Wise Old Cows?

A new local yogurt in the case at PCC this morning?! (The things that get me going!) Yes, I was tickled to find that Grace Harbor Farms of Custer, Washington is making cream top yogurt from their Guernsey cows–and it tasted darn fantastic with my morning muesli!

I had been making my own yogurt for awhile this fall, but after three rounds of failed batches, I decided to stick to store-bought until I could get a yogurt machine and rely on a more controlled temperature. I had been buying Greek Gods, a thick, rich yogurt made by a company based right over in Mountlake Terrace. Then decided to cut back on price and go with an equally fine specimen of yogurt–Brown Cow, despite its being shipped from California. Brown Cow has a uniquely perfect smoothness (none of that chunky-ness) that is addictive, like ice cream.

But today I was eager to spend an extra dollar to try the new kid on the block–Grace Harbor. I was intrigued by two things: they use clear containers, so you can see the creamy goodness in all its separated glory waiting to be eaten, and also, the name: Golden Guernsey Yogurt. Curious. Guernsey, as in The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Society, a similarly addictive book I tore through earlier this year set on the English island of Guernsey, involving literature, war, and a tantalizingly concealed romance–would my yogurt be as good?

Well, maybe, but in a different way. Turns out Guernsey is a breed of cows that originally came from the island of the same name and also happens to have a potential health benefit for us humans. It’s one of several cow breeds known to produce “A2 Milk,” a more ancient version of the “A1 Milk” most of the world drinks today. At this point, the research is minimal, but there is some conjecture that the beta-casein of A2 milk (sans the later A1 mutation) may lead to a lower rate of heart disease, amongst other theorized health benefits. Looks like we’ll have to wait a few years to find out more specifics on these possibilities, but meanwhile, there is other clearly defined info on the superior quality of Guernsey milk. “Guernsey milk contains 12% more protein, 30% more cream, 33% more vitamin D, 25% more vitamin A and 15% more calcium than average milk,” says worldguernseys.org.

And like I said, it tastes darn good and home-made-like. They’re even selling it at Whole Foods, Metropolitan Market, and Madison Market, in addition to PCC and several places up near Bellingham. Comes in vanilla or plain.

http://www.graceharborfarms.com/index.html

[Other info taken from "A2 Milk" article on the Wiki.]

A Serious Talk

(Rubbing hands together, deep breath) As I begin to start a series of entries on food politics, I realize it’s a sensitive issue–not all that different from the birds and the bees talk your parents might have given you. “Well, honey, the truth is, you didn’t come from a stork,” it starts. “You see, when mommy and daddy fell in love…”

And you know how gruesome the truth turned out to be there.

So, brace yourself. Here comes the story of the broccoli and the beets, as it were. The story of where your food really comes from.

Your food didn’t really come from a happy little farmer named Old MacDonald. You see, back in the ’40s during and after World War II, a chemical company called Monsanto fell in love…with profit.

Monsanto was a company that had its hands in a little thing called the Manhattan Project, and was doing well for itself during war times making all those chemicals. It even started manufacturing the insecticide DDT to help kill a lot of typhus- and malaria-carrying insects in areas where soldiers were fighting. However, once the war was won, Monsanto needed to do something with all their chemicals, so they started selling DDT as an agricultural insecticide to farmers back in the US. As we know now, DDT is toxic and negatively effects reproduction in many animals including humans. Fortunately, DDT is now banned from American soil. However, Monsanto has continued creating products with similarly scary stories ever since.

In addition to inventing Agent Orange (of Vietnam War fame), rBGH (bovine growth hormone for dairy cows), and aspartame (artificial sweetener) over the years, Monsanto kept experimenting with chemicals that could be used on crops–culminating in what is today the world’s top seller in weed-killers: Roundup. This herbicide, it turns out, is so good at killing plants that it takes a toll on the crops themselves, which is why, finally in 1996, Monsanto found some scientists to genetically modify soy seeds so that the plants could withstand Monsanto’s own toxic chemicals and keep them in business.

In 1996, they patented the genetically modified (GM) soy seed, and in 1998 patented GM corn seed as well. Monsanto has done such a good job marketing itself (and patenting its products) that it is now responsible for selling 90% of the world’s GM seeds, each with a side of chemicals (that they also sell and have patented) to go with. And now you can pretty much guarantee that if you’re eating soy in the US, it’s been genetically modified and produced with lots of chemicals, with Monsanto selling 98% of all US soybeans. With such success, Monsanto has quickly moved on to genetically modify as many other crops as it can get its hands on, pushing chemical use higher and higher all the way.

Sadly, the bad news does not end here. It seems that with Monsanto and many big agribusiness corporations, the more you learn, the deeper the rabbit hole gets. From chemical dumping, to bullying small farmers with bogus lawsuits, to monopolizing the seed market, and causing third world farmers to acquire massive debt and commit suicide, the list of Monsanto’s evils goes on.

