Still impressed by digital watches?

Chicago.

This is so depressing. (If you prefer, go ahead and get depressed by the accompanying graphic.)

I see two¹ potential explanations for Americans' failure to grasp evolutionary theory:

1. Americans are scientifically illiterate. A few reasons to suppose this:

• Religious fundamentalism, in various splintery forms, has come back with alarming strength, attempting to replace science and rationality with various twists on "because I said so."²
  
  
• There's a strange aversion to understanding the sciences in this country, even among the well-educated. One can be well-versed in the arts and, somehow, wear scientific illiteracy as a badge of honor. Overall, there's a distinct current of anti-intellectualism these days, and the sciences seem to have it the worst.³
  
  
• Science - in light of the previous two points - has become a political issue. Not that this is the first time, of course. (See Galileo Galilei for a well-known example.)

2. Americans haven't actually evolved from the various apes, monkeys, and other animals down the evolutionary tree. Reasons to suppose this:

• Religious fundamentalism and an irrational fear of science seem like the sort of abstract concepts a chimpanzee could handle. Perhaps also some of the more cunning monkeys.
  
  
• With the recent advances in electrolysis, shaving technology⁴, cosmetic surgery and related fields, your average gorilla or orangutan stands a fair chance of passing for human.⁵
  
  
• Have you looked around the internet? Monkeys on typewriters. In case you're short on handy examples, you might want to try the Weird Earl's archive on the Straight Dope website.
  
  
• I wouldn't be at all surprised to find out that the loudmouth, right-wing blowhards on radio and TV are actually well-groomed⁶ baboons. Loud, angry, prone to resorting to threats and violence to resolving conflicts? Sounds like baboons to me.

* * * * *

¹Okay, three. The paper's authors could be making this up, just for kicks. If only that had the tiniest potential of really being true.

²This sort of logic is okay when arguing with four-year-olds. There's a reason - actually, lots of them - why evolution is the current scientific theory. For starters, there's the fact that it stands up to the scientific method approach of testing hypotheses and such.

³I'm counting mathematics in among the sciences. If I couldn't handle basic arithmetic - say, doubling a recipe or calculating a tip - I wouldn't consider it a funny, slightly self-deprecating thing to mention at parties. I'd put it up there with being unable to read. It's rare to find someone who's proud of being illiterate these days. Especially someone who doesn't appear to have a host of mental problems, as well.

⁴I use a shaving brush and soap, and I'd consider using a straight razor if I knew where to get one.

⁵Lrrr: "I recognize her slumping posture and hairy knuckles."

⁶Heck, the ones on the radio don't even need to wash up.

REAP Recipes.

Madison.

Last night, I submitted my five recipes for the REAP Food For Thought Recipe Contest. I'd hoped to have more, but, between a busy summer and a minimum of Wisconsin-based great ideas, that's all I could manage. Now, in the spirit of filling this blog with semi-regular posts of marginally interesting stuff, here they are:

Banh mi ga (Vietnamese chicken sandwich)
Serves 6 to 8

Ingredients
Brined chicken:
1 whole chicken
2 cloves garlic, smashed
1 tsp. black peppercorns
4 c. water
1/2 c. salt
1/4 c. honey
high temperature oil, for searing

Chicken liver pate:
1 chicken liver
2 Tbsp. scallions, diced
1 serrano chilli, diced
3 Tbsp. butter
1 Tbsp. fresh herbs (parsley, cilantro, or basil), finely chopped
salt, to taste
ground black pepper, to taste

Pickled vegetables:
1/2 c. carrots, shredded
1/2 c. daikon radish, shredded
1/2 c. red bell pepper, diced
1/2 c. cucumber, seeded and thinly sliced
1 serrano pepper, thinly sliced
1/2 c. cider vinegar
1/2 c. water
1 Tbsp. salt
1 Tbsp. honey
1 clove garlic, smashed
six whole black peppercorns

Other sandwich ingredients:
2 baguette loaves
fresh herbs (parsley, cilantro, or basil), chopped, to taste

Directions
Pickles:
1. Make the pickles at least one day ahead. Place the garlic and peppercorns for the pickles in the bottom of a very clean glass pint jar. Mix together the vegetables (carrots, radish, pepper, cucumber) for pickling and pack into the jar, to within 1/2 inch of the top.

