Go Ask Alice!

A second post today, inspired by (slow) food and foodies.. One of the many things that I love about my new home is the enthusiasm and respect for food. It happened naturally here, because a good portion of the country's produce is grown in California, and because the state has a long history of people demanding that their environment be treated properly. We've enjoyed eating at a variety of restaurants where we could tell that the produce was fresh, and each dish was crafted by following the flavor of the ingredients, and either indulging curiosity or upholding tradition in the combinations. To eat food like this is invigorating and, I think, healing -- having grown up in a food culture where convenience and affordability were utmost (understandably -- let's discuss that in-depth in another entry?), it's akin to the surprise of finding oneself in a beautiful, undiscovered pocket of the world. Beyond that, I'm not sure how else to describe eating truly fresh food, you'll just have to do it yourself (on a visit?!).

I mentioned in my previous post that I brought home some cheeses, and I tucked into them for a late afternoon snack, having only had a quick bite of lunch between shopping runs on the bike. I more or less blindly chose the cheese I got at the store.. I already had soft local goat cheese at home, so I went for a semi-hard cow's milk and a soft washed-rind French cheese. I like to try new things to find out what they taste like, but it's frustrating at times because I lack the solid foundation of knowledge that helps one make informed decisions, and the random manner in which I try things doesn't help to develop that foundation! Anyway, I laid out some bread, olives, Mahon Mitica (the cow's milk cheese), Pont L'Eveque, (the stinky French), and a generous scoop of Harley Farms' Apricot Pistachio goat cheese that we picked up on the last leg of my birthday tour. Now, each of these cheeses is pretty different in their ingredients, method of creation, taste and feel. The Mahon Mitica is chewy and salty, with a thin, dark edible rind. It was a bit overwhelming in large bites, but I liked its strength and ate a couple of black olives and bits of bread to break it up. The Pont L'Eveque is an ancient food -- it's based on a cheese made at least since the 12th century, and is traditionally eaten as a dessert cheese. This doesn't mean that it's sweet like a brie (although it looks and feels much like one).. au contraire! It's a pungent cheese that smells like mold to those used to fresh-smelling cheeses. Once you get it in your mouth, though, the creamy, earthy pate (inside) is wonderful, and the slightly chewy rind brings it together. I ate it with some bread, punctuated by oil-cured green olives.. definitely exercised those savory and bitter areas of my palate! And finally I indulged in the apricot-pistachio goat cheese. You can tell those goats are happy, because they make the best cheese ever! The sweet, tangy and juicy dried apricots liven up the thickness of the cheese, and the ground pistachio layer lends a welcome dose of earthiness to remind you where it comes from! I would eat this cheese all day, every day if I could. Good thing I don't have to go all the way to the farm to get it -- it's carried at a few local grocers'.. so dangerous.

During this foray into unknown cheeses, I roasted up my sugar pie pumpkin and sat down to start reading Alice Waters' The Art of Simple Food: Notes, Lessons, and Recipes from a Delicious Revolution. I may have mentioned Alice Waters before.. she's a living legend, though one I hadn't heard of until shortly before I moved here. She founded Chez Panisse, a restaurant in Berkeley, and unwittingly started a food revolution by seeking out the best, freshest produce and finding it at local farms. So all of the food served at the restaurant is made with produce gotten directly from farmers.. not such a mind-blowing idea, is it? Isn't that what all of our children's books show us, and isn't that how we imagine our food coming to us? Sadly, fresh food that doesn't contribute to the destruction of the planet is something that most Americans have to seek out, and usually a trip to the supermarket or a meal at a restaurant showcases produce that was raised using chemicals, picked early, and treated with chemicals to artificially ripen them while being shipped halfway round the world, using lots of petroleum on the way.

Alice Waters found that the only way to get produce worth using in cuisine was to get it locally (within 100 miles is her rule of thumb) and from the people who raised it. Since she had a restaurant, it was easier for her to develop relationships with farmers, but she also frequented farmers' markets, which you and I can also visit. Here in SF, we're lucky to have two farmers' markets every week, year-round, filled with a plethora of fruits, vegetables and other goodies, and great varieties of them. It's kind of like heaven here, so there's little wonder that good food is totally integrated into daily life. The argument that many people set forth is that their climate isn't perfect like California's. I know that in Chicago, we had farmers' markets from spring through fall, but of course nothing can be harvested fresh over the winter. Alice Waters suggests that plenty of the produce harvested during the growing season can be preserved, and that the change in what's available orients one in time and place, giving a greater sense of awareness in how we live and where our food comes from. Being a recent inhabitant of a non-temperate climate, I'm of the opinion that it's easier said than done. Who doesn't crave an orange in the depths of February to stave off that feeling of never-ending, bone-chilling, soul-crushing cold? Who wants to figure out nine months' worth of recipes for the dozens of jars of tomatoes and zucchini that the Midwest bestowed upon us long ago? But Alice's manifesto is serious stuff, and our health, well-being, and very planet could certainly use something serious. Here's what she says in the introduction to The Art of Simple Food:


Eat locally and sustainably. Learn where your food comes from and how it is produced. Seek out a diverse variety of vegetables and fruits from small, local producers who take care of the land. Buy eggs, meat and fish from producers whose practices are organic, humane, and environmentally sound.

