Food Inc.

LOVE having grandma live nearby. Saw Food Inc. last night, our fourth movie in three years, and cannot get over it.

What has become of our nation’s food supply? Why is it all made from a couple of crops, paid for by tax dollars, even though it’s not the healthiest food?

I mean, I taught Fast Food Nation for three years to my freshman English students. And I’m pretty well versed in everything Pollan says on NPR when they get in one of their all-food-all-the-time blocks. But I’m still shocked by a lot of what Food Inc. had to say.

Sure, it had the predictable propaganda moments. Music swell over repeated shots of the boy who died from E coli poisoning because beef recalls are still voluntary and the FDA and USDA have no real regulatory power anymore. Dastardly sinister music while we watch what technology has done to assembly-line food production. But pretty simple parsing of the purpose of the film would predict that. Of course it’s propaganda. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t have important information. Critical thinking skills (which, unfortunately, are not always taught in colleges anymore), deduce that most of the fundamentals of the film are sound.

Mostly, I’m shocked that when the government complains we’re out of money, that we can’t get Americans healthy because we can’t afford it, they’re ignoring a glaringly simple way to rescue two birds with one pocketed stone: stop paying anyone not following organic practices. Stop it. It should not cost tax payers for huge farming corporations (all four of them who control virtually all of what this country produces) to make food seem cheap. What tax dollars buy is the ability for chemical-laden corn syrup and soy Frankenbeans to be cheaper than more healthful foods (healthful for our bodies and the planet).

If we stop paying huge multinational corporations to produce tons and tons and tons of food that we then overprocess and feed to animals who should be eating something else, maybe food will cost what it should. Maybe a head of broccoli will be cheaper than brown, carbonated sugar water trucked all across the country using scarce petroleum. Maybe organic proteins will be cheaper than a chemical-laden, ammonia bathed, bacteria-opportunistic burger or chlorine washed chicken breast at a fast food restaurant. Or maybe people will cut back from their average of 200 pounds of meat a year because the real cost finally makes it a food they enjoy but limit.

And maybe if we take the tax savings and pay for health care, people who buy the now cheaper whole foods will be healthier and not need as much medical treatment. Maybe obesity and diabetes will decline from epidemic proportions and we will all be eating what our local farmers produce instead of the chemical sludge, shipped from thousands of miles away, that we’re all pretending is food.

So cut all subsidies to food producing companies. Don’t lie about how important corn syrup is for our national health. If we have that much corn, so much that it can be processed into any number of pretend foods, then we have too much corn. Stop paying agribusiness to genetically modify and pesticide and herbicide and chemically fertilize and gas-harvest and chemically wash and process and alter and reprocess and package and truck and sell.

Now that we have all that money back, take the savings and give us health care instead of massive profit private health insurance. Or subsidize organic farms and teach small farmers to become organic farmers. It would do the nation’s food supply a lot more good than huge quantities of sprayed and processed and modified foods.

And while the gov. is taking care of that, please vote with your dollars. Buy food grown safely by people you trust.

After the movie, we ate here and I still eyed the potatoes, a produuct normally so pesticide and herbicide treated that it has to sit for several weeks after harvest to outgas all the chemicals before it’s deemed suitable for human consumption. Mmmmm.

THAT

Well, turns out it doesn’t much matter if you don’t want it to be THAT. Sometimes it just is. I mean, it’s not the THAT that I feared. It’s some sort of parasitic frog that has taken up residence in my rumbly and queasy parts. This THAT, however, means business, as it is busy pumping blood through its froginess at like 2 million beats per minute. Little f—er seems pretty sure, even if we’re not.