2. In a small saucepan, heat the vinegar, water, salt and honey just to the boil. Pour over the vegetables, just until everything is submerged. Place the lid on tightly and store in the refrigerator. The pickles should be ready in less than 24 hours.

Pate:
1. Prepare the pate at least two hours in advance; preferably a day ahead. In a small pan, melt 1/2 Tbsp. of butter over medium heat. Add the diced scallions and chillis and cook, stirring often, until softened. Place in a food processor.

2. Return the pan to the heat and add another 1/2 Tbsp. of butter. Cook the liver, 1-1/2 to 2 minutes per side, until firm but still pink inside. Add to the food processor with the chopped herbs and puree until smooth. While still running, add the remaining 2 Tbsp. of butter and again process until smooth.

3. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Store in the refrigerator, with plastic wrap pressed up against the surface of the pate. Allow at least two hours to firm up before using.

Brined chicken and sandwich assembly:
1. To prepare the brine, mix the water, salt, honey, garlic and peppercorns together in a saucepan. Bring to a boil, stirring to dissolve the salt and honey. When it reaches the boil, remove from the heat and allow to cool. (This is best done ahead of time and stored in the refrigerator.)

2. Remove the whole breasts and leg quarters from the chicken, being sure to keep the skin on. (Save the bones and remaining neck and giblets for stock.) Place the chicken pieces into the cool brine in a container just big enough to keep the pieces submerged. A heavy-duty resealable bag with the excess air squeezed out works very well. Allow the chicken to soak in the brine, in the refrigerator, for two hours.

3. Preheat the oven to 400°F. Remove the chicken pieces from the brine and pat dry with paper towels. Set a large pan, capable of holding all four chicken pieces, over high heat, and add a Tbsp. or so of oil. Sear the chicken on the skin side, then flip over, and place the whole pan, uncovered, in the oven. Roast for approximately 20 minutes, until the chicken is thoroughly cooked.

4. When the chicken is done cooking, place the baguettes in the oven for five to ten minutes to warm up and refresh the crust. Meanwhile, remove the skin from the chicken pieces and slice into thin strips. Slice the breasts across the grain, 1/8 to 1/4 thick. Shred the leg and thigh meat from the bones with your fingers or a pair of forks.

5. Slice the baguette into six-inch lengths, then along the length (but not all the way through), like an oversized hot dog bun.

6. Spread a thin layer of pate on the inside. Then add a layer of slices of breast meat, a thin layer of dark meat, about 2 Tbsp. of pickled vegetables, a few strips of crispy chicken skin, and then a hefty sprinkling of fresh herbs to taste. Serve immediately, while still warm.

Notes
When picking fresh herbs, go for the thai basil, if it's available. I love its anise-like flavor. A regular French baguette works best for the sandwiches, but sourdough is good, too. Sourdough, though tastier, can be tougher to eat, due to the intense crust.


Strawberry, cheese & black pepper crepe cake
Serves 12

Ingredients
Crepes:
1 c. whole wheat flour
1 c. milk
3/8 c. (6 Tbsp.) apple cider (or water)
4 large eggs
4 Tbsp. unsalted butter, melted, plus additional for cooking
3 Tbsp. maple syrup
1 tsp. salt

Filling:
2/3 c. strawberry jam
6 oz. fresh, soft sheep's or goat's milk cheese
2 tsp. freshly ground black pepper

Directions
1. In a food processor, mix together all of the crepe ingredients. Process until smooth. Pour the batter into a container with a pouring lip, cover in plastic wrap, and rest in the refrigerator for at least 30 minutes, or up to 2 days.

2. While the batter is resting, mix together the filling ingredients until well combined. Set aside.

3. TO cook the crepes, set a pan, preferably non-stick, over medium heat. Coat lightly with butter and pour in about 3 Tbsp. of batter, rotating the pan to coat evenly. Once the top appears set, flip over and cook the second side until it browns lightly. Slide the finished crepe to a plate.

4. Before each additional crepe, re-butter the pan and stir the batter.

5. After laying down each crepe, spread approximately 1-1/2 Tbsp. of filling on top, then lay the next crepe on top. There should be about a sixteen layers, give or take.

