Hunter, Gatherer?

Wild Mushrooms, people claim to hunt them but aren’t they really just collecting? Good Will Gathering

Hunting has always been the more glamorous half of the Hunting/Gathering couple. “I am going deer gathering” doesn’t convey the same element of risk/skill as invoking a hunt does. (It isn’t the word, the modern hunt, a declaration that one is going to drink beer in a blind for two days until a deer walks 20 feet in front of a loaded rifle, does little to evoke an ancient rite.) Yet, if a sweetie was telling me she was going to gather tomatoes from the garden, I think that would be pretty hot, but then again I think bifocals are pretty sexy, especially on a chain.

So hunting might really be an overstatement, except there is an actual element of danger. Chanterelles come in many permutations – One book tells me that all chanterelles are edible, a second reference cautions me there is a look-a-like of the prized culinary mushroom that is deadly poisonous, while a third book tells me only 7 or 8 varieties can be consumed. Granted, this information comes from books about food and cooking not on mycelium collecting but information like that has me leaving the mushroom picking to the experts. Well that and I abhor nature, okay maybe not abhor, but I do prefer the great indoors with books and comfort and plumbing and the occasional sip of aged whiskey. Plus I take that Man v. Nature battle as more than a literary theme. Maybe nature isn’t cruel and antagonistic but it isn’t very kind and nurturing either.

And then there is Man v. Man aspect: Nearly 20 years ago in Oregon, two mushroom pickers, originally from Cambodia were shot to death in a dispute involving harvested mushrooms and race. There are the nearly annual stories about foragers getting robbed at gunpoint for $1000s worth of product. Isolated locations, far from laws & their enforcement, valuable merchandise – it is like Scarface meets Deliverance.

To the point - wild mushrooms aren’t annuals, cropping up in the same location at a predicable time every year: They have to be tracked, sometimes using dogs, much like a hunt. Chanterelles, morels, etc are found in rural locales, wooded areas and mountains – terrain synonymous with the modern hunt (Or Rambo movies). Fingers aren’t enough for a harvest - the coup de grace is delivered from the tip of a knife.

I’m not sure I would call it hunting in any sense of the word beyond the way one hunts for misplaced car keys. Then again, due to the lack of photosynthesis, pollination and ovaries I wouldn’t call the edible fungal growth that grows above the ground a ‘fruit’ either, but that is the terminology used by mycologists. Still, I would be more upset about the implications of an Easter egg hunt before I would worry about an activity that puts people in the proximity of bears and snakes and funguses. Hunting is accurate enough.

The Fungal Gourmet

An autumn ritual is predictable as drinking at collegiate football games or southern looking birds, chanterelle mushrooms were at the market this week. Originally, I intended to top a small piece of steak with the wild mushrooms, but I decided to go in a different direction with the steak – horseradish cream at the last minute – leaving me with about a half pound of the golden trumpet-shaped mushroom and no immediate plans.

Although no longer a board certified professional, I do know my way around the kitchen. That and they were kinda of indulgence, an expensive treat - a fungal Ben & Jerry’s of sorts, so there is no worry of them going to waste. Right now, I am thinking served with fresh noodles, an omelet or fried polenta are still viable options - the mushrooms keep for a week so I have time to decide.

Being a good Oregonian, I tend to think of Chanterelles as a mushroom that belongs to the Pacific Northwest. In a way they do, appearing in the mountains and hills after the first fall rains – making it to the markets at the same time as apples, pears and squash start to show up – a regional demarcation of the changing season. Considering the mushroom is popular across the continent and found on 5 of the 6 others, sorry Antarctica. Even the name Chanterelle isn’t borrowed from the indigenous languages of the Pacific NW - adopted by English speakers from the French language (although French citizens also refer to the mushroom as girolle).

Cantharellus, the Latin/scientific designation for Chanterelles with dozens of different subspecies adding their own name, but to the non-biologist, the mushrooms are identified and sold by color: black, grey, brown, white and the familiar orange/yellow, the latter 2 hues being commonly available in the NW. The aroma is surprisingly fruity – plum or apricot, while the flavor is what used to be described as meaty, now the kids say umami – not really an upgrade in the better or more accurate sense, just makes people feel hipper to bust out the 5th taste element. Meaty enough, that occasionally it is compared to, believe it or not, chicken.