But for now, the point I want to get across is: farming with chemicals is not normal farming, nor is it necessary for agriculture to prosper. Humans had been farming just fine for 10,000 years before the last seventy years changed that. Chemical pesticides and herbicides, vast monoculture industrial farms of soy and corn, and food jacked full of processed filler ingredients are not normal. And they only happened because of a love of profit. Not sustenance, not health, not saving the hungry in Africa. They happened because of the capitalist benefit of an over-abundance of chemical production during WWII.

That’s it.

So I know that organic food is expensive, and I know that it’s hard times, but what I want you to know is that organic food is really the normal food, the food made for eating. All the other food is the food made for profit.

But don’t worry–this is good news! Because now you know, you can do something about it. For your own health, for your loved ones, for your culture, and for your planet. Now you know the truth about your food. And you can celebrate eating real food whenever you can and fighting for the right you have to some day be able to eat only real food all the time.

The first step in this fight for me has been supporting local, small, organic farmers as much as I can by buying their produce. Even if it’s just a few apples from the farmer’s market every week, that is a contribution. The beginning of a commitment to start working back to real agriculture and real food. And to righting what was made wrong for all of us.

[This bedtime story has been told to me several times, so much that I consider it common knowledge. But it also happens to be well-documented on Wikipedia's entry on Monsanto, and any dates or figures or details here were acquired from that page.]

Pink Salmon Stew for V-Day

Oh, alright! So I couldn’t help myself! I’ve been poo-poo-ing Valentine’s Day all week, but tonight when it came time to finish the salmon stew I’d dreamt up, I found myself walking in the evening’s light to the store for a bouquet…of beets! Turns out, once you get over yourself, it’s just hard to hate a day made for love.

Watched Some Like it Hot while slurping my pink salmon stew:

Sauteed one onion, four cloves garlic in oil and butter. Added and boiled 10 cups water/3 spoons chicken broth. Two diced potatoes, two diced parsnips, a head of chopped cauliflower, and two diced beets to make it pink! And in goes a bottle of IPA! Simmered couple cups of cream, then stirred into the pot. Add the sockeye salmon pieces I cooked last night (one and a half pounds of “trims” for four bucks–the inspiration for it all). Salt, pepper…cayenne (three good pinches)…still needs…BACON! Like I said before, makes anything better. And it did. A little parsley on the top and bingo, slurping heaven to go with my Marilyn Monroe.

Love and more love, to all.

Free-form Summer Rolls

:Vietnamese rice “spring roll skins” (the ones that come hard and you have to soak first), soba noodles, slices of grilled tempeh, parsley, thai peanut satay sauce, pesto sauce.

Summer rolls? Not the original, but this concoction tasted pretty good!

One of those experiments that really looked like it was headed into the ditch from the start. But in this case necessity was the kind-hearted mother of invention. Found the spring roll skins at PCC but no skinny rice noodles, so I went with the soba (had never tried them, but knew they were supposed to be good for you). Tofu? Nah, I’m all scared right now about soy products and cancer–but tempeh has fermented soy in it, which is supposed to negate the bad effects. Basil? Um, not in season: waaayy too expensive. Pesto? Sure, that’ll do. Make my own peanut sauce? Not this time. The jar of it is only three and a half bucks. “Splurge” for the luxury of ease.

When I got home I realized I had run out of lettuce, so I used the only green thing I’d bought at the store: parsley. Not bad! And the pesto sauce combined with the thai peanut??…actually works! (I mean really, both of those sauces are things you can’t go wrong with–like bacon: add it to anything, and it’s better.)

Following what I knew and inserting replacements where needed. When this philosophy actually provides satisfying results (I’d say about sixty percent of the time), I’m reminded of why I really love cooking.

Tacos y Shumai

My weekend included two fantastic eating experiences. A full on authentic-as-you-can-get-without-being-Mexican taco buffet at my brother-the-gourmand’s house. He actually made his own carnitas (a process which requires not only stewing as well as roasting the pork shoulder…but also dousing in milk!? I am mystified!) in addition to a bacon-y bean option, and relishes including salsa verde, chipotle salsa, salsa fresca, guac (healthy on the lime and salt and chili: perfection), queso blanco, and a strong marguerita to match! All home-made except for the cheese and the marguerita mix. I was blown away. And that was before I started eating. After I started, I remembered that God put us here on earth for one reason: to eat salty fatty carnitas with reverence for every perfect bite. God, I’m glad to be eating meat again!