6. Serve immediately, slicing the cake into wedges. Otherwise, you can refrigerate the cake and reheat in a 250°F oven until warm, about 15 minutes. You can serve as is, or with a little whipped cream or vanilla ice cream, if you like.


Lavender lamb
Serves 8 to 10

Ingredients
Roast lamb:
3-4 lb. boneless lamb shoulder or leg
3 cloves garlic, sliced into thin slivers
1/2 c. brown mustard
1 Tbsp. fresh lavender leaves, finely chopped
2 Tbsp. honey
2 lb. fingerling potatoes
kosher salt
olive or other cooking oil

Compound butter:
8 Tbsp. butter, softened (1 stick)
1 Tbsp. dried lavender flowers
1 tsp. fresh thyme
1 habanero pepper, seeded and minced

Directions
1. The compound butter can be prepared well ahead of the roast. Using a fork, mash the lavender, thyme and habanero pepper into the butter, so that everything appears evenly mixed. Roll into a cylinder using wax paper, and refrigerate or freeze until ready to use.

2. Preheat the oven to 300°F. Using a small, sharp knife, pierce the lamb shoulder all over, inserting slivers of garlic into the roast. Sprinkle the roast all over with salt. In a hot pan, sear the roast on all sides and set aside to mix together the mustard rub.

3. Mix together the mustard, lavender leaves and honey, and brush evenly over the surface of the roast. Tie the roast into a cylinder, set on a roasting rack in a pan, and slide into the oven.

4. Toss the potatoes with a tablespoon or two of olive oil and a thorough sprinkling of salt. After the roast has been in the oven for about an hour, arrange the potatoes around the roast in its pan, and return the roasting pan into the oven.

5. Roast until a thermometer inserted in the thickest part of the roast reads 130°F, roughly 2-1/2 hours or so, depending on size. Allow the roast to rest for fifteen to twenty minutes beneath a tent of foil before slicing.

6. To serve, slice the lamb thinly and arrange on plates. Top the lamb and potatoes with a half tablespoon or so of the compound butter, and deliver to the table before it all melts away.

Notes
Use ripe habanero peppers here. Bright orange or red, without any green. Not only will they have developed their floral aroma, but the heat level will have abated slightly. The goal here is to get some great flavor, not tear-inducing heat.


Sage & onion sausage gravy with chive biscuits
Serves 6

Ingredients
Sausage gravy:
1 lb. pork shoulder, cut into 1-inch cubes (or ground pork)
1/2 c. fresh onions, roughly chopped
2 Tbsp. fresh sage
8 g. (approx. 2 tsp.) kosher salt
1 Tbsp. freshly ground black pepper
3 Tbsp. cold apple cider (or water)
approx. 2 Tbsp. butter
4 Tbsp. flour
2-1/2 c. milk

Biscuits:
2 c. flour
2-1/2 tsp. baking powder
3/4 tsp. kosher salt
6 Tbsp. butter, cold, cut into pieces
3/4 c. cold milk, plus additional for brushing tops
1/4 c. chopped chives
1 Tbsp. chive seeds

Directions
For the sausage gravy:
Note: If you don't have a meat grinder, you can still make this with ground pork. Just chop the sage and onions finely before mixing with the pork. Skip the grinding step.

1. In a bowl, mix together the pork shoulder, onions, sage, salt and half the pepper. Toss to evenly distribute the ingredients. Cover tightly with plastic wrap and allow to rest in the refrigerator for at least two hours, or overnight.

2. Put the mix through a meat grinder, using the small die. With a mixer paddle attachment, or by hand, mix the ground meat until it comes together, about a minute. Add in the cold apple cider and continue mixing until all of the liquid has been absorbed and the mixture appears slightly sticky. Now is a good time to refrigerate the loose sausage and start making biscuits.

3. In a pan over medium heat, cook the loose sausage in a small amount of butter. (The sausage should release some of its own fat as it cooks. If using lean ground pork, you may want to use some extra butter or lard to compensate.) Break it up as it cooks, browning the meat on all sides. Once the sausage is cooked, remove it from the pan, but leave the cooking fat.

4. Melt the butter in the cooking fat. Once the butter's moisture has evaporated, stir in the flour to make a roux. Stir until the roux takes on a light brown tone.

