Popcorn?

I like popcorn. I eat a lot of it, or so I’ve been told. But I don’t really like microwave popcorn. And yet I’ll eat it anyway.

I was at a faculty tech committee meeting yesterday. There’s always a bag of microwave popcorn there. So it is a popcorn-friendly crowd. Well, I had some popcorn in tupperware at home that wasn’t getting any fresher, so I brought it with me to the meeting.

You’d have thought I wondered in with the Shroud of Turin. Adults commented with shock and awe, “Wow, you popped this?” Uh, yeah, it’s popcorn. “I haven’t done that in years, I mean, since I had a little air popper in college, I think.” Another thought it was, “neat.”

One man even decided that my popcorn had salt while the microwave popcorn (it was “lite,” of course) didn’t.

I mentioned that I was sure that the microwave bag had more salt than mine, even if you couldn’t taste it. He wasn’t convinced.

I mentioned that even “lite” microwave popcorn comes literally caked in fat (and hydrogenated at that, though I kept that part to myself), and it’s better to get your popcorn fat through butter.

I didn’t feel it was appropriate to mention that I don’t have a microwave. Maybe after I get tenure.

Well, I pop popcorn a lot. Popping popcorn is neither exotic nor difficult. I used to come home from school and pop popcorn when I was nine-years-old (often ruining my appetite for dinner).

Perhaps the more disturbing part, judging from where the hands reached, was that about half of the people there actually preferred the microwave popcorn to my delicious (albeit day old) popcorn with butter.

bad


good


great!

The Gates

I took a very brief stroll through The Gates in Central Park on the way to school today. Not the best art in the world. The gates themselves are a bit clunky looking. They're not sleek. Too many rigid right angles. A curved top would be much much nicer. The fabric itself is cool. More complicated than I was expecting. Nice color and there's some texture to it. And even if the Art itself is only a B, the concept and effort still make it an A+. There are a lot of people in the park. More public art, please.

The Gates


kind of clunky

I want my “Regular” (or: another reason why change in bad)

Many minor things happen during the day to peeve people, but you don’t want to hear about them. This starts as one of those stories, but, and stick with me here, there’s actually a point.

At school, the drink machine on the 2nd floor features a large display of Dole Orange Juice 100% Juice in a 15.2 ounce bottle (couldn’t put in that extra 0.8 oz, could they?). Because all the selections cost the same ($1.25), I always felt like I was beating the system ever-so-slightly by selecting the one choice that was 100% juice and not a sugar-filled juice “drink.” So I press the 100% orange juice button this time and receive Dole Light Orange. 50% juice. That sucks. No more orange juice. And they don’t have the common courtesy to change the add or the button. But what can you do? This isn’t just another “I got suckered by a machine” or “let’s stick it to the man” story.

Here’s the interesting part: Dole promotes this “flavored juice beverage from concentrate” as healthier than regular orange juice. “50% less sugar than regular orange juice,” I'm told. In their “comparison chart,” I’m also informed that “Light Orange” gives me fewer calories and carbohydrates than “regular” orange juice. And in case you’re not carb counting your orange juice, there’s a little green circle with a jaunty white checkmark and a little white circle in the nook of the checkmark. To squinting fans of the abstract, this checkmark and circle could be interpreted as a vivacious person healthily and happily holding her hands in the air. The text on the circle says “Smart Choices Made Easy.” This symbol is the PepsiCo Smart Spot™ symbol designed “to make it easier for people to identify food and beverage choices that contribute to healthier lifestyles.” Phew, because I’m sick of having to work for my smart choices.

.

So Dole and PepsiCo market a watered-down orange juice as healthier than “real” orange juice because is has 50% less sugar? Oh boy. Half the carbs? You bet! Half the calories? Yes! Yes! Of course it has 50% less of everything, because it’s 50% less orange juice!

Sugars be damned. Watered-down orange juice with processed flavors, acid for tartness, two forms of artificial sweetener, and Beta-Carotene for color is not a healthy alternative to “regular” orange juice.

The taste, by the way, isn’t bad for orange drink. It’s high on the tartness and not overly sweet. But it sure isn’t regular orange juice... and that’s supposed to be good for me?

Greek mountain tea

I got curious about Greek Mountain Tea (Tsai vouNOU). Best I can find on-line, the Latin name is Sideritis syriaca. Ironwort is the English, I think. But Ironwort isn’t in any of my foraging books, which is strange because the people who write those books tend not to overlook anything ou can put in your system that won't kill you.