I have no idea on this earth how I will make it once that frog is big enough to get out. I’m hoping it find a way to fit in because I am so over the child-centric attachment gentle thoughtful nonsense. AND, I have today only lost the contents of my stomach three times, which is an improvement. I’ve switched the “before I get horizontal” snack from pretzels or lollies, neither of which worked, to Clif shot bloks which work much better, if only because they’re easier coming back up. And I’m now officially on an all-sports-beverage hydration plan wherein I popsicle and chilled electrolyte concoction sip (only from a straw—the doc, who turned out to be an obstetrician rather than a oncologist (ooops I guess that was wishful thinking) said somehow stuff stays down better if sipped from a straw not guzzled from a wide mouth glass…who knew). Feel queasy but MUCH better now hydrated and electrolyted. Yummy expensive kind of natural and organic beverages that I gave up after my triathlon days. Happy to be earning them again, for they are way tasty.

Seven weeks. That is both a marker or current status and a hope for when these sensations will end. For it would be nice to be excited or even pleased, but I don’t foresee that until I can go for a walk without decorating the neighbors’ lawns with bile. And there are probably about 40-50 days of massive puking in my future. Then all hell breaks loose next March.

I want that voiceover guy who does summer blockbuster movies to prepare us. “Coming soon to a blog near you. Watch if you dare…”

Olallieberry Cardamom Crisp

We had a lovely day picking olallieberries at Swanton Farms yesterday. They just opened their second patch, and the berries will be good for at least another two weeks.

Here’s what  Peanut and I did with half of the seven pounds we picked.  Crisps have no crust so it is much easier to let a toddler handle the whole recipe. Feel free to use blackberries or raspberries instead, though cut the sugar a bit.

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Olallieberry Cardamom Crisp Recipe

Filling:
* 4 cups olallieberries, cleaned and stemmed
* 1/2 cup organic brown sugar
* 3 Tbl whole wheat flour
* 1/2 teaspoon cardamom
* 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon

Crisp Topping
* 6 Tbl unsalted butter, cut into half-Tbl chunks
* 3/4 cups organic maple flakes (or brown sugar)
* 2/3 cup whole wheat flour
* 1/2 cup organic steel cut oats
* 1/4 tsp salt
* 1 tsp ground cinnamon
* 1/4 tsp ground cardamom

Post-baking Topping
* 6 Tbl ground flaxseed meal
* 4 Tbl maple flakes (or use brown sugar)

Adult: Preheat the oven to 375 degrees.
Everyone: Wash and dry hands. Smear stick of butter into an 8×8 or 2+quart baking dish. Use paper towel to smoosh butter into every corner and along sides. Make the Topping by putting ingredients into bowl and smooshing with hands until it’s just crumbs. Set aside. In another bowl toss the filling ingredients as gently as you can. Pour the berry mixture to the buttered baking dish and sprinkle with the crisp topping.
Adult: Place the baking dish on a baking sheet in oven (to catch any juices that might spill during cooking) and bake until the top is well browned and the berries are tender when pierced with a knife, about 45 minutes.

Cool for 5 minutes and sprinkle the flaxseed meal and maple flakes on top. (Cooking flaxseed ruins most of its health benefits, and sprinkling it on makes the topping too uniform.)

Serve plain or topped with plain yogurt, frozen yogurt, non-dairy frozen stuff, freshly milked and skimmed cream (best, hands down), or ice cream.

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Seriously

I’m not kidding. This is what I want to do.

Not the journalism part. The goatherding and cheesemaking part.

Seriously, seriously, seriously.

Maybe not Vermont. It’s cold there. Pretty. Cold. So’s New Hampster. But again, pretty. Collegiate. Cosmopolitan in fits and starts. Hmmmmmm.

As I posted last month, Peanut has already put in a request to be a cheesemaker. Our tour at the Pt. Reyes creamery is set for later this month.  After devouring their website and a wheel of Cowgirl Creamery’s  Mt. Tam brie, he is concerned that his brown shoes won’t fit when he’s big, and since he’s already picked them as his cheesemaking shoes, he’s in a quandry. Or was, for, like five minutes. Then he decided that if I would buy him red boots and a pink scooter when he’s big, that all his problems are solved.