5. Whisk the milk into the roux, being careful to break up any lumps. Add the remaining black pepper and bring to a boil. Boil the gravy for two minutes, then return the cooked sausage and any accumulated juices to the pan.

6. To serve, peel a biscuit in half, add a good dollop of sausage gravy over the bottom half, and set the biscuit's other half on top.

For the biscuits:
1. Preheat the oven to 425°F.

2. Blend the flour, salt, baking powder and chives thoroughly. Cut in the cold butter until the mixture resembles small peas.

3. Stir in the cold milk, just until the mixture comes together. Be careful not to overwork the batter. Roll out on a lightly floured board, to a roughly rectangular shape about 1/2" to 3/4" thick. Cut out biscuits approximately 3 inches by 3 inches and set on an ungreased baking sheet, allowing space between each biscuit.

4. Brush the top of each biscuit with milk and sprinkle with chive seeds. Bake in the oven for twelve minutes, or until golden brown. Allow to sit briefly on a cooling rack until cool enough to handle.

Notes
Chive seeds taste like oniony poppy seeds. They shake out of the dried flower heads pretty easily, ideally over a spread of paper towels. Even a small clump of chives can produce a wealth of seeds.


Picau ar y maen (Welsh cakes)
Makes about fifteen

Ingredients
115 g white flour
115 g whole wheat flour
115 g cold butter
1/2 tsp. salt
85 g sugar
1 tsp. baking powder
70 g fresh currants
1 large egg, lightly beaten
about 2 Tbsp. milk
butter, for cooking

Directions
1. Sift together the flours, baking powder and salt into a large bowl. Cut in the butter until the mixture resembles coarse breadcrumbs. Stir in the sugar.

2. Carefully fold in the currants, being as gentle as possible to avoid breaking them. A few are guaranteed to break open, but the more that stay intact, the easier it'll be to roll out later.

3. Add just enough milk to the dough to bring the dough together, mixing as little as possible.

4. Turn out onto a lightly floured surface and roll until about 1/4 inch thick, or about the thickness of a currant. Using a 2-1/2 inch biscuit cutter, cut out into rounds. Gather the scraps and roll out again, and cut additional rounds.

5. Cook on a lightly buttered griddle over medium heat, for about five minutes per side, or until golden brown. Set on a wire rack to cool.

6. While still warm, they're best served spread with a little butter and dusted with sugar. Those that aren't eaten right away can be stored in an airtight container, at room temperature, for several days.

Jesse & Regina - married at last.

Madison.

Aaand... the last wedding of the summer is finally over. Jesse and Regina had their wedding last night, and it was a pleasure and a relief for everyone involved. A pleasure for the obvious reasons. A relief because all the planning and work is over, and everything seems to have gone right. Now they get to gear up for moving day, the annual Madison tradition.

I admit that I'm not too sorry that I'll be out of town.

There were a fair number of lessons to learn last night, as well as some interesting (and funny) moments. Such as:

• When planning an outdoor wedding, it's good to be sure that your indoor facilities can accommodate comfortably in case of inclement weather. Fortunately, this worked out. Given the morning's gradual shift from thunderstorms and downpours to eventual sunshine, the set-up crew just put everything inside. Good weather rolled in for the festivities - and the photographs beforehand - but the ceremony and reception stayed indoors.
  
  
• When planning to use Olin-Turville Park for your next outing, be sure to see what's going on over at the Alliant Energy Center. If it's an outdoor concert featuring a series of loud, whiny, not-particularly-talented pseudo-metal¹ bands, you may wish to find an alternate date. If that's not an option, your best bet is to shut the windows along the pavilion's west side and hope for a sudden, inexplicable generator failure to force the bands to play intimate, acoustic sets.
  
  
• The farmers' market is the place to get flowers. Though enormous - and necessitating the occasional shift to see the person across the table - the bouquets were eruptions of brilliant color, and a lively counterpoint to the all-white interior of the pavilion. I can't recall who provided them, except that he was Hmong and no one was sure how to spell his name.
  
  
• You can't get New Glarus beer in Minneapolis. John Neely laments this sad state of affairs. He's asked around, and it seems the only way to enjoy some Fat Squirrel in the twin cities is to haul it from Madison yourself.
  