Unlike the little button or cultivated wild mushrooms like the portabella or shiitake, chanterelles are truly wild, wild enough that they appear with dirt and pine needles stuck to their flesh. A soft bristle brush helps move the detritus; in lieu of a special tool, paper towels work well, as does soaking. I know conventional wisdom says ‘no, water ruins the texture’, but the mushroom is 92-94% water, a good soak is not going to waterlog the food. The caution should be to pat the surface dry so the mushrooms can develop color, flavor and texture as they are sautéd – instead of going in the pan damp, where they will stew in their own juices. Once clean, cut to the same size so they cook at the same rate, sauté with salt and if you are still confused with what to do with your chanterelles, fresh bread, lightly toasted in olive oil makes as good of a vessel for the mushrooms as any of the fancier preparations.

Purple Herb, Purple Herb

Lavender? Really? Why? Herbal with a Cause

Last time I had lavender it came in shortbread – the combination of the cookie’s high fat content and the vast preponderance of lavender created an aftertaste that was evocative of soap. Nor am I huge fan of Herbes de Provence, the flavoring packet from Southern France consisting of basil, fennel, thyme, rosemary, marjoram and lavender, finding that the lavender ruins otherwise good herbs. Chopped fresh Herbs de Provence works for vegetables and lamb; dried the Herb(es) is used in slow cooking stews.

The problem is one of overkill – a little lavender goes a long, long way - unlike vanilla, where most cooks believe if a teaspoon is good, a tablespoon is better. Lavender is more akin to nutmeg, a spice where increasing the fraction called for can overwhelm a preparation very quickly. However, when used with restraint, lavender can be really good, really. It does best when it allows itself to sing in a chorus of ingredients rather than sing a song.

In antiquity, lavender was used as the main ingredient in a tisane, reputed to calm humors. Modernity’s equivalent is a lavender Martini, which does have a lovely scent, a slight purple hue and if drunk in quick succession, the ability to make things not matter as much as they used to; calming in its own way. Using the guiding principle things that grow together, go together, goat cheese made from livestock that graze the herb from rocky hills has a built in lavender flavor in just the right proportion . Combining lavender with rosemary rounds the flavor of both herbs out like a harmony.

Despite its fame in stews, the herb might be at its best culinarily in desserts. Where fat seems to amplify the herb’s flavor, sugar takes the edge off, lavender flavored jams are notable. Lavender matches together well with fruit particularly members of the prunus family - especially cherries, plums and peaches. Since the herb is looses some of its power in vinegar – something like lavender scented balsamic vinegar reduction served over grilled peaches would be good - fig ice cream flavored with lavender blossoms would be better.

Not to sound like a therapist but the issue with lavender is one of trust, it plays out in two different ways. First is the confidence to trust your ingredients. And it is difficult to this to do when you don’t use an ingredient often. Secondly, you have to trust your audience. If you want to use lavender, be subtle: Maybe people won’t be able to single out lavender as a mystery ingredient, but it is the overall effect of a meal or dish, not the recognition of a single ingredient, the reflects your skill and ability as a cook.

Ode to the Common Pear

Neruda liked his apples but I’ll take my pears.

Part of my attraction is the shape. There is a specific word for it – Pyriform. Not only a good scrabble word, but more germane – it is the adjective used to describe objects that are pear shaped. Women who possess pyriform bodies – wide hips tapering slowing up to a long elegant neck, very attractive - throw in bifocals and a Masters Degree and that might be my dream match. Conversely, men with skinny shoulders perched atop an extra large waist, not so attractive.

People can pretty much ferment and distill anything they want but when the French take Williams pears, what we call Bartlett Pears in the US, and apply the distiller's craft, the classic eau de vie – water of life – poire is produced. Occasionally, you will find a full pear inside a brandy bottle – this is done by tying empty bottles around pear blossoms in the spring and letting nature take it from there. I once heard a distiller claim this method yields about a 2-5% success rate – True? Possibly. Justification for the $80 - 100 price tag, definitely.

Although other fruit will do the job, I like layering pears in my bread pudding and spiking the custard with the aforementioned poire – Last week’s Saucyman commenter, platelicker, might have missed the birthday bread pudding (because any bastard can have a cake) but rest assured platelicker, you can order a bread pudding to go. Even though it is my favorite dessert in the world, pears aren’t limited to bread pudding - cored, poached in red wine, filled w/ mascarpone & drizzled w/honey is elegant and tasty. Chocolate or chocolate mousse can be worked into a poached pear equation easily if that is the way you roll. And a Thanksgiving favorite from the saucykitchen - sliced poached pears on top of a vanilla scented crème anglaise, packaged in pyriform piece of puff pastry.

