Food Language: Literally Local??

I am making my way through the New York Times Magazine Food Issue from last week and was particularly entertained by William Safire’s piece on the vocabulary of food trends. You may know that “locavor” was the Oxford American Dictionary’s word of the year. Mr. Safire explains how the term was born, and tells of the offshoots now being used. However, what I find particularly interesting about his piece is the opening vignette he tells of his quest to find out if his store bought orange juice really was “home squeezed” as it said on the box. He called the company and asked the product manager, “In whose ‘home’ had my orange juice been squeezed?” to which the rep answered, “When you squeeze oranges at home, you get more pulp. We use ‘home squeezed’ to differentiate between our pulpy product and our nonpulp juice.” Thus, “home squeezed,” to the Florida Orange Juice company actually means, “tastes as if it was squeezed at home,” but they fail to explain THAT anywhere on the box. So basically, using the term “home squeezed” is a marketing ploy to touch one’s sentiment and one’s desire to eat food close to home.

Ha! I thought this was really funny. The “locavore” trend is everywhere, even in big industry now. The other day I walked into the Treasure Island grocery store in Hyde Park where they were selling, “Local Green Bell Peppers”. There was no mention as to where these “local” bell peppers came from, nor was there anywhere in the store that explained the store’s definition of “local”. All that I can think is that the managers at Treasure Island define “local” as “on planet Earth” because each pepper had a little sticker on it that read, “M&R Company U.S.A.” Something tells me that the little farm in Indiana does not put plastic stickers on their peppers, and they are not called “M&R Company”.

Anyway, Safire’s point is that there is such a bizarre and extensive lexicography around food trends. It’s a great piece to boot; I recommend you read it. Anyway, more on the NYT Food Issue later. My response to Michael Pollan’s article will be up in coming days. For now, check out this brilliant cartoon by Bruce Eric Kaplan; the same one Safire references in his article.



"Local" grapefruits growing in my parents backyard. Key ingredient to the infamous, KLB "Local" Grapefruit Margarita.

Serious Announcement (wink wink)...

Veteran Pillsbury spokesman Pop N. Fresh died Wednesday of a severe yeast infection. He was 71.

He was buried Friday in one of the biggest funerals in years. Dozens of celebrities turned out including Mrs. Butterworth, the California Raisins, Hungry Jack, Betty Crocker, and the Hostess Twinkies.

The graveside was piled high with flours, as longtime friend Aunt Jemima delivered the eulogy, describing Fresh as a man who "never knew he was kneaded".

Fresh rose quickly in show business, but his later life was filled with turnovers. He was not considered a smart cookie, and wasted much of his dough on half-baked schemes.

Still, even as a crusty old man, he was a roll model to millions. Fresh is survived by his second wife. They had two children, and one in the oven.

The funeral was at 3:50 for 20 minutes.


***Ben found this and passed it along to me this morning. I thought that it was too fantastic, and just had to re-post it here on my blog. I don't know who wrote it, but whomever you are, you are to be commended. You would make Mark Morton (who I consider to be a food pun master) very proud.

Bacon Cupcakes and Crusty Bread

Short update:

1) I have had BACON on the brain as of lately. As part of some highly necessary research for my new job, I forayed into MORE, Chicago's newest cupcake bakery. I originally went into the bakery to say hello to the chef I interviewed for my story, but I walked out of MORE with a free Maple Bacon cupcake in tow. Half an hour later I was home; I poured myself a glass of buttery chardonnay, put Van Morrison on the record player, and enjoyed a lovely dinner of my Bacon Maple cupcake (What?! There is protein in bacon, and the flour is a grain, and there must be nutritional value in maple--it is from a tree after all). Complete with my glass of wine, I think that it was a perfectly balanced meal. Well, if not perfectly balanced, at least it was delicious.



The cupcake is a brown sugar cake with bacon bits mixed into the batter. It's topped with maple butter-cream frosting and garnished with a piece of candied bacon. The maple and bacon flavors mix marvelously--think pancakes with maple syrup and bacon for breakfast. It sounds weird, I know, but trust me...it works.



MORE is gorgeous. You walk in and it looks like a jewelry store. It is stark white with a big glass counter showcasing rows and rows of cupcakes lit perfectly by halogen lights. Unlike most other cupcakeries (I might have just made that word up), MORE is taking the plunge into savory cupcake flavors. At the moment they are playing with flavors like a BLT cupcake, a brie and red wine cupcake, a baked potato cupcake, a BBQ pineapple bacon cupcake, and an apple bacon cinnamon cupcake. They also, of course, have the classics--red velvet, chocolate, vanilla, and other more exotic sweet flavors like salted caramel and the bacon maple. I felt obligated to write about my bacon maple cupcake experience and post some pictures because it was just so good.

2) I baked bread! Ok, so this was a big hurdle for me. About 4 years ago I baked my first loaf of bread from scratch. It turned out perfect and beautiful--a whole wheat seed loaf with orange zest. Since that first loaf, every other attempt of mine at bread baking has been disastrous. My hot cross buns were like little cinnamon-raisin rocks, my whole wheat rustic loaf looked looked like a deflated football, and my a rye bread...well, let's just say that it was closer to ry-vita crackers than rye bread. I don't know what I was doing, but none of my breads would rise properly, no matter how close I followed the recipe.