  
• Good roast beef doesn't take much, and it will get you no end of praise. People kept complimenting Sharon and I on the food, to which I had to respond along the following lines:
  
  
  • Telling us that we'd prepared a wonderful buffet: "Thanks, but we only made a portion of it. It was a team effort." This then prompted either a comment along that suggested we were too modest or one on something specific. Usually the roast beef.
    
    
  • Commenting that I ought to consider a catering business: "Maybe one of these days. Thanks." Sounds tempting as a vaguely defined enterprise, but I don't think I have the chops for it.
    
    
  • Gushing about the roast beef: "You can thank John and Dorothy. They raised the animal. I just heated it."
  
  On that point, Neely mused on something that he'd heard somewhere recently. "You don't cook a good steak; you source a good steak."
  
  I had to agree. Neely's point was that the quality of a steak depends almost exclusively on the animal it came from, especially since we tend to do little more to a good steak than add some salt and pepper before tossing it on the grill. Unless you do something to ruin it, you're looking at a piece of meat that's only as good as the animal it came from. And, since few of us have the opportunity to know the animals we're eating, it's best to learn who you can rely on to provide you with consistently good food. The top choice would be a good farmer or rancher; failing that, look for a good butcher shop.
  
  Incidentally, the beef was amazingly good. I was a little wary of cooking it a day ahead and serving it cold, but the flavor, texture, and appearance were still top-notch. The slow-roasting process - somewhere between four and five hours - produced slices that were well-done on just the thinnest outer layer², but a lovely medium-rare red throughout. Slicing the next day, they were still good and juicy. (Time to make a note to include that in my future entertaining repertoire.)
  
  
• Speaking of food, the glories of the cold buffet on a hot summer day are not to be overlooked. Not only can everything be prepared ahead of time and kept on ice, but I wouldn't have wanted to eat anything hot. I even opted for beer over wine because there was more of it and it was colder. If we'd had any way to serve ice cream, we'd have been hailed as heroes.
  
  
• Jesse and Regina - with help from friends and family, but virtually no professionals - planned out the whole wedding. Just about everything reflected their individual tastes and personalities, and I feel that made it one of the most exciting and fun weddings I've ever been to. One of the biggest perks, I think was that everyone was willing to lend a hand at all times, knowing how much stress and trouble the whole process had been up until that point. We stuck around until the very end, cleaning and packing up, and there were plenty of helpers.
  
  
• Ord, Regina's mom, has a few photos of the last few of us, taking the last swigs from the open wine bottles before we poured them out. That moment summed up the whole day, as we toasted the happy couple³ to celebrate the success of the whole endeavor. It was the triumph of a kind of homespun happiness over the traditional, expected elegance.

* * * * *

¹Real metal isn't angsty. There's never any assurance that it's good - I'll wager that most is pretty much just schlock - but distortion pedals and big amps do not a metal band make. Just like having tattoos and using power chords doesn't make you punk. Pop-punk is just pop.

Punk is the Minutemen recording in after-hours sessions after practicing all day, on used tape, so their albums would actually make money. For example.

²From the initial searing, to get a little of that Maillard flavor.

³Long gone, of course.

This Is the Face of California Farming.

Chicago.

Yesterday's Los Angeles Times noted an interesting new ad campaign in Santa Monica. To celebrate the 25th anniversary of the Santa Monica Farmers Market, the city is plastering buses with the images of their local farmers, using the tagline "This Is the Face of California Farming." They may even be producing a booklet containing the best of the fifty photographs taken.

"Homer no function beer well without."

Chicago.

I need to brew a new batch of beer. Soon. I've already passed the point where I might have had some overlap between batches; there are, at most, ten bottles of the ITMFA IPA left. The difficulty, of course, has been finding enough contiguous weekends without other, more serious commitments. Using my preferred brewing schedule, I need three weekends in a row without much else to do. This is further complicated by my at home/in Chicago work schedule, and now working at the market every other Saturday, so that it's not so simple to find five or more hours of open time.

This weekend's a no-go. Even if I could work it in around helping prep for Jesse and Regina, and the market, I'd be a wreck. That's a moot point, though, since Sharon and I'll be back in Pennsylvania visiting family next weekend. That means that the closest, best time to start would be Saturday, 26 August. Rack to the secondary fermenter the next Saturday, and bottle everything a week after that. The basement's at a good temperature for most ales - 66°F or so - and ought to remain relatively constant for some time.

