Showing posts with label good reads. Show all posts
Showing posts with label good reads. Show all posts
learning to love the co-op
I shamefully admit I am really late to joining my local co-op. It's not that I never shopped there--and I was briefly a member of a struggling smaller co-op before it closed--it's just that I never felt like I went there enough to benefit from joining.But, times change, and since I'm trying to support smaller and local business when I can, joining Willy Street was one of the small steps I took in in this goal. At the heart, I am a non-shopper, and I hate going to multiple stores to get everything I need. Now that doesn't mean I hit the super-walmart, but it does mean I tend go to a larger, semi-local/semi-worker owned grocery, that has sundries such as toilet paper and bandaids and vinegar. And yes, the co-op has many of these things, but I honestly can't afford to do all my shopping there.
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Its not all roses, I've had some customer service snafus (but that happens everywhere), and I admit to feeling at times a bit of the elitism/smugness that can be a criticism of such shops (Whole Foods, anyone?). But at the end of the day, I'd rather get an enthusiastic lecture on kombucha than have a grey-faced stranger turn to me in the aisle and say "Don't you wish you never had to eat at ALL?" (This actually happened to me! I was too stunned to reply...)
This past week or so I have been reading Trout Caviar's excellent book (of the same name), much of which is about wild foods of Wisconsin and Minnesota. It fits in this discussion because he talks a bit about foraging in your own food-shed, helpfully including your own backyard AND your local businesses and markets. While I might not currently be much of a wild foods forager, I could relate to the idea of how your habits change along with your growth as a cook, gardener, or more thoughtful consumer. It's about having your eyes opened to what's available, whether it's an apple tree growing at the edge of a golf course, a cheese shop off the highway on your way to a camp-out, or a co-op a short detour from your usual bike route home.
more winter reading
Quiet days off are perfect for catching up on reading, and I had a slew of books come in on library holds over the last few weeks--funny how they all arrive at once. |
| some christmas gifts are more photogenic than others... |
I finished The Everlasting Meal, and while I liked it a lot, there was a little cringing at times. Its sort of like being at a party with someone who shares your political views, but with a bit more fanaticism. You (mostly) agree with what they are saying, but internally flinch at how it sounds to those a little less inclined in that direction. If a book or idea is meant to be a bit proselytizing, I think some temperance is useful at times, to make the message more receivable (digestible?). So I can imagine a new cook, dipping their finger into local and seasonal cooking, feeling overwhelmed at the elitism of all the ingredients and preferences. Still, I do think this book would be great for CSA customers learning how to get the most out of an abundance of weekly veggies.
For a book with the word economy in the title, there was a lack of real-life frugality at times. There was a section on how it was okay to purchase frozen meat--she did encouraged it even--but really, in what world can you buy locally produced meat fresh from the farmer? I live in a mecca of local foodie-ism, and our market vendors sell rock-hard paper-wrapped packages. Fresh meats are sold at our co-op (but were probably frozen previously) and some regional meat markets, but at premium prices. Buying in bulk and planning meals around frozen foods (even your own veggies) is a skill in itself, and rarely discussed in books these days. If people are to eat more healthfully and frugally, this is something worth learning. And teaching.
Also, as someone who lives in a "flyover state" I get a tired of the seasonal eating recommendations of Californians. I know this is a silly criticism, as so many great cooking and food books come from the East and West coasts, but am I the only one who gets tired of pasta primavera having zucchini and artichokes? It just seems a little too easy to live in a temperate climate and wax poetic about spring harvests of figs and apricots! But perhaps I am a grumpy Midwesterner in mid-winter.
Somehow, though, I am more accommodating to English gardening books, despite their happy tales sowing of seeds outdoors in February. So I am also reading Tender, by Nigel Slater. I don't watch cooking shows on TV, so don't really know much about him, but saw this book recommended in several spots. It's lovely, and so far I like his take on growing and cooking your own. I had to laugh when I saw photos of his veggie beds wrapped in box hedges, and thought "how beautiful, but impractical". Several pages later, he admits to the same thing, and I found myself warming to his style even more. The book has growing tips, specific recipes, but also vaguer-tips on seasonings and cooking styles for each veggie (pairings of herbs and cheeses, for example) which seem useful.
Finally, since Everlasting was such an homage to How to Cook a Wolf, by M.F.K. Fisher, I figured I should go back and read the original (I KNOW, I'm late on this one). What a delightful book, and one I intend to own for myself. Like Californian foodies and British gardeners, there is some translation that has to occur to apply to today's real-life. I am glad to appreciate having reliable refrigeration, and also kind of fascinated by the difference in food and economic struggles our country had in the 1940s. As for the modern reinterpretation of the book, I found myself wondering why it had to be rewritten at all? I totally understand the inspiration behind it, but like the re-make of a classic or foreign movie, it seemed mostly unnecessary.
positive reinforcement
Sometimes a book gets to you at just the right time. You know how when you were a kid, you'd sometimes read a book that was just beyond you, and it could or would ruin a story, or an author, for years? Sometimes forever? I had that a lot as a kid who's reading skills were often farther advanced than her emotional age.The same thing happens to me now with cookbooks, or just books about food. At the right moment, inspiration (I read Animal, Vegetable, Miracle at the beginning of August, I think, right as the preservation season was kicking in). At the wrong moment, lots of internal eye-rolling and a setting-aside to return to perhaps later, or maybe never. Same goes with teaching skills and techniques, some click with us, and some don't.
So anyway, I'm rambling, but this week's library book is An Everlasting Meal: Cooking with Economy and Grace, by Tamar Adler (who also, by the way, wrote the article I mentioned about Thanksgiving leftovers, funny how that works out). And I can see how this book, at an earlier stage of learning how to cook, might be frustrating. But this winter, in the lulls of short, dark days, it is in tune with my mood and my food cravings, telling me my instincts for improvised comfort foods and stretched leftovers are on the right track. It's not a book for following exact rules or measuring ingredients, it's about following the flow of ingredients and time and techniques into a matrix that becomes a meal, or three.
Last weekend there was a lot of baking going on, due to a dying furnace and a cold house. I made a big batch of pitas, and cooked up a pot of chickpeas for hummus, and there were extras of both. Tonight I stewed up a few pieces of chicken, making a broth, and made Chicken Fatteh. This is a middle eastern dish, I've had it a few times at a local restaurant. It's perfect for leftovers, even though I made the broth tonight it would be super fast with pantry stock and some cooked meat or vegetables.
Fatteh is one of those classic cross-cultural dishes--you can see versions of it in American stuffing or English bread pudding, panzanella, chilaquiles. Anyway, this version is basically a layered dish: toasted pieces of pita on the bottom, with stock poured over to soften. Add a layer of chickpeas and chicken, a little more stock, and then cover and put in the oven until warmed through, 20 minutes or so.
After it comes out, pour a wisked yogurt on top: flavored with garlic and mint. Add some toasted nuts--I used walnuts here, but pine nuts are more authentic--and maybe a little parsley for color.
Best yet, I have a quart and a half of stock remaining, which lends itself to the weekend's meals. I see soup, a browsing of winter vegetables, and more bread baking. A meandering path ahead of meals, one leading to another.