But the tea is delicious. I’ve yet to meet anybody who doesn’t like it. And it's very pretty, too. And the best part may be that the best Mountain Tea is foraged in the Taygetos mountain range… the same mountains the Spartans used to throw babies off.

Greek Tea

I did a little research on Tilio (TEE-lio) tea. That delicious “other” Greek tea (the most common Greek tea is Mountain Tea (Tsai vouNOU), and I'm still not really certain what Mountain Tea is). But I was drinking Tilio last night with a friend and we were trying to place the sweet flavor. Vanilla? Licorice root? Well it turns out that Tilio is from the dried flower of the Linden Tree (AKA basswood, AKA limetree (no citrus relation)).

Varieties of Linden trees are native to both North America and Europe. And it’s a common tree in New York City. More urban foraging to do! It also makes good honey, because bees love it ’cause it’s so sweet. It’s known as a general and mild sedative. Best of all a very strong linden infusion “is said to keep Eastern European country girls’ skin clear and glowing when used as a facial rinse.”

I wonder why these great teas haven’t caught on in the yuppie and foodie set?

Linden tree flower

Partially hydrogenated oil

You know it's bad for you, but if you're wondering what it is, here's a nice description from the New York Times. The whole article can be found here. What I don't understand is why McDonalds can't just go back to frying in beef tallow instead of trying to invent some other unnatural fat.

[Partially hydrogenated oil] is the perfect fat for modern food manufacturers. Produced by pumping liquid vegetable oil full of hydrogen with a metal catalyst at high heat, the fat stays solid at room temperature - an essential trait for mass-produced baked goods like crackers or cakes. But that is the very process that creates the dangerous trans fat.

The shortening-like oil is an industry workhorse. Its smoothness and high melting point make it a great medium for the creamy filling in an Oreo. In the deep-fat fryer, partially hydrogenated oil can take repeated heatings without breaking down.

It also helps products stay fresh longer on supermarket shelves. Small amounts keep peanut butter from separating. It is even found in products promoted as healthful, like Nutri-Grain yogurt bars and Quaker granola bars.

According to one survey on trans fat issued by the Food and Drug Administration in 1999, partially hydrogenated oil was in 95 percent of the cookies, 100 percent of crackers and 80 percent of frozen breakfast foods on supermarket shelves.

Killing and Butchering a Deer

FAIR WARNING: gruesome pictures below of deer killing and butchering.

Curtis’s hunting cabin. October 2003.

My former police sergeant owns a hunting cabin in Western Maryland. I go there occasionally to see old friends, drink lots of beer, and try to convince him not to burn too many toxic substances in the fire.

I’m not morally opposed to hunting. In fact, I’m morally for hunting. I believe that every carnivore should be able to kill their dinner. At the very least, meat eaters must except the fact that meat comes from a live, often cute, animal.

But my problem is I find hunting boring. Fishing too. I’m not against drinking in the woods or on a boat. I just don’t want to have to hold a gun or a fishing rod while doing so (for the record, hunters don’t usually drink while hunting). Hunting is worse because you have get up before dawn (deer sleep during the day), sit in some hunter's blind or tree stand (hunters almost never walk around Elmer Fudd style no matter what they're hunting), and be very very quiet while waiting for the prey to amble on by. I’d just as soon sleep in and have one of my friends get up early, enjoy the sounds of nature, and destroy their hearing while pulling the trigger.

Meanwhile, I can cook meals in the roll affectionately (I hope) called, "the kitchen bitch."

The deer in these pictures was killed at dusk. It’s a small deer and its death, truth be told, probably wasn't painless. Ideally, you shoot a deer in the “kill zone”—which is basically the head, neck, shoulder, heart area—and it drops dead. More likely the deer gets shot and runs away until it get tired and then dies. This last minute or five of shock probably isn’t good for the meat. But I’ve never had venison that wasn’t delicious. Whenever you hunt deer, you’re getting a nice free-range organic animal. What could be better than that?

The reason you can’t buy deer at the local supermarket (or butcher) is that the USDA only approves meat for sale when the animal is raised and slaughtered in a controlled and approved environment. So only warehoused or farm-raised animals can be sold retail. Wild free-range organic venison doesn’t cut it. A shame.

Most people, when they kill a deer, take the animal to a butcher who guts and cuts the animal. Then you get frozen, often shrink-wrapped cuts of venison. The charge for this is usually around $50 and maybe a small bit of meat. This deer, however, was cleaned and butchered at the hunting cabin, allowing me take pictures of the process.

Now that’s a fire!


