My apologies for having been out of action for so long. I knew that with things heating up at my job, November would be a difficult month, but I didn’t realize it would be that difficult. It was easier than last year in one respect: In 2006 my Thanksgiving week featured a case of food poisoning on Monday, recovery on Tuesday, and the replacement of our gas stove on the Wednesday—except for the connection of the new stove to our gas supply, which despite being scheduled for Wednesday evening didn’t actually happen until Friday. As you can imagine, that made it (ahem) challenging to host our annual vegetarian Thanksgiving party. This year we were more fortunate. No food poisoning, a fully functioning stove, and a truly delicious vegetarian celebration.
But we are not here to talk about good food. We are here to talk about things like tuna and pineapple in mayonnaise. As I write up this recipe I feel like I’m making a sudden change of plan. In the Dole pineapple cookbook in which this recipe appears, The Thatched Kitchen, Tuna Polynesian follows two molded salads and appears opposite a large photo of a rather pretty mold, “Ruby Borscht Salad.” (I have never had borscht, but for a negative view see this Bateman365 animation; note there is adult language.) Anyway, because of this context I have been laboring under the impression that Tuna Polynesian is a molded salad, and so I was relieved to see that it is not. To my mind, tuna and pineapple in mayonnaise is just a tad less spectacularly bad than tuna and pineapple in gelatin. My distaste comes from the fact that I really, really hate canned tuna. I like tuna in sushi; I’m not sure why I’m so picky about canned tuna. Maybe because when you grow up in Indiana you so often encounter it in gloppy mayonnaise mixtures or in starchy baked casseroles, which don’t do the stuff justice. Assuming there is justice to be done.
Also, the idea of using the pineapple syrup to rehydrate the dried onion makes me cringe.
Tuna Polynesian
1 can (1 lb. 4 oz) Dole Pineapple Chunks
2 cans (7 oz. ea.) solid packed tuna
1 cup diagonally sliced celery
1 tablespoon instant minced onion
¼ cup mayonnaise
¼ cup dairy sour cream
1 teaspoon curry powder
1 teaspoon seasoned salt
crisp salad greens
Drain pineapple, reserving 2 tablespoons syrup. Drain tuna well. Chunk tuna; combine with pineapple in a deep bowl. Add celery. Allow onions to stand in reserved pineapple syrup until rehydrated. Blend mayonnaise, sour cream, curry powder and seasoned salt. Stir in onion. Pour over tuna tossing to combine. Spoon onto crisp salad greens to serve. Makes 4 to 6 servings.
From The Thatched Kitchen: Harvest & Holiday Cookbook. Honolulu: Castle & Cooke, 1972.
Sunday, December 2, 2007
Thursday, November 29, 2007
When You Can’t Have Food
My father died of colon cancer in 1999. Because of this, I am considered to have a slightly increased risk of developing colon cancer myself, and since I turned 40 this year I became eligible for my first screening colonoscopy. (Those of you who do not have first-degree relatives who developed colon cancer can generally wait until you’re 50.) I scheduled the test for today, knowing that I would be on vacation all week and would be better able to deal with the inconveniences of the exam. Well, the exam itself is not difficult at all, since you're unconscious for it; it’s the preparations that are unpleasant and inconvenient. Your colon needs to be empty, which for most American is not the usual state of affairs. So after a light breakfast yesterday morning I was restricted to clear liquids, with no dairy products, nothing red, and of course no alcohol.
I knew that this might be a challenge for me. As many of you do, I like to eat solid food. I can get very cranky if I go too long without eating something. A stomach full of liquid is not the same as a stomach full of lunch. And while I am disciplined enough to stick to such a regimen when it’s prescribed, I am not quite disciplined enough to keep a good attitude about it without some prompting. I knew I was going to need a strong dose of perspective, and luckily the opportunity presented itself: My New York officemates had voted to donate our 2007 charitable contribution to the Yorkville Common Pantry, and to volunteer for a few hours when we brought the check over, and our volunteer shift was scheduled for yesterday afternoon.
