Corn Conundrum

This week I had two customers ask me within a day of each other whether I use organic corn in my tamales. I don't, and it's safe to assume these days that most inorganic corn is genetically modified. I'm surprised that people don't ask more often, in fact, I can't remember anyone asking for years.

I started making and selling tamales 12 years ago, before genetically modified foods were on our collective radar screen. From time to time I experiment with organic products that are sold and labelled as "masa," but the tamales have never turned out right. Either the flour is too finely ground, or it doesn't set in the same way as the stuff I've always used. I'd happily pay more for organic masa that makes great tamales, but I haven't been able to find any.

I did an internet search recently looking for organic masa, and found some heroic stories of people grinding their own organic corn. That's not an option for my company.

I buy my masa in 50 lb. bags from a Mexican distributor in White Center. I haven't discussed this issue with them because I don't feel that it's my place to tell them what kind of corn they should use.

I'm certainly disturbed by the way genetically modified foods have infiltrated the food supply, but I don't vet every food I eat to make sure it doesn't contain them. Once you start thinking about it, every industrial product that contains corn or soy probably has genetically modified ingredients. Mainstream meat and dairy products come from animals that have probably been eating genetically modified foods. An organic farmer overheard one of the exchanges I had with a customer about the issue, and she pointed out that the compostable cups that everyone thinks are so great probably come from genetically modified crops as well.

Making a product and selling it to the public involves a different level of responsibility than choosing what to put in my own body. I've been in denial about the fact that this product is not consistent with my values, and I've been able to continue in this mode because so few people have taken me to task about it.

So after hearing from the second customer I did what I always do when I face a moral dilemma in the course of running my business: I discussed it openly with my employees. They weren't even aware of the issue, so it was an opportunity to explain. Now I'm writing this post, because I want to be open about it. I'll keep looking for a better product. But I probably won't stop making tamales and selling them, even if I don't find a better alternative. There are so many things about the food system that aren't the way I want them to be. We each pick our battles and struggle with our own contradictions.

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.