Eat seasonally. Choose food in season. Even where the growing season is short, organic gardening and farming can extend it: greens can be grown in cold frames and greenhouses, and there are always local foods that can be stored, dried, and canned for the winter months. Eating seasonally inspires your menus, gives you a sense of time and place, and rewards you with the most flavorful food.

Shop at farmers' markets. Farmers' markets create communities that value diversity, honesty, seasonality, locality, sustainability, and beauty. Get to know the people who grow your food. Think of yourself as a partner with the farmers, learning from them and working with them.

Plant a garden. It is deeply satisfying to eat food you have grown yourself, in your own backyard or in a community garden. Even a pot of herbs on your windowsill can transform your cooking and connect you to the changing seasons, as can foraging for wild foods and harvesting fruit from farms that allow you to pick your own. Learn what the edible landscape has to offer.

Conserve, compost, and recycle. Take your own basket to the market. Reuse whatever packaging you can. Keep a compost bucket nearby when you cook to recycle kitchen scraps. The more you conserve, the less you waste, the better you feel.

Cook simply, engaging all your senses. Plan uncomplicated meals. Let things taste of what they are. Enjoy cooking as a sensory pleasure: touch, listen, watch, smell, and, above all, taste. Taste as you go. Keep tasting and keep practicing and discovering.

Cook together. Include your family and friends, and especially children. When children grow, cook, and serve food, they want to eat it. The hands-on experience of gardening and cooking teaches children the value and pleasure of good food almost effortlessly.

Eat together. No matter how modest the meal, create a special place to sit down together, and set the table with care and respect. Savor the ritual of the table. Mealtime is a time for empathy and generosity, a time to nourish and communicate.

Remember food is precious. Good food can only come from good ingredients. Its proper price includes the cost of preserving the environment and paying fairly for the labor of the people who produce it. Food should never be taken for granted.


Well! That's quite the antithesis of the average household habits in this country, but these practices are being adopted by a growing number of people here and around the world. Some are organized, subscribing to the Slow Food movement, and others are simply interested in improving their quality of life and/or doing something tangible about our environmental crisis. Some people do all of the things listed above, and some do what they can fit into their habits and budgets. Keep in mind that as food awareness spreads, the ways to participate are becoming more widely available and more affordable. In Chicago, we got weekly organic, local produce through a Community Shared Agriculture (CSA) organization, and there are a lot to choose from there! The Chicago Reader probably has an online archive of its recommended CSA's, and it devotes a cover story each late winter to give people a head-start in choosing a CSA for the growing season. There are many farmers' markets throughout the city, and even my parents started visiting their local market (I'm so proud of them!) Some CSA's even encourage their members to visit the farms and offer events like apple-picking or cooking with the produce.. and most areas have some kind of local produce that can be picked. Around Chicago, we had apples, blueberries, pumpkins, and christmas trees (and probably a lot more that I didn't know much about).

A funny story I just read in another blog was Alice Waters' appearance on ABC's The View. Alice is a quiet, small lady, and Whoopi Goldberg and Joy Behar were interviewing her.. long story short, there was a roasted chicken on the table and Joy asked, "Can't you shove a beer can in the chicken's vagina and cook it that way?" The producers were either completely clueless, or they planned that sharp dichotomy like expert critics.

The moral of the post is this: Think more about your food! Start looking at what's available, then look again and decide what is healthiest for you and our environment. Think of food as an adventure, not an obligation. Have fun picking out recipes.. try something new because you've never eaten it before, or bring home that beautiful piece of produce and figure out something to do with it (if you don't just eat it outright!).

In doing research on the Mahon Mitica cheese earlier, I came across gastrokid, a blog that talks about raising your kids to be interested in food. A couple of entries were based on letting the kids pick out something from the grocery, then trying it and giving it a little 'review'. This engages them in what they're seeing at the store, makes them aware of what they like and eventually adventurous enough to try new things because it's like a game, and develops their food sense by describing what they eat. And if your kid isn't quite into, you can trick them again: Hey, you're a shark! Pick out some fish! I'm a T-Rex, what do I eat? (I'm secretly planning to do my shopping in this manner from now on.) Oh, and here's a video clip I just found of a guy from gastrokid talking about getting kids to eat different foods on CNN.

Phew! I didn't think that would be so long. But now my pumpkin is cooled enough for me to handle, and it's getting on toward dinner time (leftovers again.. how do two people manage to have so many leftovers?) Wish me luck with the pie, I haven't taken on a recipe with so much from-scratch-ness in a long time! Good luck with your meals, too!