So this past weekend I attempted Mark Bittman's recipe for No Kneed Bread, and it worked like gem. It worked so well that my second loaf is rising this very moment. My loaf turned out with a dense, earth-shattering crackly crust and a light, chewy, delicious interior. Seriously, it looked like I bought this loaf at an artisan bakery. I was so proud of myself. The recipe is genius...mix the flour, salt, and yeast; next add the water and mix into a shaggy sticky ball of dough; cover your bowl with plastic wrap and let sit for 18 hours. The next day, the dough is shaped and let sit for a second rise (only 2 hours this time), and then baked in a cast iron pot in a 450 degree oven. The cast iron pot (with the lid on) is key to the amazing crust.



I am making my second loaf (the one rising as we speak) with a higher protein bread flour as opposed to all-purpose flour, so we'll see how it turns out.

Anyway, sorry for the rather mundane and non-cerebral post. I will post tomorrow with my thoughts and response to Michael Pollan's new article in this weeks New York Times Magazine. If you have not read it yet, I highly recommend that you do. Pollan's work is incredible and probably some of the most inspirational writing for me, as an aspiring food journalist. Mark Bittman's piece , on why we should take food seriously, is great as well. Oh, and the pie blog will be updated again soon as well. I am running into some hurdles with having very limited kitchen equipment for the time being, but pies will be coming out of the oven in short order.

An Update and Announcement: No more pie at this location...

OK, this is to say that I will not post about pies any more on this blog, because....

I have started a whole new blog, all about pie!!! So check it out...

www.pieperweek.com

My new blog, Pie Per Week, will only be about all things pie and pie related. So all my food pondering and rants, as well as general life pondering and rants...basically, "discussion of the everyday," will continue to be on here.

Hope you like the pie blog. Lemme know what you think, feedback is much appreciated.

An Open Letter To Oatmeal

Dear Oatmeal,

Many people think that you are boring and tasteless, goopy and soggy, or lumpy and gross, but I beg to differ. I remember the first time I ate you as an adult. I am sure that my mother made you for me as a kid, but I don't really remember eating you that often in my childhood. I was more of a cream of wheat kid, but oh how you converted me.

My first encounter with you was when I was in Cape Town, South Africa. I was at my aunts house on a dreary August morning (yes, August is the middle of winter in South Africa). In South Africa, people decided that it is not a good idea to heat their houses, even though it is forty-degrees outside in the winter. Because it was damp and rainy and forty-degrees outside, it was freezing inside when I woke up. I had been feeling sick and nauseous all week, but my aunt insisted that I eat breakfast.

Oh Oatmeal, in South Africa you do not come the iconic navy blue cylinder container printed with the picture of the guy wearing a funny hat. No, South Africans don't really know what Quakers are, and they really do not associate Quakers with oats and granola bars. Rather you are in that distinctly rectangular green and red box with a picture of a tiger on the front--"Jungle Oats" is printed at the top in bold yellow print. Ah, Jungle Oats, how you warmed my tummy and my soul on that dreary August morning.



Oatmeal, compared to all those other over-sugary or cardboard-tasting cold cereals, you are a God-send. You keep me full and satisfied until lunch time. Depending on my mood, I can dress you up in so many ways, and I have gone through many phases in how I like to eat you. First, I liked to stir in vanilla extract when I pulled you off the stove, before pouring you into my bowl. I was careful not to add the vanilla in while you were cooking, because that would just be a waste of good vanilla--it would all boil away while you bubbled happily over the flame. But just a dash of vanilla right before you are served lifts my spirits on a winter morning. Next, I tried vanilla and cinnamon. Ah, sweet spices with your lovely oaty flavor--delicious.

Some mornings I add sliced banana to my bowl before I pour you on top. Then it is like eating yogurt with fruit on the bottom--creamy deliciousness with sweet treasures at the bottom of my bowl. If I am in a decadent mood, I will add some chocolate chips to you as well. Oh how amazing you taste with smooth, melting dark chocolate morsels.

In the fall, apples became bountiful. I remember the first time I chopped up a Golden Delicious apple and dropped it into the pot while you were cooking. Then I added a touch of cinnamon and a pinch of nutmeg, and as I pulled you off the stove, a dash of vanilla went into the pot. That morning, I could have closed my eyes and thought I was eating apple pie for breakfast.

During the spring, fresh strawberries start to appear at the farmers' market. Sliced thinly I place them at the bottom of my bowl and pour you on top. I remember I was feeling particularly decadent one morning, so a big dollop of freshly whipped cream went of top of you...and then I drizzled you all over with a little maple syrup. The cream started to slightly melt into you, and the strawberries and maple syrup added the perfect sweetness on a early spring morning.

In summer, fresh raspberries are bountiful. Their brilliant red color blends into you as the fragile berries break under the weight of my spoon. Along with a glass of iced coffee or tea, their vibrant tartness is the perfect kick added to you to start my summer day. I know that you are warm and gooey, thus people often only associate you with cold months, but even on a summer's morning, I crave your silkiness on my tongue. You just need to be dressed for the appropriate month, thus tart berries in the summer is your perfect accompaniment.

But some mornings I just crave your pure oat flavor. So on these mornings, I leave you to bubble happily while I make my tea. I pour you into my bowl and simply add a dash of milk, and perhaps a drizzle of farmers' market honey, but more often than not, I will just have you plain. Oh oatmeal, you make breakfast my favorite meal of the day. You may not be exciting or exotic. You may be the the butt of every breakfast joke, but you are consistent, and cheap, and healthy, and oh so very very delicious! Thank you oatmeal, for making my mornings complete. And during this time of economic crises, when those over processed, over sugary cereals are $4.75 a box, thank you for being 79¢ a pound. You continue to amaze me.

Sincerely your biggest fan,
--melissa