Brooklyn than Brookfield. New Haven's schools, for example, enroll immigrants from more than 60 nations. Sorry, no polo ponies where I live. Just a lot of guys who speak fluent Fugitaboutit.

But in one sense this misconception is typical of the Nutmeg state. I've found over the years that most of what makes Connecticut interesting and unique is hidden or not widely known outside of its immediate area.

This is a food blog, so I'll cite as an example New Haven pizza or "apizza" as its locally called. The city has some of the best, oldest and most storied pizza restaurants in America. Ever hear of them? Probably not. It's always New York or Chicago that get all the ink.

The New Haven Register had another example earlier this week. It published an article about the a new book on the history of winemaking in Connecticut. Before Prohibition, there was a significant wine industry the state, which has revived in recent years. Some excellent wines are now produced in the state. Not a total surprise given that grapes are on the state flag.


Vineyards in Connecticut? Who would have thunk?

So the next time you think Connecticut is just people who curl their pinky when they drink tea, think again. If only we could get the Times to listen.

Gochujang: The Yeti of Asian Condiments

Being a fan of Mark Bittman, I had to try several of his recipes in the New York Times Magazine a few weeks ago.

The Beef Bolgogi was stupendous, tangy and flavorful. I pretty much followed the recipe, although I was a little short of scallions. A thunderstorm forced me to stir fry instead of a grill, but it was still excellent.

The recommended dipping sauce, gochujang, turned out to be as elusive as a live Elvis. Indeed, I can't help wondering if Bittman wasn't playing a joke on readers, like an old salt sending greenhorns in search of a left-handed monkey wrench. I scoured Asian food markets high and low without success, eventually going to one that specialized in Korean food. Even they looked at me like I had two heads.

Ah, gochujang, the Yeti of Asian condiments. It lives, so they say, but no confirmed sightings yet.

I also tried the Korean potato salad. Not successful. After blanching, the shredded potatoes and carrots were dead tasteless. It was like eating string. The dressing made the dish edible, but I wouldn't make it again.

In fairness, I may have overcooked the potatoes and carrots, but I'm skeptical of this one. Maybe the secret travels with the legendary gochujang.

Leftover Strawberry Sauce

It's strawberry season in Connecticut and the eating is stupendous. There's nothing like in season local strawberries: sweet, succulent and intensely flavorful. They put those tasteless rubber balls from Florida and California to shame.

Eating in season reminds you what makes a particular fruit or vegetable special. Corporate farming has provided us with year-round strawberries, but their taste is faint echo of the real thing. Yes, I buy them sometimes, but less and less. I'd rather wait for the real thing and savor it while it lasts.

With the season lasting three, four, at most five weeks, we gorge ourselves with strawberries this time of year. I hate to waste even a berry.

I was faced with that very prospect this weekend. I had a half basket left over from the previous week. They were on the verge, a little squishy, their favor fading. The solution: make a sauce-jam out of them.

I cleaned the berries, yielding a little under two cups, put them in a pot and crushed them lightly with fork. I added about an eighth of a cup of sugar and about a teaspoon of lemon, and put the heat on medium high. Once the berries released their juices, I turned to low for about 20 minutes.

The result was a not-to-sweet sauce with powerful strawberry flavor. My daughter and wife used most of it on the Norwegian pancakes they made for Sunday breakfast. My daughter finished the last few spoonfuls this morning at breakfast.