There and Back

I closed the cafe last week. As we started making preparations for the markets, it became clear that it would be difficult to keep staffing it and supplying it with our regular summer routine in gear. To make it work I would have had to hire a stranger, and if I hired a stranger I would have had to count the money every day.

It was a difficult location. Some people make restaurants and coffeeshops work at difficult locations, in fact, there's a successful restaurant right across the street. But a place that works in a difficult location either has to be a destination place or it has to really connect with its neighborhood. I really just wanted to have a place that was convenient for us to run and convenient for customers to support, but it didn't happen that way on either end.

I learned that I'm not cut out for the coffee business. There's an appalling amount of waste in the coffee business. You have to pull shots and throw them away at the beginning of each day to make sure the grinder setting is right for the atmospheric conditions. The coffee coming out of the grinder flies all over the place. The machine is set up to pull two shots at a time, so if someone orders a single shot you just throw away the extra one. Everything about the process has to be perfect, from the size of the grind to the timing and the temperature, and sometimes shots don't come out right and you can't even identify the reason. But if the shot isn't perfect you have to throw it away because this is a coffee kind of town.

My employees who had worked in the coffee industry for a long time took this in stride. I've basically built my farmers' market business around strategies for reducing waste, so I was horrified. We used organic, fair trade coffee but I couldn't help thinking about all the coffeeshops wasting all that coffee that was produced at terrible human and environmental costs.

We did have an opportunity to launch the Humble Feast dinners at the cafe location, and we're going to keep doing them there for now and eventually move them to community centers around town. I've wanted to do these dinners for years, and I'm thrilled to have gotten the endeavor off the ground. Maybe that was the deeper reason why I attempted this quixotic venture.

I keep hearing people expressing their condolences but I've actually felt so much lighter since I closed the place. Today is opening day at the Columbia City Market. This is the nature of business. You try things. Sometimes they work. Sometimes they don't. You brush yourself off and you move on.

Chai

At the cafe we make our own chai. It's easy, in fact, it's so easy that it puzzles me that so many coffeeshop owners buy chai in aseptic containers at the wholesale grocer. Chai makes me think of the medieval spice trade, with aromatic caravans and precious cargo. It's a drink that's both exciting and comforting, spicy and soothing.

All of the ingredients in chai contribute to the fragrant mix, but some of these spices are quite pricey while others cost much less. I always try to create recipes that get the most flavor for the least cost, so I tend to use more of the less expensive ingredients and less of pricier stuff.

Here's my recipe. This makes enough for 5 or six cups, but if you're going to make it, it's worth making enough to share.

2 quarts water
1/2 cup shredded ginger (no need to peel)
8 cinnamon sticks
2 tablespoons whole cloves
2 tablespoons whole decorticated cardamon
2 tablespoons whole black peppercorns
5 black tea bags, paper tags removed
1/2 cup sugar

Add all of the ingredients except the sugar to the water, and bring to a boil. Cook on medium low heat for about a minute, then turn off the heat and add the sugar. Strain and serve, along with the milk or milk substitute of your choice.

Adjust the quantities of any of the ingredients to suit your taste. The pepper and the ginger make it spicier, and you may prefer it sweeter or less caffeinated.

Enjoy!

Turnips and Rutabagas (Oh my!)

What's the difference between a turnip and a rutabaga? It's a question that has stumped folks for generations. They're both fleshy winter root vegetables, and they're often used together. I picked the particular specimens in the above picture to highlight the difference, but it's not always so obvious. (By the way, the one on the left is a turnip and the one on the right is a rutabaga.)

I'll start with the obvious. Rutabagas have thicker skins. You want to peel them more often than turnips, although you can get away with not peeling them, especially if they're on the small side. Rutabagas tend to be sweeter and turnips can be a bit bitter, although sometimes you find turnips that are every bit as sweet as rutabagas. Turnips have white flesh that gets almost translucent when you cook them, while rutabaga flesh is yellower. Turnips are ancient vegetables, while rutabagas were first bred as recently as the 18th century by crossing turnips and cabbages. So turnips and rutabagas are cousins.

