Fifty years from now Americans will be able to assess whether or not a Food Revolution is happening. By Revolution I mean returning as much as we can to the Local as well as the Seasonal, and taking the time to shop for fresh available ingredients. So far, it's been problematic within Burleigh County: for example, today (12/01/2007) I noticed the tomatoes at the local sandwich shops should have never been sliced and presented -- let alone served. They had been gassed, or something or other, to induce a tinge of "red" (it looked more orange with hints of green). In theory, it was supposed to look "ripe." In practice: tasteless slices, all with a mushy texture.
The food preparer (as she was likely trained by the Corporate to do) asked some kin of mine if they wanted tomatoes. At first my kin said yes. But I had been scrutinizing those damned tomatoes. Appealing to my kin, I said, "Look at those tomatoes. Not in season. Bad idea." Minds were changed, and he quickly said, "No tomatoes." The preparer was embarrassed, believing she had to take the brunt of the blame. But she shouldn't have felt guilt: the blame should be distributed equally, or not at all.
And later this afternoon, I stumbled across a passage in Molto Italiano: 327 Simple Italian Recipes To Cook At Home, assembled by the Italiano Culinary Titan, Mario Batali.
Just like the Italians, Batali is demanding that we return to what is all-too common sense for regions of Italia: Local and Seasonal.
Speaking of fish, Batali said that North American wild fish are "some of the most delicious... in the world." This ranges from what Batali mentions: Pacific salmon, Dungeness crab, Gulf shrimp, and Chatham cod. But also note the freshwaters of the upper Plains and Rocky Mountain Basin: walleye, pike, steel-head trout, and so on.
Yet as we seek out, purchase, cook or grill and consume these tasty fish, it's also not a bad idea to buy local while understanding how our singular decisions collectively impact the broader world. With this, Batali asks us to consult the Monterey Bay Aquarium's "Seafood Watch Program." In the altruistic sense, this sight will make you feel like you're making a fucking difference (but who really gives a shit, right?): don't eat a species into extinction, damnit!
In the self-interested sense (which also bears on our fluttery and romantic notions of Altruism), this Monterey Bay list can guide you to the tastiest fish for the most reasonable -- aka, "frugal," and "cheap" -- price. The more abundant the fish, the less monetary cost. The Invisible Hand, baby. Time to dine with Adam Smith & Co.
(Note: For wild biographical culinary excerpts on Batali, see Bill Buford's, HEAT -- the subtitle does a much better job paraphrasing than I could: "AN AMATEUR'S ADVENTURES AS KITCHEN SLAVE, LINE COOK, PASTA-MAKER, AND APPRENTICE TO A DANTE-QUOTING BUTCHER IN TUSCANY." See what I mean.).
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4 comments:
I tend to agree with a lot of what's been said here, but last night I got local and seasonal overdo here. The place is so American that it has hit all the local papers with chef-genius vapours. This is awful and overdone. It's a lot of fashion.Don't get me wrong, the food was very good, but compared to my favorite little Italian joint here it's way overblown.
Gimme the out-of-towner (Albanian as it turns out!) that knows what he's doing and cooks traditional good hearty fare rather than the Karl Lagerfeld of cassoulet.
You're right on, JJ. And with this initial post I didn't mean to suggest that good food originates with the Mario Batali posse (besides, Mario uses too much olive oil in his dishes -- only about 50-75% of what he uses is needed).
For example, when I can, at the grocery store I look for potatoes from the Red River Valley (of the north) rather than what's brought in from Idaho. The Celebrity-ness of the Food Revolution is a simultaneous strength and weakness: it allows the broad dispersment of these culinary ideas, but also tends to do what you experienced: chef-genius vapours. Bagh! No good, as you point out.
Yep, sort of. I threw a party at the house not long ago. A good friend of mine from Greece was co-chef. He called worriedly about an hour before we were to meet to find out how much olive oil I had on hand. The party was for ten so I had bought a fresh liter bottle of Badalucco. He said I was cutting it close!
He was right, though. He made some of these. They were wonderful and yes, we ran out of oil.
I chatted with another friend about olive oil last night at a Buffalo Wild Wings while Dakota belles in short-shorts ran us cold beers in the warm indoors, and icy Canadian winds drifted the recent snowfall out of doors.
Through this dialog, my friend and I decided that 1.) we (Minnesotans and Dakotans) aren't accoustomed to the amounts of olive oil used in Italian cooking proper (cut it back to 50-75%); and 2.) our waitress belle should hang out with us some time (can't be too forward with Dakota girls).
Both ideas seemed to hit the mark. We soon ordered another round of Sam Adam's seasonal Winter Lager.
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