After a rocking night of Wii table tennis dominated by my five year old niece (and gooey brownies to completely stuff my blissful system), the morning led to dim sum with the girls in the international district. Yes, why slow down when it is, after all, super bowl sunday? Jade Garden is touted as the best dim sum in the ID, and so we waited for a half hour in a patient crowd of Chinese families filling the entryway. We must have come at the end of a wave of kitchen production, as most of the food was luke warm and getting cold. But this did not stop us from gobbling down plenty of dumplings and the regular delights: candied walnut shrimp, sweet pork humbao, sesame ball (I could write an ode to this one!), and much more. We are in the process of scouting out the genuine names of what we tried…and what we should try in the future. Jade Garden down. Every other dim sum restaurant in Seattle to go!

Rice in a ____ leaf?

Those fruit tarts almost got away from us!

Mystical coriander seed, how you taunt me!

Coriander: seed, leaf, or voodoo mind trixter?

The inspiration to make yellow dhal tonight led to the purchase of ground coriander seed. However, not because it was called for in the recipe. But because cilantro was. And from my experience in India, I had been thinking cilantro and coriander were somehow the same thing. But they taste nothing alike! A mystery I had never made clear in India. Time to buy some coriander seed and figure it out once and for all.

Scooping some out from the bulk jar at the store, I sniffed it and suddenly India came back to me. It’s a flavor I became very familiar with but had not learned to identify. In many of the recipes I took down I noted coriander as an ingredient, but hadn’t connected the strange lime-y yet spicy aroma with its name, always just one part of the barage of spices in each bite of Indian foods. Finally singling it out here at home, I realize it is yet another perfect example of surreal India. A spice that’s as beautifully strange and mixed up as a woman in a glittering chartreuse sari wearing plastic sandals dusted by a dirt road. You thought lime and cardamom couldn’t exist in one seed? Well, meet coriander.

In Indian cooking, it’s everywhere. But the image that came to mind on the first sniff was of a beloved green chutney I had several times on the farm. Tangy and spicy and cool, it was only made on special occasions, and went on top of everything.

But what about cilantro? Is it the same thing? Well, yes and no. What we Americans know as “cilantro” is the leaf of the coriander plant. As it turns out, Indians (and everyone else in the world besides North Americans) call the leaf “coriander” too. Right. Makes sense. Same plant, same name. But they taste completely different! A seed that tastes like lime/cardamom coming from the same plant whose leaves taste like spicy soap?!

Following the curiosity of my nose, after starting the chana dhal (yellow lentils) to simmer tonight, I went to dig out my journal. Flip, flip, flip…Ah! Green chutney, a sauce I knew was green due to its inclusion of cilantro (or “coriander leaf”).  On my last day at the farm I managed to remember to ask for the recipe. A list of ingredients quickly scrawled on the page: coriander, onion, garlic, ginger, chile, salt. I read the list again, thinking I’d missed it. Huh? But where’s the coriander seed? I was sure it must have been an ingredient. Which coriander was this hastily noted recipe referring to? Seed or leaf? I knew it had to have coriander leaf (cilantro) to make it so green. But I thought for sure I had tasted coriander seed. This very distinctive flavor now floating in my kitchen. It was a perfect match in my nose. But not on paper.

And so this post leaves me having searched the internet as far as I can to find a green chutney recipe including coriander seed. Without success. How could my taste memory have been so wrong? For I remember tasting both the aromatic cilantro taste as well as the citrus-y coriander seed flavor. It had to be there, that mystical coriander seed! The only clues I have found are some recipes which include other sour/citrus-y ingredients, like tamarind and mustard seed. But no coriander seed. Always coriander leaf, but no coriander seed. I am totally bewildered and stumped.

The things that a foodie allows to haunt herself…

And back to reality, the yellow dhal tonight turned out great. By the way, I ended up adding ground coriander seed despite its not being called for in the recipe. And it was damn good! It gives the otherwise thick, heavy, turmeric-flavored mush a tang that kept me coming back for re-fills.

Yellow Dhal, as per The Joy of Cooking, and me:

- Rinse 1 cup of yellow split peas and put in pot with 2 cups water, one diced onion, a few diced cloves of garlic, a teaspoon powdered ginger, a teaspoon turmeric. Boil and then simmer until lentils are cooked.

- Puree in “food mill” (I still don’t really know what this is) — or a blender, as I did.

- Return to pot and add 1 cup water and a couple teaspoons salt. Simmer another twenty minutes.

- The Joy says add 2 jalapeno peppers, 1 tomato, and fresh cilantro (or “coriander leaf” as we now know it) … But I added a can of diced tomatoes, chopped dinosaur kale, sliced carrots, a sprinkling of cayenne powder, several dashes of ground cumin, and about a half teaspoon ground coriander seed. In all its glory.

- I let the whole thing simmer for long enough to let the carrots cook through and then dished it up, splattering yellow drops in all directions. Burnt my tongue on both the first and second bites. Waited for it to cool, then gobbled.

As for the green chutney, I will be waiting to make this until I find a recipe that includes coriander seed. Because I am recklessly stubborn when it comes to being right about taste. (Fizzle…)