YCP offers a number of services to its community. It gives weekly grocery donations to members who live within a particular radius of the pantry, serves five breakfasts and three dinners per week to anyone who shows up, offers emergency food aid to those who need it, and even has showers available. And the need is great—and growing. According to a recent New York Times article, demand for aid at local food pantries and soup kitchens has jumped 20 percent while federal resources are dwindling. The federal government has cut back on its subsidy purchases, reducing the amount available for donation to the needy. And while various versions of the farm bill propose increases in aid, the bill itself is stalled in Congress.
People who need food aid don’t have time for political negotiations. They need to feed their kids now. Our company’s check was a drop in the bucket, which we knew beforehand, and that was one reason we also wanted to volunteer. We arrived in the early afternoon, just in time to help with the last of the dinner preparations: dishing up applesauce to be handed out as dessert. That done, we were brought to the pantry room, a small warehouse of shelves laden with donated and purchased non-perishable foods, where we assembled grocery bags for the week’s pantry distributions. Talk about a drop in the bucket: A YCP constituent with a family of 5-7 people receives one 46-ounce can of juice, 4 cans of vegetables, 2 cans of chicken, 3 cans of soup, 1 box of cereal, 2 pounds of rice, 1 pound of pasta, 1 pound of dry beans, 2 bags of bagels, plus fresh produce (which is packed separately right before distribution since it’s perishable). That’s not exactly three squares. It’s very sobering to look at the bags. As I walked among the shelves pulling cans, I could see that my relative hunger was a tiny, tiny inconvenience. I could go home and have broth and tea. Within 24 hours I’d be able to eat real food, food that I could choose for myself, with real spices, real variety. I felt grateful for my good fortune, and embarrassed that there are so many who are not so lucky.
A lot of my co-workers felt the same way. I didn’t mention to them that I was going home to drink chicken broth and take laxatives. I didn’t really want to discuss it, not because I have any delicacy about sharing with them but because I didn’t think it was a fit subject for a food pantry. So when we parted ways on the subway later I just smiled and headed home to resume my colonoscopy prep. Lucky me: At 6 I took two ordinary laxative tablets. Then at 8 I took a first dose of Fleet Phospho-Soda, a saline laxative that tastes incredibly nasty—like soured burnt salt, or perhaps like a hyper-concentrated and non-carbonated version of Coca-Cola’s Beverly, an Italian bitter aperitif (aptly described in this McSweeney’s food review—scroll way down to find it). As instructed, I followed this with three glasses of water, which were not quite sufficient to take away the taste, let alone the knowledge that I’d get to do it again at midnight. But the stuff is effective, and by morning I was definitely clean as a whistle and ready for the doctor.
My appointment was for 9:30, and not much more than an hour later I was awake again, dressed, and comforted by the knowledge that everything looked good—no polyps, no other abnormalities. Barring the development of any symptoms, I don’t have to do this again for five years, which is another reason to be incredibly grateful. And so I headed out for breakfast, and thought, I’m lucky to be able to do this. A lot of people can’t.
To find out more about food banks in your area and how you can help, visit America’s Second Harvest.
I knew that this might be a challenge for me. As many of you do, I like to eat solid food. I can get very cranky if I go too long without eating something. A stomach full of liquid is not the same as a stomach full of lunch. And while I am disciplined enough to stick to such a regimen when it’s prescribed, I am not quite disciplined enough to keep a good attitude about it without some prompting. I knew I was going to need a strong dose of perspective, and luckily the opportunity presented itself: My New York officemates had voted to donate our 2007 charitable contribution to the Yorkville Common Pantry, and to volunteer for a few hours when we brought the check over, and our volunteer shift was scheduled for yesterday afternoon.
YCP offers a number of services to its community. It gives weekly grocery donations to members who live within a particular radius of the pantry, serves five breakfasts and three dinners per week to anyone who shows up, offers emergency food aid to those who need it, and even has showers available. And the need is great—and growing. According to a recent New York Times article, demand for aid at local food pantries and soup kitchens has jumped 20 percent while federal resources are dwindling. The federal government has cut back on its subsidy purchases, reducing the amount available for donation to the needy. And while various versions of the farm bill propose increases in aid, the bill itself is stalled in Congress.