John relaxing


shot deer


killing the deer


Stringing up the deer. The dog is Max. He’s a nice city dog who loves the country. He found the deer in the first place and was surpringly well-behaved around all this meat. The hunt seems to bring out the best in him. Their last dog, before Max, went bounding after some deer and was never seen again. There are also bears in these woods who could make quick work of any stupid dog.



cutting the belly open


innards coming out


cutting out the intestines, making sure the deer doesn’t get contaminated from its own feces


removing innards




gutted


cutting out the bladder


bullet wound


skinning the deer


I proposd we take up tanning as well, to make a nice little rug. But alas, there was no takers for this proposal.















You can see the bullet wound in the back of the deer


pile of remains

It’s official

I saw this and couldn't help but think of... me. It comes from a newspaper story about Mark Twain's description of himself. The image comes from a Ken Burn's documentary.

Nuclear, Schmuklear. Here’s the real news from the Hermit Kingdom

Say what you want about oppressive Communist régimes, they sure are good with their subway systems. If you're into oppressive régimes, Stalinist Realist murals, or just foam a bit at the thought of a subway system in the Hermit Kingdom, check out the Pyongyang Metro System (unofficial site). Zora wonders, "if Kim Jong Il has his own special train car that he drives around, singing, 'I'm so ronery...'"

Wow! Such scandal. Such fall-out! Who would have known that a lamb roast could have ethical dilemmas!?

Roving Gastronome was a little slow on posting this, so I, being a man of action, took matters into my own hand. Besides, this seems relevant here as I may have actually inspired this soul searching. I complimented a friend, let's just call her Dr. S, about "her" carrots. "Thanks," said the Doctor. But they were good carrots. Besides, somebody actually did make these carrots. It wasn't like they were pressed out of a machine. I like to think some Mexican man wearing a hairnet, making just over minimum wage, and enjoying limited but adequate health-care benefits lovingly sprinkled sesame seeds on these slow-cooked sweet goodness.

And for the record, I'd prefer someone to buy and bring something good than make and bring something bad. It's your money, babe. And my stomach.


> To:
> Department of Culino-Ethics
> Roving Gastronome Plaza
>
> From:
> "Rex" in NYC
>
Dear Roving Gastronome Staff Ethicist,

I'm hoping you can give me some advice. I recently attended a lamb roast very similar to the one described so colorfully on these pages. Coincidentally, this lamb roast also featured a main course of lamb accompanied by pot-luck side dishes from all the guests. Well, as it happened, I didn't actually have time to cook anything that weekend, so I just bought some prepared food at Whole Foods and brought it along as my potluck contribution. The problem is, once I got there I pretended I had made the food myself! There I was, surrounded by lovingly homemade dishes of brains, of liver, of little cupcakes with hand-piped frosting decorated with mint springs -- and my dish was a fraud. A lie! True, I think it brought some pleasure into people's lives, judging from the way they were shoveling it in, but I feel sort of sleazy. Does this incident mean that, at heart, I am not a true 'foodie'?



Dear Rueful "Rex":

There are certainly some shades of gray in this issue. Certainly it sounds as if you never actively said, "Whoo-boy, I slaved over a hot stove for those babies. I hope you like 'em." So if your foodie friends jump to the conclusion that you made them, it simply reflects their mindset; if you were to do the same at a party full of other harried Manhattanites, the guests would likely assume you _had not_ cooked the carrots in question. And I would imagine that you, aka Mr. Conscientious, certainly arrived at the party with a clearly marked "Whole Foods" bag in hand, so as never to be accused of trying to disguise your contribution. If all this is the case, then put your
mind at rest.

What matters is that the food tastes good (and ideally has no hydrogenated fats). In this respect, I would imagine your contribution met the high standards set by your foodie friends. Why, coincidentally, a fellow attendee at my Sunday lamb roast, when presented with this hypothetical situation, was reminded of similar
carrots he had eaten, and said, "Who cares? They were _great_ carrots!"

He, in fact, saw the quickie carrots as an interesting test of the foodie ethic, suggesting that perhaps people would not have praised them had they known they had been purchased, not slaved over with thine own two hands. Ah, the double-edged sword of the critics!

In any case, I'm sure the carrots reflected your excellent taste, and this is what's really valued. Had you purchased two dozen of those chocolate-marshmallow puffs you see at deli checkouts, well, then you'd be cast down.

Sleaze no more, noble carrot-bearer.

