food

"...you know what they say on the barstool, there's poor and there's poor."

I'm a few years behind the curve on these last few posts, I know, but I figured it couldn't hurt to bring it up again anyways.

I was feeling sorry for myself just now about my (very relative) state of brokeness, and found this online. I don't feel sorry for myself any more. It's a few years old, but timeless.

What it means: being poor.

Oh, and check out the comments at the bottom too.

This is how.

Damn, why does all my favorite stuff have to become morally compromised? Lame. Guess I'll have to start spending a few more bucks and go to the macrobiotic place on 13th for lunch from now on.

Now, my life is complete.

I just ended (perhaps not permanently) my relationship with the Park Slope Food Co-op. Unlike this chowhound writer or the author of this economically-based criticism of the co-op in Gothamist, I like the co-op just fine. I think it's a great place, and my beefs are greatly outweighed by what I think is great about the co-op:

1. you can get high-quality food for cheap,
2. you are supporting a successful alternative economic structure within the larger capitalist political economy we live in which is at least trying to put people rather than profit first (I won't get into an argument about how well it is succeeding),
3. point 2 is what enables point 1...not really a separate thing but I thought I'd mention it,
4. and, you can meet many interesting people there (and, yes, some nutjobs too).

Well, why am I leaving then? Because I just don't go there any more! I moved to Lefferts Gardens last Fall and now the only time I shop at the co-op is when I have my shift. It's inconvenient for me, based on where I live, and I end up going to the bodega across the street for my gallon of milk, cans of goya beans and tortillas or one of the many wonderful produce stands that line Flatbush avenue if I want good produce or funky hot sauce (those West Indians sure can make some tasty, spicy hot sauce...). I also get good-quality free-range and organic chicken or beef from the greenmarket in Union Square, or from Whole Foods (although that is pricey), because I work on 13th and 5th.

It just doesn't make sense for me to be a co-op member right now. I don't care enough, I'll admit it.

However, I did make sure and ask if I could come back into the fold without taking the orientation again...someday, co-op, you will be mine again, and welcome me back into your urban-hippie left-wing sanctuary, surrounded by faux-pâté, organic red-leafed kale, and Wild-caught non-exploitative Alaskan salmon jerky. *sigh*

I just finished reading an article in the New York Times by Michael Pollan, author of The Omnivore's Dilemma: A Natural History of Four Meals. I heard about the book from a friend early last fall, then I bought it for my girlfriend's brother who shares my abiding interest in food (and I snuck a reading of the introduction and part of the first section on corn before I gave it to him). I haven't read the book yet but it's on my list.

The Times piece, "Unhappy Meal" (inspired by the antonymously named McDonald's children's food product no doubt) goes into some detail on the history in the United States of what Pollan characterizes as "nutritionism" (he gives Australian sociologist Gyorgy Scrinis credit for the term). Based on what I got from the article, nutritionism can be defined as the reductionism of nutrition to constituent parts at the expense of health, or...really any other perspective. Pollan argues that we actually know very little about how our body processes food to allow for good health, and we would do well to eat how our great-great-grandparents ate, and avoid adhering to the latest food fads (low fat, low carb, etc.).

Pollan connects nutritionism to politics and economics. Senator George McGovern's Senate Select Committee on Nutrition announced in 1977 that Americans should "choose meats, poultry and fish that will reduce saturated-fat intake." But this was a replacement for the committee's original statement that Americans should "reduce consumption of meat"--the language changed after the dairy and meat industries screamed bloody murder. Pollan suggests that this is the origin of the current American trend toward confusingly focusing on invisible components of food rather than whole foodstuffs.

He ends with a list of suggested dietary rules for living the good life. These include choosing higher quality, less processed food, avoiding food with unrecognizable ingredients or high-fructose corn syrup (sure markers of extra processing), skipping foods marketed with health claims (my favorite line from the article: "Don’t take the silence of the yams as a sign that they have nothing valuable to say about health") and he says we should all eat more greens.

I think my mom would approve.

Hello friends. I have succeeded in my most tremendous creation yet. Truly, such splendour has not passed the lips of any person yet this holiday season, for that person would be found dead on the street, a grotesque smile of joy on their face, while their loved ones surrounded them, sobbing and lamenting the decision to allow even one morsel of the delectable caramel-brownie flesh to be produced and ingested. Truly, I have wrestled with the power of the gods, and wrought a brownie so terrible, so powerful, and so...dense and chocolately, that I might lose my mind and run screaming from this kitchen. I am become death, destroyer of low expectations for chocolately-caramel treats.

Er...actually, I got the recipe for the best turtle brownies evar at Cooking Debauchery. I spilled my first bowl of heavy cream, and I messed up the caramel the first time through so it turned black, and I had to toast two batches of pecans 'cause I burnt the first batch, and I didn't do as nearly as good of a job cutting as Ms. Debauchery did, but they still tasted amazing. I'll be making this recipe again, but I think next time I'll start before 10:30 PM so I'm not up until 4:00 AM. Woah.

I need to learn how to make stuff so I can charge $85 a plate. Sheesh.