Sure. And 75 acres of forested farmland, buddy.

Consider this

Item one: Peanut walked at least 3 miles and ran on half mile of today’s 4.5 mile hike in my favorite of all places to find early blackberries, Tilden Regional Park.

Item two: I had counted on a two hour workout with 35 lbs in a backpack but settled for a glorious four hour blackberry and poison oak extravaganza.

Item three: Peanut took a full hour to eat his pudding (yes, it’s Tuesday!) and PB&LC before acquiescing to nap.  I almost clawed my own eyes out.

Item four: But I didn’t. I read Infinite Jest instead.

Item five: Spouse came home early for Tennis Tuesday and we all ate crackers and hummus in between sets. And by sets I mean whenever Peanut decided he was done playing hockey with my old tennis racquet and the pink tennis ball he picked out. I’ve been playing tennis since I could walk. And I think I found out today that I’m really a lefty.

Item six: We walked the half block home and played one round of Candyland. Ask The Kitchen Witch how I feel about Candyland.

Item seven: Peanut and Spouse screamed at each other through another bath. And teeth. And new mouthwash because, my  god, that kid’s breath stinks for someone who brushes twice a day. Damn.

Item eight: After his timeout for kicking Daddy, Peanut and I had a lovely talk and two books.

Item nine: Peanut then screamed and cried for an extra song after stories and songs.

I need an item ten. Because today is all ping-pongy between phenomenal and crappy. And though the day was great overall, I’m left on a slight aftertaste of crappy. So I’m breaking all this week’s rules about refined sugar and dairy and wine and such (long story, different post, fourteen alien pounds dragging me down as though they need to be the straw that f—ing poked the camel in the eye then laughed as it tried to cry but couldn’t because it lives in a desert and even a camel’s body knows not to waste tears on something so stupid, but mine doesn’t) to have a South African shiraz and some mediocre soy ice crap with coffee and chocolate in it. And pizza. And some pistachios  I just found. And maybe some heirloom tomatoes with balsamic and olive oil and grey salt. For fiber.

Hopes and dreams and cheese

Peanut’s list, at three years and two months, of things he would like to be when he’s big, has not changed a whit since three years and one month. So I think this is really it. I’m looking into colleges. And since he wanted some that need college and some that don’t, and he unwittingly stumbled upon the perfectly balanced list (in his order, verbatim, except for the lack of k/g and r sounds):

Fire fighter
Nurse
Worker Who Drives Big Trucks
Astronaut
Farmer
Police Officer
Tea Maker (“at one hotel because people don’t have their teapots with them at hotel”)
Cheese Maker

I told him I would totally come visit every day at work if he were a cheese maker. And I would.  I also think that’s the best freaking job I’ve ever heard, and one of only six I haven’t tried.

Yet. ‘Cuz he needs to apprentice in the family cheesemaking business before going to some Continental cheese college on scholarship, right? Right. Gotta go get a sheep, goat, and cow. And we have to move to Pt. Reyes to learn from the Cowgirl Creamery folks.

Does Cowgirl Creamery offer an internship  for three year olds? Is there a cheesemaking  magnet school nearby? Formaggio Kitchen scholarship? CheeseBoard preschool?

You know it’s been a long day

…when you just can’t find the right adult beverage to complement the girl scout cookies your neighbor dropped off right before dinner.

Samoas and… red wine? Samoas and pina colada? Who the hell whips up a pina colada after their kid goes to bed, just to go with cookies? Fine. Where’s the blender?