Pears aren’t limited to the sweet side of the kitchen. Savory pears make a good match with salty strong cheeses like pecorino but the fruit has have a affinity with blue cheese – Stilton, Roquefort and gorgonzola are all make for a beautiful match or if you prefer, pairing. Pears sliced thin, placed on top of yeasted buckwheat pancakes and topped with crème fresh is a pretty good substitute for those who don’t have a caviar lifestyle or fish egg inclination. Pears, chopped in big pieces then braised with Napa Cabbage and saki or rice wine vinegar makes for an excellent bed to hold a piece sesame & wasabi crusted salmon. A ripe pear, pureed with walnut oil makes for a very nice salad dressing for bitter lettuces like radicchio or endive.

This week, Portland Farmers Market, is offering a chance to win a $100 gift card from Powell’s Books and a gift box of pears to the person who tweets their favorite way to eat a pear. If you can think of a better way to have a pear and more importantly, express your desire in 140 characters, join the contest. More info at the Market Website or twitter

Prunella DeVille

The calendar year 2000 was a simpler time – With the early days of the new millennium came promise and optimism. And among the few who would dare to dream the big dream were those who promoted the prune. The dried fruit, woefully misunderstood, relegated to the nation’s seniors and/or their constipated brethren, was about to receive a $10 Million makeover. The idea was to update the chronically unsexy prune into the hip, current, youthful dried plum.

Nine years into the experiment, the dried plum’s handlers collectively known as Pruners, aren’t exactly poised to declare victory. Sure some packaging might have been redesigned and the marketing style sheets may have been revised but few consumers have made the switch. Considering people have been using separate words – ‘plum’ for fresh kind and ‘prune’ for the dried variety since about 1350; well, 9 years into the rebranding, it might not be time to admit defeat either – give it a century or so before calling it a failure.

Personally, I wouldn’t worry so much about what prunes were called and instead spend the energy promoting the prune’s qualities to food enthusiasts. The fresh fruit is pretty good, the dried fruit is amazing: 50% sugar, 5% acid – it is all sweet and sour, similar to the flavor profile of Thai Food. Besides concentrating its flavors during the drying process, prunes also undergo Maillard browning, a caramelization of sugars that develops hundreds of flavors, phenols & esters along with antioxidants and brown colored hues.

It is an enzymatic reaction that produces the same result as grilling does – generating a rich flavor, meaty/umami on the tastebuds. This transformation is a taste cooks and food scientists alike work very hard to develop. So much so that prunes are used industrially as a flavor stabilizer in ground meat. More traditionally, prunes are added to stews and sauces to help keep flavors vibrant and fresh.

In the Saucykitchen, prunes are added while reducing demi-glace. Occasionally roasted with chicken and rosemary; always cooked with pot roast and red wine and generally chopped up with sausage, caraway and kraut for stuffed cabbage. In less lean times prunes are poached in sugar and preserved in Armagnac and kept in a glass jar in the fridge. Both the liquor and the fruit, which reconstituted looks amazingly like a fresh plum wait to be added to dinner and desserts. Especially good in chopped up in brownies and when paired with custard based sauces – just sayin’, I know no one actually craves a prune with vanilla scented pastry cream but in profiteroles or over shortbread, you’d be surprised how satisfying it is.

The phrase, dried plum, seems to be the type of result that happens when the people who promote a product hold it in contempt. I’ll take a good old prune in day of the week.

Pears and separately - cooking with Lavender next week.

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What are pluots and why are they so good? – Professing Plums

In 1990, after years of tinkering at his nursery in California’s Central Valley, Floyd Zaiger offered growers and gardeners a new fruit, the progeny of a plum and apricot called the pluot. Zaiger’s new fruit would be the best selling fruit in the plum category within 20 years.

The idea of crossing a plum and an apricot wasn’t Zaiger’s innovation nor was it a particularly new idea. Luther Burbank, mixed up the pollen from the two trees and came up with a plumcot. The resulting fruit - half plum, half apricot was sweeter than a plum, which is strange considering sweet isn’t the first word most people would use to describe an apricot. (Dried, Turkish and Jam are the 3 most common responses to apricot according to my completely made up on the spot survey.)

The pluot extrapolates plumcot's success - the stone fruit is 75% plum and 25% apricot abd is even sweeter and juicer than a plumcot. A faint knowledge of recessive genes, selective breeding and Gregor Mendel does little to help me understand how this equation works but I try not to worry my pretty head about things and just appreciate the fruit.