People who need food aid don’t have time for political negotiations. They need to feed their kids now. Our company’s check was a drop in the bucket, which we knew beforehand, and that was one reason we also wanted to volunteer. We arrived in the early afternoon, just in time to help with the last of the dinner preparations: dishing up applesauce to be handed out as dessert. That done, we were brought to the pantry room, a small warehouse of shelves laden with donated and purchased non-perishable foods, where we assembled grocery bags for the week’s pantry distributions. Talk about a drop in the bucket: A YCP constituent with a family of 5-7 people receives one 46-ounce can of juice, 4 cans of vegetables, 2 cans of chicken, 3 cans of soup, 1 box of cereal, 2 pounds of rice, 1 pound of pasta, 1 pound of dry beans, 2 bags of bagels, plus fresh produce (which is packed separately right before distribution since it’s perishable). That’s not exactly three squares. It’s very sobering to look at the bags. As I walked among the shelves pulling cans, I could see that my relative hunger was a tiny, tiny inconvenience. I could go home and have broth and tea. Within 24 hours I’d be able to eat real food, food that I could choose for myself, with real spices, real variety. I felt grateful for my good fortune, and embarrassed that there are so many who are not so lucky.
A lot of my co-workers felt the same way. I didn’t mention to them that I was going home to drink chicken broth and take laxatives. I didn’t really want to discuss it, not because I have any delicacy about sharing with them but because I didn’t think it was a fit subject for a food pantry. So when we parted ways on the subway later I just smiled and headed home to resume my colonoscopy prep. Lucky me: At 6 I took two ordinary laxative tablets. Then at 8 I took a first dose of Fleet Phospho-Soda, a saline laxative that tastes incredibly nasty—like soured burnt salt, or perhaps like a hyper-concentrated and non-carbonated version of Coca-Cola’s Beverly, an Italian bitter aperitif (aptly described in this McSweeney’s food review—scroll way down to find it). As instructed, I followed this with three glasses of water, which were not quite sufficient to take away the taste, let alone the knowledge that I’d get to do it again at midnight. But the stuff is effective, and by morning I was definitely clean as a whistle and ready for the doctor.
My appointment was for 9:30, and not much more than an hour later I was awake again, dressed, and comforted by the knowledge that everything looked good—no polyps, no other abnormalities. Barring the development of any symptoms, I don’t have to do this again for five years, which is another reason to be incredibly grateful. And so I headed out for breakfast, and thought, I’m lucky to be able to do this. A lot of people can’t.
To find out more about food banks in your area and how you can help, visit America’s Second Harvest.
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Almost Ready for the Big Day
By which personally I mean I have a great deal more shopping, cleaning and cooking to do before tomorrow's third annual vegetarian Thanksgiving feast at the RotD Compound, but at least I am now on vacation through next week and so have a shot at accomplishing what I need to, instead of greeting our guests with a grimy living room and the menu for the nearest Indian takeout place.
In honor of tomorrow's holiday, here's a reminder not to deep-fry your turkey indoors. It's a major fire hazard. Deep-frying is for outdoors, preferably with a considerable buffer zone and possibly a fireproof bunker a la Mythbusters. If you need convincing, click through on the Gothamist story to the Underwriters Laboratories site and watch the video, which demonstrates that deep-frying a turkey indoors will ensure a memorable holiday, as in "In memory of Dad" and "Remember the year the house burned down and we had to go to a shelter for Thanksgiving dinner?"
In honor of tomorrow's holiday, here's a reminder not to deep-fry your turkey indoors. It's a major fire hazard. Deep-frying is for outdoors, preferably with a considerable buffer zone and possibly a fireproof bunker a la Mythbusters. If you need convincing, click through on the Gothamist story to the Underwriters Laboratories site and watch the video, which demonstrates that deep-frying a turkey indoors will ensure a memorable holiday, as in "In memory of Dad" and "Remember the year the house burned down and we had to go to a shelter for Thanksgiving dinner?"
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Hello. stranger
Yes, I know, I'm a terrible blogger, and I think I'm going to be crazy busy through Thanksgiving Day, so I can't promise real updates before then.
But, hey, Thanksgiving. Anyone have any horror stories?
