food for thought

shark burger with guacamole

the first real readings for our MIT food & culture course include a couple of articles from the new york times (one by michael pollan and one by mark bittman), an older piece (from 1970) by margaret mead and an even older (1942) piece from a wartime book called how to cook a wolf by m.f.k. fisher. they lay out a set of food dilemmas, from wartime shortages to a world where there's enough food for all, but we don't make sure that all have enough food to fad diets and general eating anxiety.  and tho' i look upon myself as a considered cook, conscious of such things as the food miles my produce has traveled and whether it contains gene modified grains, to whether the chicken had a good life before it arrived on my table, these articles left me feeling a bit like i'm not doing nearly enough and perhaps i should just pack it in and stop eating altogether.  but then i remember the perfection of south african avocados and sauvignon blanc and i dismiss that thought. you see, since they come from the same timezone as me, they're ok food miles-wise. (that is a prime example of julie logic, by the way.)

humor aside, we're all engaging some sort of logic that suits our purposes when it comes to food. i deserve this chocolate or this glass of wine because i had a hard day. it's ok that those shark steaks are from a porbeagle shark that's on the vulnerable list, because they were caught by nice fishermen from the faroe islands. and man, are they delicious (especially if you chop them up in the food processor, throw in a few spring onions, some bread crumbs and egg and turn them into shark burgers). i can just do with the ordinary milk because the store is out of organic and i don't want to make another stop. or it's ok that my avocados come from the other side of the world because it's in the same timezone as i am. this is how we shrug off the guilt of eating.

because eating has somehow become a guilty pleasure. there's so much to think about:  are the cows that made my milk or this steak producing too much methane and contributing to climate change? were these chickens that laid these eggs crowded in little wire cages, with no possibility of ever going outside? should i choose danish cucumbers, which are grown in big energy-consuming greenhouses or ones from spain that were grown outside, but had to be brought here in a truck? which is more environmentally sustainable? and without strict labeling laws, how can we ever really know the truth about the food that's available on our supermarket shelves? let's face it, they weren't exactly flashing neon lights about all that horse meat they were mixing into various ground meat products earlier in the year.

these questions are some of reasons we wanted to move to the countryside and have our own animals and our own garden, so that we could have a much better idea of where our food comes from. but even that's not enough. unless i special order, i can't buy chicken feed that doesn't contain GMO soybeans. i've taken to buying the whole grains - wheat, corn, barley and oats and mixing it myself, together with seashells for good eggs and for their digestion in general. we're by no means self-sustaining and have yet to have our own pigs, but we feel we're taking steps in the right direction. i'm content to only eat strawberries during the glorious few weeks when they're in season and can be picked in my own garden. but do i go without bacon just because we haven't managed to pull ourselves together and source a few pigs? i'll admit i haven't gone that far. nor would i do without olive oil just because we can't really grow olives in our climate. we're spoiled for food choice. and it just may be our demise.

the readings for our course have, thus far, raised more questions and concerns than they have answered and i'm neither done thinking, nor writing about this. stay tuned.

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brilliant website design and great stories - narratively.

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amazing photo project - strangers together

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i want all the neon signs.

in spring a (not so) young woman's fancy turns to...cocktails

the sun came out at long last this afternoon. the garden table beckoned. the birds sang. and after a long day at work, the lure of a relaxing cocktail was irresistible. but i didn't feel like an ordinary glass of my old pal chardonnay, nor was it quite warm enough to break out the rosé. the sun-kissed late spring air whispered of something a bit more exotic, something a bit seasonal, something sweet yet tart. in short, a cocktail worthy of one of the first late spring sunshiney days.

i stared into the refrigerator and caught sight of the bright jar of rhubarb syrup i made last weekend, bright and inviting, flecked with black specks of real vanilla suspended in its sweet, slightly thick pink goodness. we'd start there. there was also the ubiquitous bottle of schweppes indian tonic in the fridge-that's-not-a-smeg (sigh). i turned to the liquor cabinet and spied the bottle of thylandia genever, a danish-made, slightly golden historical (tho' newly produced) gin precursor with a whiff of juniper about it. hmm, it sounded perfect. and it was. i give you the rhubarb gin fizz...

the rhubarb gin fizz
it's pinker than this, i couldn't resist a bit of processing

much closer to the true color

you don't need controversial historical gin relatives to make this, use your favorite gin or even vodka. to make the rhubarb syrup, i cooked down about 30 rhubarb stalks (mine are a bit thin, if yours are thick, use less), very slowly with only a little water. after it was cooked, i put it in a strainer over a bowl and let the gorgeous pink liquid drain through, overnight, actually. i didn't press it a whole lot, as i didn't want any bits or pulp in it. then, the next day, i put the clear tart juice back in a pan with a generous cup of sugar (it was probably 3+ C of liquid) and a whole vanilla bean pod that i sliced in half and slowly brought it to a boil. i put it into a canning jar and sealed it, but it's already half gone, as we've used it to make sodas all weekend. as a soda, we had it mixed with plain water or schweppes lemon or fizzy water - it just depends on what you're in the mood for. but it's pretty heavenly with the genevere. tomorrow, i'll give it a whirl with the real stuff - hendrick's, my best and favorite gin (loved by a small handful of people, all over the world).

to make the cocktail, i poured about 3 shots of the rhubarb syrup into a tall glass, one generous shot of genever and filled it up with tonic. perfectly tart yet a bit sweet and with just the right hint of vanilla.

normally, i post recipes over on domestic sensualists, but this one seemed more like a moment of perfect clarity. i am brewing a rhubarb post for over there, so do check in with us soon. but first, grab yourself a nice springy cocktail.

what we've apparently forgotten along the way

i've been rereading laura ingalls wilder's little house books (thanks bee for the idea) and i realize that we don't know how to do anything anymore (except google stuff). i'm so struck by how much ma and pa could do. everything from process maple syrup from tree to a usable sugar supply for the winter, to tanning hides, to butchering a hog, to building a sod house to sowing and harvesting crops. we have become so distant from the food chain that the coming climate change is downright frightening.

all of this is on my mind thanks to the lifestyle change that husband and i are contemplating and blogging about here (after all, the blog is the medium of choice for thinking things through). regardless of what happens with the COP15 meeting here in copenhagen in december, we are all going to have to change the way we relate to the world. we're simply going to have to use less energy and what we consume will have to come from much closer to our local area. the life we know now is simply not sustainable. it's more and more indefensible that we treat the planet the way we do (she says as she's packing her bag to go to singapore next week, so she does realize she has a ways to go in transforming her thinking and her lifestyle).

so, in thinking about how to live in a more responsible way towards the earth, we're thinking about getting a large farm house that would be a property big enough to share with at least a couple of other families. farms houses here tend to be one big main house with often three barns/outbuildings forming a square courtyard. most of the places we're looking at have barns of solid construction that could be easily converted to living space (especially if you know an awesome polish guy who can help you with that). the idea isn't to go amish, but to have space to raise more of our own food and to share some of the things--like a kitchen and a car--that today we all think we need our own of--all while keeping your regular job. obviously that's the short version, but you can read more about how our ideas are evolving over on the livet på landet (life on the land) blog.

but i feel a little overwhelmed, reading the little house books. there's just so much i have to learn. so i guess i'm off to google a few things...