In addition to pluots and plumcots there are plucots and apriums (75% apricot, 25% plum). Many of these hybrid combinations are trademarked - both the scions that are sold in nurseries and to growers and the resulting fruit, whose copyrighted name is then promoted, adding value to the fruit in the marketplace. In addition to the different combinations of plum & apricot, breeders & growers also offer different varieties of pluots, plucots and plumcots.

Flavorosa looks like a plum, but lacks its acidic flavor. The Dapple Dandy, sometimes packaged and sold as Dinosaur Eggs, although they aren’t eggs at all, let alone dino-like, is a purplish and yellow-specked fruit that could be the sweetest of the hybrids. Flavor Queen is green on the outside, yellow on the inside and tasty all over. Its mate, the Flavor King sounds all hyperbolic and [stuff] but the taste walks the walk - The fruit which looks like Burbank’s Santa Rosa Plum is sweet but complex; delicious and juicy enough to warrant a bib.

The plum/pluot season is pretty much over in California. As is true for so much other produce available in the US, the Central Valley supplies the lion’s share of plums and plum progeny to the rest of the country. Washington, Oregon, Wisconsin and Michigan’s season all run a little later in the year and if you are fortunate enough to be near any of those states, you can still enjoy the fruit of the tree.

Pla-Pla-Pla-Plu-Plum

Saucyman, I want to know more about plums, what can you tell me about them that wikipedia can’t? Plum Crazy

On the west coast there is about a 6-8 stretch starting in mid-July that is plumocopia. (The suffix ‘plazooza’ has officially retired.) Unfortunately, the season is almost over. During this magic time, occuring between the tail end of cherry and the start of apple time, shoppers can find yellow plums, green, purple, crimson, red fruits and plums that are almost blue in appearance – it is white powder or bloom that covers the fruit, it is perfectly natural, which isn’t reassuring since mold is natural, but in this case it is not indicative of rot or an impending need to compost.

There are a few reasons for the rainbow of color: Plums are everywhere - either Asiatic, new world or old world in origin. Even in the free-swinging plant world, plums are thought to be promiscuous, pollinating any which way the wind blows. The fruit also have a special place in nursery history: Luther Burbank loved to mess with the tree, crossbreeding and generally making what are thought of as improvements – bigger, sweeter, juicier - to the fruit until he successfully produced the Santa Rosa Plum. In an era where man’s salvation or at least improvement in quality of life came through science and innovation, Burbank was a Titan. The Thomas Edison of the garden, the Henry Ford of food, his promotion of something as lowly as a plum insured its popularity. So much so that his Santa Rosa accounted for 1/3 of the plum sales in the 1960s and still holds 1% of the market share, being one of the few plums that are sold by name. Research indicates displaying a variety of colors increases the sale of plums, so produce managers keep the demand for different colors of the fruit alive.

Plums, as mentioned in a previous post, are members of the prunus family, which include peaches, almonds, apricot and cherries. Since this is something that wikipedia would let you know, we won’t dwell on the subject. Botanically, plums are closely associated to cherries, the main difference being a matter of size and concentration of flavor. And before you say “no, that can’t be”, try a really small plum, the texture, consistency and even the stone will resemble a cherry. The plum’s flavor does differ slightly from the cherry, the taste derives from its cousin’s almondy aldehydes and the peachy lactones with a nice mix spicy methyl cinnamate.

A ripe plum should be deeply and richly colored, firm but not spongy, the same consistency as a good cherry. The fruit can ripen off a tree, leave at room temperature and once ripe can be stored in the fridge for 7-10 days. Plums are the fruitdaddy of both Pluots and Plucots, which are new to the produce world, born in 1989/1990 and surprisingly account for 25% of plum sales but more about the hybrid fruit in the next post.

Gastrocissism & Self-Doubt

Is it right/acceptable to plan an entire meal around a dessert? -Saucyman

I have been posing that question to myself for the last 7 to 12 days. Professionally, I have planned menus around a type of wine, beer, specific ingredients, and when forced - attempted to match food to wedding themes. As a home host/cook, I have planned separate meals around the first asparagus of the spring, bourbon, a bounty of #10lbs. of chanterelle mushrooms - remembering a few meals. When I posed my dessert question to a colleague, he confessed to having planned a whole dinner around on a special sweet and sour pepper served as an appetizer – he counseled me that planning around a dessert is right and true – asking why am I even worried about this?