My senior year of college four of us stuck around in our rented house and made a pretty good feast. Everything was really good except the sweet potatoes; the two of us who were on sweet potato detail had never prepared them before, and didn't really know what we were doing. I'm pretty sure we didn't cook them long enough before attempting to mash them for serving en casserole; then we realized we had nothing to mash with except a blender. Gamely we gave it a try. Undercooked sweet potato granita, anyone? The consistency was simply awful, and the taste not good enough to make up for it (failure to get appropriate spices at the store, anyone?). The crowning insult: Upon dissassembling the blender for cleaning we found the embossed legend "Not to be used for mashing potatoes." Oh, NOW you tell us. Fortunately we had plenty of other good food, and were able to laugh at the sweet potatoes and only feel a little bad about their going to waste.
Anyone else? C'mon, share.
And if I don't get back to you with a new post before then, happy Thanksgiving!
But, hey, Thanksgiving. Anyone have any horror stories?
My senior year of college four of us stuck around in our rented house and made a pretty good feast. Everything was really good except the sweet potatoes; the two of us who were on sweet potato detail had never prepared them before, and didn't really know what we were doing. I'm pretty sure we didn't cook them long enough before attempting to mash them for serving en casserole; then we realized we had nothing to mash with except a blender. Gamely we gave it a try. Undercooked sweet potato granita, anyone? The consistency was simply awful, and the taste not good enough to make up for it (failure to get appropriate spices at the store, anyone?). The crowning insult: Upon dissassembling the blender for cleaning we found the embossed legend "Not to be used for mashing potatoes." Oh, NOW you tell us. Fortunately we had plenty of other good food, and were able to laugh at the sweet potatoes and only feel a little bad about their going to waste.
Anyone else? C'mon, share.
And if I don't get back to you with a new post before then, happy Thanksgiving!
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Jane Brody Is a Genius
Today's New York Times features a column by Jane Brody, "My Diet Strategy? Controlled Indulgence" (registration required, I think). She explains that she manages her weight without fad diets, deprivation or guilt, and enjoys favored treats such as ice cream almost daily. Real ice cream: "Most are the slow-churned reduced-fat flavors, and some are frozen yogurt. But none are fat free or sugar free, which to me tastes ersatz." The control comes in with portion sizes: No more than a few tablespoons or the recommended half-cup serving. "And I made a rule for myself. If I start eating more than that half cup, all the ice cream has to go. Because I would rather have it around when I want it, I stick to the half cup."
Brody then goes on to explain her strategy for other dining occasions: review all the offerings at buffets and choose only the items you think you'll really want, limit dressings, don't bother with foods that don't taste all that good, favor salads and vegetables first before the more caloric dishes. But if something is truly delicious, she says, enjoy it--in moderation. She explains too how she and her husband managed to raise children with moderate appetites for sweets and snacks: Don't keep less-nutritious foods handy as a rule, but don't forbid them when they're available otherwise (such as at friends' houses), and allow regular treats. Making such foods rare but not forbidden made them less interesting, and made the whole family less prone to overindulgence.
"Deprivation feeds desire and can lead to overindulgence at the first opportunity," she notes. I think: Is it any wonder that Americans privilege overindulgence when the language of marketing is all about deprivation? Advertising succeeds when it convinces people that they need something they didn't know they needed. Need stems from lack or deprivation; it's much easier to sell a product by putting it forward as the solution to a problem than to say "This looks like fun, would you like some?" The answer to that may so easily be "No, thank you, not right now." But if you're suddenly threatened with a crisis, a need, a problem to be solved, you will more eagerly accept the solution. And our consumer society has learned well that solutions are found through consumption: A pill, a sports car, the single woman's diamond ring, all are offered as products that assuage a physical or emotional need.
Jane Brody knows she doesn't need the ice cream. But she likes it. So she enjoys it fully, while keeping in mind that if the numbers on the scale creep up she needs to cut back for a while. She doesn't need to replace it with an imitation to keep up a sense of deserved indulgence; substitutions are not satisfying, so she does without for a while, knowing that she is not saying "no" to an emotional desire but saying "yes" to health and enjoyment.