The question, then, is what to make? Assuming a brew date of the 26th, it won't be drinkable (by my estimate) until the second week of October. Sure, it'll be carbonated by mid- to late-September, but I've found that it takes about five weeks in the bottle to allow the green quality¹ to dissipate. With Halloween and Thanksgiving situated well within the prime consumption period, I'm tempted to make something special for the season. So far, I'm considering the following:

• Pumpkin ale. This isn't a recognized style, per se, though there are a lot of examples out there. Pumpkin's a necessity², of course, and it's well worth considering the "pumpkin pie spices": cinnamon, allspice, cloves, nutmeg and ginger. Nothing too intense, not so it feels like you're drinking liquid pie, but just enough to lend complexity.³ I think that this would call for an ale that's reddish-brown, but not opaque, with a higher alcohol content to extend the shelf life. This isn't an everyday beer, most likely. Maybe some brown sugar. A firm hop bitterness, without too much on the aroma. And a yeast that emphasizes the maltiness, but tends to a clean flavor profile.
  
  
• Chilli ale. I've been thinking on this one for a while, but I'm worried about having five gallons of undrinkable beer on my hands. There's the potential for a Halloween-themed beer, with devils or some such⁴, and the weather'd be getting into dark beer season. Though I'm sure I could eventually come up with a pale version of a chilli beer just right for summer barbecues, I'm quite confident that the higher alcohol, heavier body and more intense, malty flavors of a porter or stout would give a little more insurance against failure. Besides, I haven't done a real stout before.
  
  
• Irish red ale. Something with caramel and butterscotch-type flavors, more malt-intense than the pale ales I've done lately, but without getting into the rich, heavy, smoky qualities of the darkest beers. This would probably be the best option for a beer to match Thanksgiving dinner, and wouldn't make for a bad everyday beer, either. It also doesn't need to be as alcoholic as the previous two, since I wouldn't have to expect it to last as long. I would have to make sure to save enough for when my family comes to visit at Thanksgiving time, though...

Until that time, I can get back to buying miscellaneous six-packs from Star Liquor. The weather's just right to be enjoying some crisp, cold lagers and wheat beers.

* * * * *

¹Being a smell, it's nigh impossible to describe. 'Green beer' is unlike anything else in my experience, so I can't describe it in terms of something more familiar. I'd recommended that Jared pop open a bottle of his first batch after two weeks conditioning, and another each week after, so he could see what it was. At first, he thought something had gone funky, until I assured him it would disappear over the next month. Same thing happened to me the first time, except I didn't figure out what it was until sometime much later.

²Which means that it'll have to be canned pumpkin. On the one hand, I'd love to use something fresh and local, but the process is long and messy enough already. Besides, I grew up on pies made from Libby's pumpkin puree, and I'll admit that it's tough to find fresh squash to make a pie that richly pumpkin-y. In Downingtown, at least. Madison, and its wealth of farms, may have something better to offer.

³Talk about a maddeningly fine line. It's hard enough to estimate while cooking, but a complete crapshoot through the two-month beermaking process. It's also impossible to be sure what may happen to flavors through the fermentation process.

⁴Or Edward Gorey's Gashlycrumb Tinies. "N is for Neville, who died of ennui."

Some small thoughts.

Chicago.

A smattering of little thoughts are running about my head today, and in order to avoid going outside for as long as possible, I'll address each one in turn.¹

Really?
I love reading the weekly Really? column in the New York Times' Science section; it's like a straightforward² version of the Straight Dope. Each week, it refutes or reassures some claim of general common sense. This week, it's about keeping minor wounds moist, instead of dry. In particular, I was interested to note the bit about not applying antibiotic ointments. I presume that this means repeatedly. Though I make it a point to wash well whenever I cut myself, I've always considered an initial application of a topical antibiotic worthwhile. And it's good to know that my absent-minded habit of picking away old scabs isn't doing me any long-term damage.