Dessert as a lynchpin to a meal isn’t the real issue. This is more about my choice of dessert than menu planning. Bread Pudding really limits dinner choices: Thai curries are verboten, noodles of any nationality are not a good match and non-pasta Italian is likewise off limits. Maybe, possibly one could go with rustic French – maybe. Mostly, Bread Pudding means regional US, specifically Southern cuisine. Of all the things I could want for my birthday, I really only want my all-time, hands-down, favorite dessert - Bread Pudding.

Confession: On the subject of Bread Pudding, I suffer from gastrocissism – being enamored with one’s own cooking. I don’t believe I am overly impressed with my own culinary skills nor do I think anything I cook is automatically better than what others create, make or craft in their kitchens. I like good food no matter who makes it, I always appreciate the efforts other’s put into cooking & hosting and even on the subject of my favorite dessert; I pretty much enjoy anything that dares to call itself Bread Pudding - I just like the one I make better than all the rest.

A combination of French bread and what can be generously called crappy bread: cellophaned – about a step above Wonder, all cakey and sweet, makes for a horrible sandwich but cooked in cream and eggs, where it dissolves creating a perfect texture, it is at its best. Layered in between the rows of bread are thinly sliced pears to add flavor and texture. And because it is good and goes well with the pears; a layer of cornbread pre-soaked in pear brandy. The whole thing is topped with vanilla/cinnamon streusel.

A pan of bread pudding could easily be my whole birthday meal, if it weren’t for other guests. So there will be grilled pork tenderloin stuffed with a combination of fresh figs and dried figs simmered in pear cider. The stuffed pork will share the plate with cornbread dressing and a fresh ‘gumbo’ of okra, tomatoes, corn, garlic and thyme. Throw in a bourbon cocktail and all that is left is to throw a candle in the bread pudding and sing a song of birthday.

It's the Size of the Glass

As a fan of a good cocktail and AMC’s Mad Men, I am both impressed and mortified with the amount alcohol the characters in fictional universe of Sterling-Cooper consume. Draper and company drink at the office, at home, while entertaining, on Sunday mornings. They drink and drive, drink and work, drink and talk, (which is occasionally the prelude to drinking and fornicating) – the show features about everything except for the drink and shower ala N. Cage in Leaving Las Vegas.

Jon Hamm may be the star of the show, but alcohol is the lead, inhabiting nearly every scene. Given the constant drinking, I am amazed the characters can stand let alone function at work, while parenting and everything in between. The most obvious answer is, the alcohol consumption is exaggerated, that people didn’t drink like their fictive counterparts. Except in interviews with the actual Ad Men of the era, there is some disagreement about the amount of womanizing that happened in the day but everyone pretty much concurs about the smoking and drinking that was done.

After all, it was the era of the 3 Martini Lunch. Except that the 3 Martini Lunch may not have been as actual of a thing per se, rather a symbol of managerial excess. I can’t help but think that the phrase 3 Martini Lunch is not too different from the other forms of ridicule disguised as corporate speak - derisive mentions of comp days, golf meetings, upgrades to first class on the corporate card – common business practices that are nevertheless dismissed by what Hugh MacLeod has called the ‘gammas attacking the betas’. Long before Jimmy Carter derided (and Gerald Ford defended) the tax-deductible, $50, 3 Martini Lunch, in the 1976 election, the phrase 3 Martini Lunch was used to debase what the workers saw as executive privilege.

But a 2-3 hour business lunch did happen in the Mad Men era. How could people even conceive of putting away only 2 drinks before heading back to the office to rack up billable hours? Because drinks weren’t as big back in the day as they are now.

The James Bond Martini from Mad Men Era – 1.5 oz vodka, .5 oz vermouth. From the Saucytorium’s most recently published cocktail book: A classic martini – 3 oz vodka, .5 oz. vermouth. An Old Fashioned from the Art of the Cocktail, the book the NY Times reports is the bible for Mad Men drinks - 1-2 oz bourbon. A not so Old Fashion from a bartending guide published earlier this millennium, 3 oz of bourbon? For Don Draper, beer was often 3.2% alcohol, modern ales are twice as strong. Wine was claret, mild compared to some of recent vintage strong reds that have an alcohol content in the mid-teens. Doubling the liquor in a drink takes its toll.

Mad Men is spurring an interest in classic cocktails but maybe the retro craze we could all endorse is the gruff bartender who claims ‘we serve small drinks to men who want to stay sober longer’.