The food marketing culture tries to get us to buy by threatening us with "no," with deprivation. Scarcity mentality makes us grasping, anxious; we want to stock up, to hoard. We can counter this by saying "yes" to good taste, to real food. Blogger Shauna James Ahern, in her blog and her new book "Gluten-Free Girl," is one of the most inspiring people I've seen leading the charge to say yes to life. (Disclaimer: I went to college with Shauna but we haven't been in touch in years.) Shauna has celiac disease, but she doesn't like to focus on the idea of disease. She knows that wheat gluten makes her ill--nobody knows better than she does how ill--but rather than framing her condition as deprivation, she says yes to the immense number of other foods she can enjoy. And enjoy them she does, with her fullest vigor and being. No imitations, no "recipe clones," just savoring of real foods and their real flavors.
That's where salvation lies.
Brody then goes on to explain her strategy for other dining occasions: review all the offerings at buffets and choose only the items you think you'll really want, limit dressings, don't bother with foods that don't taste all that good, favor salads and vegetables first before the more caloric dishes. But if something is truly delicious, she says, enjoy it--in moderation. She explains too how she and her husband managed to raise children with moderate appetites for sweets and snacks: Don't keep less-nutritious foods handy as a rule, but don't forbid them when they're available otherwise (such as at friends' houses), and allow regular treats. Making such foods rare but not forbidden made them less interesting, and made the whole family less prone to overindulgence.
"Deprivation feeds desire and can lead to overindulgence at the first opportunity," she notes. I think: Is it any wonder that Americans privilege overindulgence when the language of marketing is all about deprivation? Advertising succeeds when it convinces people that they need something they didn't know they needed. Need stems from lack or deprivation; it's much easier to sell a product by putting it forward as the solution to a problem than to say "This looks like fun, would you like some?" The answer to that may so easily be "No, thank you, not right now." But if you're suddenly threatened with a crisis, a need, a problem to be solved, you will more eagerly accept the solution. And our consumer society has learned well that solutions are found through consumption: A pill, a sports car, the single woman's diamond ring, all are offered as products that assuage a physical or emotional need.
Jane Brody knows she doesn't need the ice cream. But she likes it. So she enjoys it fully, while keeping in mind that if the numbers on the scale creep up she needs to cut back for a while. She doesn't need to replace it with an imitation to keep up a sense of deserved indulgence; substitutions are not satisfying, so she does without for a while, knowing that she is not saying "no" to an emotional desire but saying "yes" to health and enjoyment.
The food marketing culture tries to get us to buy by threatening us with "no," with deprivation. Scarcity mentality makes us grasping, anxious; we want to stock up, to hoard. We can counter this by saying "yes" to good taste, to real food. Blogger Shauna James Ahern, in her blog and her new book "Gluten-Free Girl," is one of the most inspiring people I've seen leading the charge to say yes to life. (Disclaimer: I went to college with Shauna but we haven't been in touch in years.) Shauna has celiac disease, but she doesn't like to focus on the idea of disease. She knows that wheat gluten makes her ill--nobody knows better than she does how ill--but rather than framing her condition as deprivation, she says yes to the immense number of other foods she can enjoy. And enjoy them she does, with her fullest vigor and being. No imitations, no "recipe clones," just savoring of real foods and their real flavors.
That's where salvation lies.
Monday, October 22, 2007
I have not abandoned the blog
But life and work have been very busy, too much so for me to have had time to compose posts. I will be doing some updates within the next week, though, I promise.
Topics may include these:
So hang in there. I have by no means exhausted the depths of the damnation.
Topics may include these:
- My recent trip to Atlanta, which featured hotel food and the World of Coca-Cola
- My recent trip up the Hudson Valley to Saugerties and Rhinebeck, NY, and my dilemma: If I tell you about our super-favorite B&B will people overrun it and exhaust the proprietors? Because if we can't get a reservation for next year's festival I will NOT be amused
- Some thoughts about what a pain in the ass it is to try to eat reasonably when you have NO TIME AT ALL to cook
- And assorted whining
So hang in there. I have by no means exhausted the depths of the damnation.
Monday, October 1, 2007
Bits and Pieces
A few miscellaneous items:
Oh, good, as long as that's clear
Faithful reader Luann sent me this picture of a gummy-bear package. Where does your snack food originate?