The sweet, hairy Gilfeather turnip was bred by a native of southern Vermont who zealously trimmed the roots off his creations before he sold them so nobody else could propagate them. The variety has made it into Slow Food's venerable Ark of Taste, and the town of Wardsboro Vermont holds a Gilfeather Turnip Festival each year. As with most agricultural varieties, somebody else eventually managed to get their hands on some seeds, and now you find Gilfeathers everywhere from New York's Green Markets to Seattle farmers' markets. Only they're called "Gilfeather rutabagas" everywhere except in their home state.

I love the word "rutabaga." Sometimes I cook them at the markets just so that I can say it over and over when people ask what's in the veggie mix.

Humble Feast

On February 28 we'll be holding our first ever Humble Feast buffet dinner at the cafe. Here's the menu:

Chicken Stew with Dumplings

Lentil Shepherd's Pie

Braised Winter Greens

Maple Roasted Butternut Squash

Apple Strudel

We're going to hold the event monthly, on the last Monday of each month. Cost is $12 per person, or $10 if you prepay.

I chose the name "Humble Feast" to set the event apart from those expensive gala local foods dinners that cost $75 a head. Eating locally should be an affordable, day to day option even if it costs more than processed food. There are so many terrific meals that don't have to bust your budget, and you don't have to be a celebrity chef to prepare them.

We're taking reservations at cafe@pattypangrill.com. Looking forward to seeing y'all there.

Book Miles

I'm thrilled to have just signed on to print some actual copies of Cavemen, Monks and Slow Food: A History of Eating Well on the Espresso book machine at Third Place Books, one of my all time favorite bookstores.

Here's how it works: they do design and layout for a very fair fee, and then they print copies of the book on demand. There's no minimum order, in fact, there isn't even a price break for ordering in quantity because they'd rather maintain an ongoing working relationship than have you order too many books and then never come back. I love this kind of business model.

I've published two books with conventional publishers. One is in Tennessee, and they have the books printed in Canada. The other is in California, and they have them printed in China. When I order copies of either book, they also have to be shipped from the publisher in Tennessee or California to my doorstep in Seattle.

This press is six miles from my house. It's part of a commons where I can also shop for books, visit the library and get a cup of coffee while I pick up my books. As someone who is passionate about building local economies, I find this pretty exciting.

The Hybrid, Transitional Food System

I went to hear Mark Winne speak last night. He's a hero of mine, having done more than anyone I know of to bring good good to underserved communities. He spoke of two food systems: the organic, local, progressive food system which makes up roughly ten percent of our food economy, and the industrialized food system behind the other ninety percent. It got me thinking again of my own version of food justice, and the most effective way to approach the divide.

Between the two extremes of local, artisan foods and mass produced garbage there's a spectrum of shades of gray that provide reasonably healthy, sustainable, affordable options. I'm talking about most of the items in a conventional grocery store that only have one or two ingredients, all of them pronounceable. Beans, grains, vegetables, and the better meat and dairy products all fall into this category. It's great to get organic beans and grains, but even when they're not organic they're still much better for you than a Big Mac.

It saddens me that these options are so often overlooked in discussions of good food, healthy eating and food justice. You don't have to use premium ingredients in order to cook from scratch and make meals that are better for you in every way than fast food and frozen dinners. So much of the media attention is taken up profiling folks who make extreme gestures like trying to eat only local foods or not entering a grocery store for a year.

My own food heroes are the folks who quietly and sensibly operate in this middle ground, building a hybrid, transitional food system.

Winter in Ballard

I'm continually amazed by the Ballard Farmers' Market over the winter. It continues to amaze me even though I've been vending there for 8 winters. These guys in the photo are queued up to buy salmon right as the market is opening. (Note the guy in the shorts. It's January!)

For my business this market peaked during the 2008 summer season, as far as summers go, but each winter is still better than the winter before. In fact, a typical winter day at this market is still better than a typical summer day at any other event.

I wish they could clone the magic here and import it to other neighborhoods, like Phinney Ridge. But then it wouldn't be nearly as magical.