Mâche of the Salad

Saucyman – You seem to like salad, so what can you tell me about mâche? I think it is part clover, my girlfriend thinks it is good, what can be done about this? Saladgrazer

Mâche, AKA lamb’s lettuce, AKA corn salad/lettuce or known to the select few as valerinaella locusta is a leafy green annual, native to the Mediterranean. A low growing hearty plant that paradoxically produces tender green leaves and is frost resistant – Now available year round but historically the greens have been a cold weather staple.

The green is said to be lamb’s lettuce due to its likeness to a lamb’s tongue. The reference to corn is because the plant readily volunteers itself among corn stalks. Mâche is related to both catnip and valerian – even though the plant picks up nicknames like NFL players collect felonies, the greens have avoided being tagged with a cat or nap diminutive. All the various names are very confusing: imagine a menu that offered a Cobb salad made with corn lettuce – what you expect? So most people now use the French, mâche to avoid any confusion.

As far as the clover goes, how do you know what clover tastes like? As far as the mâche, for such a small leaf, the plant packs flavor compounds – fruity esters, the fungi flavoring octenols and the lemon-rich citronellol. Perhaps a flowery, mushroomesque, citrusy green has too much going on, mixing the mâche with a neutral lettuce like Bibb or a slightly bitter one like red-leaf could, maybe, possibly mitigate the clover field taste.

My advice - eat your lettuce. Tell yourself you are doing it for the vitamins A & C, for the potassium. Eat your mâche because the greens are 93% water, which means you can hydrate with a 6 oz salad in a far more dignified manner than drinking out of a Sigg bottle like it's an adult sippy cup. If you have to put your foot down…would you rather assert yourself of what type of salad you are eating or getting dragged to IKEA on Saturday morning (BTW – try this: Do I make you go to Home Depot with me every time I need light bulbs?). Eat your mâche because your sweetie enjoys it and do you really want to do destroy that by reminding her how you feel about it each and every time the salad bowl comes out.

Get involved: Make a vinaigrette – hazelnut oil, orange or lemon juice with salt and pepper and pack a lunch for your girlfriend – encourage her to get her mâche on at lunch AND win points for being thoughtful. Plus if you are a good sport about the mâche most of the time, occasionally when you want to get BBQ and beer or pick up Popeye’s and watch basketball, you are going to be granted your wish.

Today's Catch (up)

It was a busy month of August - so busy in fact that I need a few extra days in the month to get caught up. Most of my posting energy these days goes to Portland Farmers Market. Facebookers and Tweeters can follow what is in season, what is coming to market and food related news of one of the best Farmers Markets in the US. We are portlandfarmers at twitter.com and anyone can become a fan on Facebook.

Brand new post tomorrow, answering a brand new question but today…here are some of the things I have been reading to keep up my food knowledge current:

What Would Michael Pollan Do? The author of In Defense of Food tells New Majority he will still shop at Whole Foods. I wonder if defending Whole Foods on the webpage of a former Bushie, David Frum, will be enough to get Michael Pollan boycotted by the same people who are angry at Whole Foods.

It's a fat, tax: The manufactured food industry is gearing up to battle a so-called fat tax. Representatives of soda and snack food companies fear a tobacco-like tax being levied on their products on the grounds of health. Interesting article in the sense that neither the federalies nor any state government are close to enacting such a value added tax. Even if lobbying bodies are paranoid, forward looking or some combination of the two – be mindful as satisfying as sticking it to the man with a tax seems, food isn’t tobacco in the sense you can quit it and be healthier. Value-added taxes have a way of punishing low-income earners and if we as a society are truly interested in what people are eating – how to make low cost, healthy foods affordable and as convenient as drive-thru ought to be the goal, not punishing people who don't have as many options as the rest of us. This needs to get done long before a tax is enacted.

Earlier in the week Salon, Co-founder of Bitch Magazine, Lisa Jervis was interviewed about food, cooking and feminism. A quick and interesting read full of ideas on how to eat well, eat better and eat less expensively.

Yesterday, The New York Times was kind enough to explain the magic of Pinot Noirs from Oregon.

Although Dave Eggers needs little encouragement from the likes of me, his new non-fiction book, Zeitoun, the story of a family in post-Katrina New Orleans kept me up half the night reading a book I couldn’t put down and up the other half sorting through the emotions and thoughts the book roused.


Today, I’m going to party like it is August 34th.