Ethically yours--

RG

It ain’t that easy

Zora makes this whole lamb roasting thing sound as easy as a McDonald's drive-thru, but I don’t remember it that way. It's really still a lot of planning and a fair bit of work. Sure, I’m lounging around in my house at 2pm on the day of the lamb roast. I had confidence. But it was hardly angst free.

This is in response to Zora's account of the lamb roast. You can read her account with this link. You should read Zora's account first.

Please note:

1) This lamb roast was *my* idea, not Tamara’s. But I digest.

2) The whole versus cut lamb decision was made in part based on transport issues. It's one thing to carry three bags with 60 pounds of lamb on your bike. No problem, in fact. It's another thing entirely to carry a 60-pound lamb on your bike. What if I clipped some old lady while going home? What if the lamb fell off, creating all kinds of traffic and scavenging chaos in the streets of Astoria? Besides, Tamara insisted that the *further* butcher was better than the *closer* butcher (the one with sawdust and the nice light fixtures). Who knows? But I didn’t want to take a chance.

3) The whole tying-up process. We still don’t have this down pat. You put a greasy hunk of meat on a smooth round shaft add heat and start turning. And what do you know, the thing starts slipping. My strategy was lots of twine straight around and very tight. Karl had some fancy-schmancy idea of diagonal ties, tying one piece to the next. Turns out his ties worked while mine, well, mine gave the lamb a nice squeeze. But I was so certain that Karl’s plan didn’t make sense I wouldn’t even pay attention to what he did. So now we need Karl again for next time, too.

Of course the lamb needed some re-tying during the roasting process. This allowed me a chance to (repeatedly) question Karl’s manhood as he kvetched, “It’s hot!” Take the pain, man! Take the pain. Later, however, we were all silently awed when a real manly-man lit his cigarette straight from the coals… while the coals where still in the fire.

4) The lamb chop problem. We were going to cook them on Tamara’s grill. But her grill is some off-brand piece of shit that has no depth. I realized I couldn’t place the chops 2 inches above the coals, but I couldn’t figure out a good alternative. This is where Naomi saved the day with sidewise cinderblocks *in* the barrel holding the grill cover a perfect height above the glowing coals. We all earn our keep around here.

5) Amazingly, I didn’t turn the lamb one single revolution the whole night. I do feel kind of cheated. But it does make me feel like everything is perfect when I can manage and delegate effectively. Of course, the Super-bowl view (Katie’s idea—did I mention we all earn our keep?) sure didn’t hurt.

6) Somewhere in this process, the simmered lamb tongue was lost. More fodder for the future ghosts of Tamara’s place.

Victoria’s Birthday Lamb Roast

For a nice description of the day, see Roving Gastronome.

This time, our lamb was actually from a butcher. But we may have eaten this little cutie last time.


Karl stoking the fire.

Lamb waiting to be placed on the grill.

Instructions for the ("stupid") Arab butcher. But ended up not going to that place. But thanks for all these, Ali. P.S. Of course you can't read this, but at least act cool and move your eyes from right to left. Each line in numbered on the right side.

Directions and recipes for lamb-head related items: brains, soup, tongue. Karine pointed out, "man, your spelling really is bad." Yeah, thanks. I know. And don't forget, this was written in a bar.

How to cut the lamb (view is from top down, with the lamb looking butterflied), diagram of flank and how to slice it, and liver recipe.

How to skewer the lamb leg and shoulder.

Brains.

Head, neck, and shanks (end of arms and legs) making soup stock.

Browning thicker shanks (closer to shoulder) before being roasting in the over.

Head removed from stock, cooling. The checks were then eaten straight. The toungue... I think it was lost.

The early turns.

Hired help chopping the chops.

Katie and Adrienne

Brains cooking, looking good.

Slicing brains, served with garlic and onions in vermouth. Not many people ate them.

The two shoulders waiting for Karl's carving genious.

Lamb shanks, preserved lemon, pomegranate syrup, an onion, a carrot, cumin and coriander seeds. And a smidge of saffron. Three hours of oven magic, et voila: Tamara astounded at her own genius.

Braised shanks. I didn't get to try this. sigh.

Karvin' Karl

Carving

Getting more booze.

still carving

The legs off the spit. They never did get carved. That's how much meat there was.

Enough carving, already!

Tail-end of the lamb chops.

Oh, baby!

Eating meat.
The fruits of my labor.

Karl and the birthday girl.

African ass-shaking in the kitchen.

Getting things done (like dishes?)

good bye

Too big indeed.

Ali and his latest harem.

All those bikes make me think of Amsterdam.