Got that? OK.
Happiness is a Kraft Singles grilled cheese sandwich
Today's New York Times spotlights a new ad campaign for Kraft Singles. The "have a happy sandwich" campaign will feature former foes bonding over the gooey toasted cheese concoction. The creative centerpiece of the campaign is a MySpace contest for video clips that celebrate the grilled cheese sandwich. The goal, of course, is to increase sales of Kraft Singles.
The campaign may succeed as long as a) Nobody figures out that you can make a grilled cheese sandwich more cheaply by using less-expensive block Cheddar and a sharp knife, b) Nobody associates the tagline "happy sandwich" with the slang term "happy finish" (describing the, uh, payoff in certain paid massage services) and c) Nobody uses the MySpace contest to create snarky satires (after the fashion of the 2006 GM "viral ad" program in which participants hijacked the video clips and forum to create anti-SUV videos).
But what about the toy surprise?
The NYT online blog section included this story noting that organic cereals may be lower in certain vitamins than mainstream children's cereal brands. The blog entry opened "Kids who go organic for breakfast may be missing out on their vitamins," and then went on to explain that while cereals such as Frosted Flakes are fortified with a wide variety of key vitamins, some organic or naturally produced cereals are not (but some are). The entry notes, "If your organic cereal is low on vitamins, it doesn’t mean you have to give it up. But it’s probably a good idea to give your child a multivitamin in the morning as well, notes Dr. Susan Roberts, a nutritionist at Tufts University and co-author of Feeding Your Child for Lifelong Health."
Commenters spat out their porridge and attacked the blog for implying that high-sugar cereals are more inherently nutritious than organic varieties. "How ’bout if we just have our kids eat fresh fruits and vegetables?" asked one. "Looks like the major vitamins added to our kids’ breakfast are B and S," said another. Additional comments speculated about safety issues (contaminants in fortifying vitamin sprays, pesticides in conventionally produced grains), and others took delight in noting that the organics market is just as much a market as any other.
Oh, good, as long as that's clear
Faithful reader Luann sent me this picture of a gummy-bear package. Where does your snack food originate?
Got that? OK.
Happiness is a Kraft Singles grilled cheese sandwich
Today's New York Times spotlights a new ad campaign for Kraft Singles. The "have a happy sandwich" campaign will feature former foes bonding over the gooey toasted cheese concoction. The creative centerpiece of the campaign is a MySpace contest for video clips that celebrate the grilled cheese sandwich. The goal, of course, is to increase sales of Kraft Singles.
The campaign may succeed as long as a) Nobody figures out that you can make a grilled cheese sandwich more cheaply by using less-expensive block Cheddar and a sharp knife, b) Nobody associates the tagline "happy sandwich" with the slang term "happy finish" (describing the, uh, payoff in certain paid massage services) and c) Nobody uses the MySpace contest to create snarky satires (after the fashion of the 2006 GM "viral ad" program in which participants hijacked the video clips and forum to create anti-SUV videos).
But what about the toy surprise?
The NYT online blog section included this story noting that organic cereals may be lower in certain vitamins than mainstream children's cereal brands. The blog entry opened "Kids who go organic for breakfast may be missing out on their vitamins," and then went on to explain that while cereals such as Frosted Flakes are fortified with a wide variety of key vitamins, some organic or naturally produced cereals are not (but some are). The entry notes, "If your organic cereal is low on vitamins, it doesn’t mean you have to give it up. But it’s probably a good idea to give your child a multivitamin in the morning as well, notes Dr. Susan Roberts, a nutritionist at Tufts University and co-author of Feeding Your Child for Lifelong Health."
Commenters spat out their porridge and attacked the blog for implying that high-sugar cereals are more inherently nutritious than organic varieties. "How ’bout if we just have our kids eat fresh fruits and vegetables?" asked one. "Looks like the major vitamins added to our kids’ breakfast are B and S," said another. Additional comments speculated about safety issues (contaminants in fortifying vitamin sprays, pesticides in conventionally produced grains), and others took delight in noting that the organics market is just as much a market as any other.
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