Xixi No Banho

Water has been very much on my mind lately with the recent dry spell. My water bill was up $100 after a month of gardening. I'd been standing outside with the hose and waving it around, so now I'm taking a more targeted approach with the watering can.

I've come across a few interesting tidbits lately about reducing water use. PETA is travelling around with a campaign of nude beauties showering in public to call attention to their claim that the amount of water that goes into producing one pound of beef is the same amount that is used for six months of showers.

The multinational snack food conglomerate Kraft announced this week that they've implemented water saving measures over the past few years that have enabled them to save 3 billion gallons of water. That's 21 percent of their water use, which means they still used 15 billion gallons, but that's another story.

I was particularly taken by a Brazilian campaign to encourage folks to pee in the shower. It's sanitary, and it saves water! Check out this educational clip. Spread the word!

Salsa Season

Unfortunately internet smell-o-vision has not yet been invented (as far as I know,) but if it had, this picture would be accompanied by my favorite smell in the world: the aroma of roasting chiles.

This past Sunday my crew got back from the Ballard Market with a big bag of super-ripe heirloom tomatoes from a farmer who likes to trade me tomatoes for salsa. I roasted them, along with some locally grown chiles, and the smells and tastes filled me with joy. It struck me that this was collaboration at its finest: her skills went into producing the tastiest possible tomatoes, and mine went into transforming them (at the risk of being immodest) into a very fine salsa.

Julie and Julia

1. I see maybe two or three films a year at the movie theater, but I rushed right out to see this one. Meryl was magnificent as Julia, but that was already obvious from the opening seconds of the TV trailer.
   
   As for the rest of the movie: it seems a little too easy to heap criticism on a character based on a real person who, if the story has any factual basis, is deeply insecure and sensitive to criticism. I haven't read Julie Powell's book, but I was particularly bored and irritated by her trials and tribulations as she struggles with a daunting, artificial self-imposed regimen. I had the same difficulty with the books "Plenty," and "Animal, Vegetable and Miracle." I understand having a project or a focus, but I just can't get terribly excited about the travails of someone who has imposed unreasonable constraints on themselves. Why wasn't it enough to simply cook every recipe in "Mastering the Art of French Cooking," or even almost every recipe? Why did she need to kill herself to get it done in one short year?

Aside from any differences in the quality of the acting, I think that was the reason the Julia scenes were so much more alive for me than the Julie sequences. Julia's struggle was organic, and the grace with which she faced it was genuine and engaging.

Zucchini Moratorium

My kitchen staff has instructed me not to bring any more zucchini back from the markets (at least for now.) But I can't help myself. Farmers I like, who I've been working with for a very long time, keep bringing me beautiful zucchini. So I'm trying to at least be very selective about who I'm buying it from. On the bright side, we're developing some better systems for dating incoming produce and keeping track of stock.

My purchasing strategy has always been to buy what's available, trust that it will somehow be enough, and trust that we're somehow going to go through it all. My philosophy is certainly being challenged here, but I'm trying to stick with it as much as possible. One farmer told me that, with the weather being so dry, there isn't going to be a whole lot of zucchini in a week or two. We'll see.

The Beet Haters

I meet them nearly every day at the markets. Perfectly normal seeming people who can't stand the sight (or taste) of a beet. Even the president put his foot down and refused to allow them in the White House garden.

What is it about this harmless vegetable that incites such strong emotions? (To be fair, I have to mention that there are at least as many people who are positively thrilled to see them cooking on the grill.)

Personally, I can't imagine hating a vegetable so much that I'd refuse to let it be planted in my garden, especially if I wasn't even relying on that garden for sustenance. I do find zucchini insipid, but I'll eat it if it's put in front of me, I'd just rather be eating something else.

Speaking of Chocolate...

I was shopping at Central Market the other day and was excited to find someone sampling this brand of chocolate that I'd seen on the shelf and nearly bought on several occasions. I'd hesitated because it was pricey, because it contained vanilla (sometimes a bad sign) and because it was organic: I haven't liked much of the organic chocolate I've tried. (Vivani is a noteworthy exception.)

I tried the 70% bar and it was tasty. It was also pretty gritty, but I got the sense that the grittiness was deliberate, so I asked about it. It turns out they grind the chocolate using traditional grinding stones, so it doesn't get as smooth as chocolate processed with modern equipment.

It was interesting to stumble across this demo so soon after reading "The Chocolate Connoisseur". In that book Chloe Doutre-Roussel talks about enjoying traditional Mexican chocolate because it reminded her of the stuff she grew up with, even though she thought that most of it wasn't particularly good. I gathered from Taza's website that the company had been founded in 2006, after the book was published, and I think their chocolate falls into an entirely different category. Like Claudio Corallo, it seems that the proprietors have gone back to the fundamental building blocks in order to develop something new, yet fiercely true to the ideal of drawing out the essence of the bean. I think (hope) that Chloe would approve.

The Chocolate Connoisseur

1. This week I read through this lovely little book by Chloe Doutre-Roussel, who I've heard referred to on various occasions as the world's foremost expert on chocolate. She eats a pound a day--only the good stuff--but saves the early morning hours for tasting new, unfamiliar varieties, so she can do so before her taste buds have been clouded by other flavors.

As something of a culinary populist, I had to get past the word "connoisseur" in the title. I'm probably not going to change my chocolate tasting habits and follow the procedures outlined in the book, but I have to admit that I was pleased to learn that she highly recommends my all time favorite variety, Michel Cluizel's Mangaro.

Despite whatever ambivalence I may have had about the idea of learning to be an "expert," as someone who dearly loves chocolate, I found it delightful to read through several hundred pages written by someone who's dedicated her life to this wonderful food.