Don't eat the Uni.
Frank Bruni, restaurant critic for the New York Times, generally raises some interesting points in his blog, but his new series of interviews with chefs looks especially enlightening. The first is with Rebecca Charles of Pearl Oyster Bar. She's down-to-earth, always a respectable trait, and I appreciate a number of her answers.

• What significant meals does she remember? Rustic, English country food³ and a simple roast chicken with frites in Belgium. Having had the wondrous delight that is the real Belgian frite, I can understand.
  
  
• What's most underrated in the kitchen? Salt and pepper. Sometimes - especially in the summer, with all of the great produce available - everything just tastes best without any additional embellishments.
  
  
• What food can't she stand? Sea urchin. I have to concur. I tried it once - uni, sea urchin roe sushi - and hated it. It tasted like salty milk.⁴

Six rules.
Yesterday, I successfully talked a coworker out of buying out-of-season strawberries, on the premise that they wouldn't taste very good. Of course, since she's may never have had good, fresh, ripe, local ones, she can only take my word for it. So, to back it up, I referred her to The Omnivore's Dilemma. I can probably make some points in addition to those that Pollan raises, but not much.

After that, I recalled that Pollan had written a short piece for Time magazine, entitled "Six Rules For Eating Wisely." It's a common sense - and amusing - approach to feeding yourself well. Or at least a little better. His rules:

• "Don't eat anything your great-great-great grandmother wouldn't recognize as food." Generally, this means avoiding pre-packaged, processed stuff. Though we Americans don't have an established food culture - we have a whirling array of fad diets and "magic bullet" approaches - thinking like long-ago ancestors might help nudge us in a saner direction.
  
  
• "Avoid foods containing high-fructose corn syrup (HFCS)." There was a recent article in either the New York or Los Angeles Times that addressed the controversy over HFCS in foods. The problem with it, I think, was that it targeted that single ingredient, rather than treating it as an indicator. As Pollan points out, HFCS only shows up in highly-processed foods, the sort that are more "food product" than "food." Eliminating HFCS also helps reduce the sorts of things that come loaded with other questionable ingredients: lots of sodium, fat, extra sugar, etc.
  
  
• "Spend more, eat less." I try to take this approach, especially with the sorts of foods that should be special. Good meats come to mind as an example. Beer and wine, too; I'm comfortable paying extra to savor and enjoy something, rather than simply bolt it down like a commodity. When I've paid more for something, I'm more willing to take the time and effort to enjoy it.
  
  
• "Pay no heed to nutritional science or the health claims on packages." In our advertising-saturated culture, the "magic bullet" gets a lot of play. The only reason nutritional claims show up on cereal boxes is to help sell more of them. They're about as fair and balanced as Fox News.
  
  
• "Shop at the farmers' market." Oh, for so many reasons. They could fill a book.
  
  
• "How you eat is as important as what you eat." If eating is simply a sustaining activity, it becomes mindless. When it's a social endeavor, a ritualized event with meaning, it becomes something special. Something worth thinking upon.

It's worth noting that these points, though distinct, really do have a lot of overlap. They're simple, but have the potential to be very effective.

Kathy's shirt.
This I should I have mentioned with the market stuff yesterday, but I forgot. Kathy finally got a shirt from John and Dorothy. See their newsletter for the story behind it. I can't recall exactly, now, but I think it's green, with yellow, lower-case lettering, and spells out "if i ate meat, this is the meat i'd eat". When your favorite beef and pork farmers have a vegetarian stumping for them, you know they're doing things right.

* * * * *

¹I'm dawdling inside for several reasons: the weather outside is extremely hot and humid; the air conditioning is actually working in our building this week, which is a pleasant surprise; my apartment here has no air conditioning or cross-ventilation; and there's a Cubs game tonight, so I couldn't get on the northbound Red Line if I wanted to.

²As in less snarky, and generally not particularly humorous, but always containing a nugget or two worth remembering.

³The English can actually cook. Granted, not everything is great - and some of it is outright bad - but in capable hands, you can get some very excellent comfort food. Most of it also pairs very well with beer, and the British have an strong tradition of diverse and well-made ales. (The continued presence of which is attributable, in no small part, to CAMRA, the CAMpaign for Real Ale. In both the UK and the States.)

⁴I should point out that I don't drink milk. Though I love most dairy products, the taste of plain milk turns my stomach.