Tagalogs with…Jack and Coke? I thought Jack and Coke went with everything (well, everything except flax and soy yogurt).  Nope. Tagalogs and champagne? Doesn’t that scream lonely housewife in Connecticut, though? (please say no please say no please say no)

Thin mints and…Kahlua coffee? Vodka Rooiboos? Hot buttered…why do people put butter in their liquor? [I know it’ll get me blog hate mail, but I’m not a thin mint gal. Don’t like ’em. Don’t really like any of the girl scout cookies, laden with toxic nonsense as they are, but, what could be wrong with charity donations for organizations that intentionally excludes members based on  gender and sells baked goods as a symbolic early entry into gender-prescribed home making roles? Sure, sure. I hear you. But there’s coconut in them…]

The only Girl Scout baked goodthat has clear pairings is the shortbread thing, and I just can’t bear to buy shortbread. It’s like asking someone to come by and pour melted butter all over your popcorn “in case” you need it.

Whatever you do…

…do NOT cave in when they ask, after opening stockings Christmas eve, for just one piece of chocolate.

Grandma, you’ll rue the day you put candy in our kid’s Christmakkah sock.

That toddler had a small chocolate Santa (sure, enormous considering his size, but, still, after a full dinner and the whole confection he asked for more, which is a sign it was less than the one ounce of chocolate he gets each Friday). And he has been singing to himself in his bed, at full volume, in a tykebuddy-in-full-winter-garb-lit room, for 78 minutes. And counting. Invented songs, y’all. Not Christmas classics or Summer Lovin’ or something. Total improv genius he is, btw.

I know that theobromine is not caffeine. But I’ve seen the structure and I’ve seen the effects. And that shit is identical in a three year old body. I’ve drugged my child with mass marketed toxic substances. I’m totally gonna be the cool parent in high school. (For those who know me, ba ha hahahahaha ha. That’ll be the day.)

New rule. No chocolate within eight hours of bed. Unless you’re mommy. Then chocolate only if accompanied by liquor. Mmmmm. Hot chocolate with liquor.

Gotta go so I can be loaded while listening to the toddler carolling.

Six-Minute Chocolate and Blackberry Cake

I premeasured during nap time, and Peanut made the following. Lovely, if a bit gooey.

(Original source: Moosewood Cooks at Home, from my dear godmother. Called the Six-Minute Chocolate Cake, it’s quick to mix, doesn’t use lots of bowls, and transforms well into cupcakes.)

Cake:
1.5C unbleached all-purpose flour
.33 C sweetened cocoa (we prefer Scharffen Berger because it’s local, I prefer the 40s-style graffics, and Peanut likes the girl on the label)
1t baking soda
.5t salt
1C evaporated, granulated cane juice, MINUS 2T
1 stick organic unsalted butter, melted but not hot
.25C organic Gravenstein cinnamon apple sauce
1C cold decaf, preferably French press (for the silt)
2t pure vanilla extract
2T vinegar
2 scoops vanilla whey protein powder (optional. if you skip this, add the 2T of sugar back into the recipe)
1.25C frozen organic unsweetened blackberries (optional)

Glaze:
1 small jar organic raspberry preserves
.25C sweetened cocoa powder

Preheat oven to 375F
Sift together flour, cocoa, soda, salt, sugar, and protein into cast-iron dutch oven. In a 2-cup measuring cup, measure and mix together the butter, applesauce, coffee, and vanilla. Pour the liquid ingredients and blackberries into the dutch oven and mix with fork. When the batter is smooth, add the vinegar and stir quickly just until the whitish swirls of acid+base is evenly distributed. Bake for approx. 30 minutes. Set the cake aside to cool.

We are anti-frosting. There, I said it. I don’t like the cloying, pastiness of frosting. Sorry. I know that makes me anathema to most bakers. But we LOVE us some jam. And I wanted chocolate. So for the glaze:
Put jar of preserves into small saucepan. Do not turn on burner, but put saucepan on top of baking stove. Add cocoa and mash together. Let the ambient heat smooth it out and stir again after cake comes out of oven. Put the glaze on a large platter, and upend the cake onto it. Makes a raspbery, blackberry, cocoa upside down chocolate cake for those with no time to make icing look good.