I have a theory that the more often one cooks, the easier it is for one to cook more often. I know from experience that this is true for me. Back when I worked at night in the restaurant business, I loved to cook at home on my nights off. Being a busy student and worker, my refrigerator was always bare so I’d pore over cookbooks, decide what to make, then head to the store (or stores) for the ingredients. Every time I cooked, I’d have to start from scratch with just the right spices, herbs, grains, cheeses, etc. Then I’d spend the entire afternoon cooking…and about 20 minutes eating. I enjoyed it, but this was no way to actually feed myself on a regular basis.

Now I have a different approach to cooking. I cook more seasonally, inspired by the market, rather than a cookbook, and I cook regularly. This means I always have food to eat or the remnants of a meal on which I can build a new meal. It’s so much more pleasurable to be able to feed myself (and sometimes unexpected guests) with healthy whole foods without any fuss.

Many of us end up in front of the prepared foods counter at the grocery store more often than we’d like, but we also know that if we only cooked more we’d save money, we’d know exactly what’s in our food, and we’d probably consume fewer unhealthy calories and more healthier ones. The challenge is fitting cooking into our busy modern lives, but it’s a worthy challenge. When I can feed myself, even on the busiest of days, I feel a sense of triumph in the midst of the chaos that sometimes overtakes my life.

Since we can’t live on fresh vegetables alone, today we’re going to talk Pantry, Paraphernalia, and Planning. You’ll see how a wide variety of foods on hand, the proper kitchen tools, and a little advance thought can turn your kitchen into the most important room in your home.

Pantry Basics

Your personal pantry will depend on taste, dietary needs and cooking habits, but here’s a good start for developing a pantry full of real food.

Basic Oils:

1 refined oil for high heat cooking like stir-frying: peanut, avocado, or safflower are good choices

1 good quality extra virgin olive oil

1 unrefined oil for general use in dressings and low heat cooking: safflower or sunflower are good choices

Optional: 1 nut oil for special salads: walnut or hazelnut oils are good options (must be refrigerated after opening as they go rancid quickly)

Toasted sesame oil for cooking with Asian flavors

Basic Vinegars:

Good red wine vinegar

Cider vinegar

Rice wine vinegar

Condiments:

Dijon mustard

Soy sauce

Fish sauce

Ketchup

Chili paste

Spices:

1 gourmet salt

Everyday salt for cooking, like kosher or iodized sea salt

Whole and ground cumin

Whole black pepper

Oregano

Thyme

Rosemary

Cayenne
 Pepper flakes

Cinnamon

Bay leaves

Canned Goods:

Canned wild salmon, sardines, herring, and anchovies

Canned beans and chickpeas

Canned whole and diced tomatoes

Coconut milk

Chicken or vegetable broth


Dry Goods:

3 types of pasta: one regular, one buckwheat or whole wheat, one rice noodle

Cornmeal

All-purpose unbleached flour

Whole-wheat flour

Lentils

2 types of dried beans – one white and one black or brown

Oats

1 white long-grain rice

1 brown rice

1 interesting rice, like red or black

1 to 2 types of quick cooking grains like quinoa

1 to 2 types of longer cooking grains like wheat berries, faro, kamut

Dried mushrooms

Dried chilies

Sea vegetables

Nut butters

Honey

Maple syrup

Agave and/or sugar

Refrigerator Pantry:

Capers

Anchovies

Eggs

Tortillas

Butter

Basic cheeses: one feta, one hard grating, and one everyday like cheddar or Jack

Plain yogurt

Pickles

Sauerkraut

Freezer Pantry:

Nuts and seeds: Almonds, walnuts, pecans, pumpkin seeds and sesame seeds

Frozen berries and stone fruit for smoothies and healthy desserts

Sliced bread

Other:

Lemons

Garlic

Onions

Shallots

Potatoes

Paraphernalia

The right tools can mean the difference between fun and frustration. Here are a few basic things that every cook needs. Feel free to embellish.

Utensils:

Good quality chef knife that is kept sharpened

Paring knife

Sharp serrated knife for use on bread and tomatoes

Tongs: restaurant quality, locking tongs; 1 long; 1 medium

Sturdy whisk: 1 small; 1 medium

Metal spatula
Rubber spatulas: 2 or 3 different sizes

Vegetable peeler

Wooden spoons: several in different sizes

Large metal spoon

Slotted spoon
Ladles: 1 large; 1 small

Potato Masher

Microplane for grating hard cheeses and lemon zest


Tools:

Strainer

Colander

Small hand juicer

Mortar and pestle for spices and garlic paste

Measuring spoons and cups

Box grater

Salad spinner

Nesting mixing bowls: metal or glass

Cutting boards: 1 for meat and seafood, 1 for vegetables and aromatics like garlic, and 1 for fruit

Blender or food processor

Hand-held mixer

Cookware:

1 small saucepan;
 1 medium saucepan

Large pot for boiling pasta and making soup

1 10-inch cast-iron skillet – great for non-stick uses as well!

Steamer or vegetable steamer basket

Baking sheets (at least 2)

A selection of glass or ceramic baking dishes: casseroles of different sizes and pie plates

A Crockpot or slow cooker will make cooking ahead easier.

Planning

Spend a few hours cooking on the weekend, add simply cooked fresh vegetables you’ve purchased at the farmers’ market, or received in your CSA, and feed yourself all week.

Depending on the size of your household, make:

One big pot of stew, soup, or pot of beans – use a crockpot if you want. One batch of grains – rice cookers are great for this task. A batch of roasted vegetables. A quick, basic vinaigrette
Meat eaters can roast or simmer a whole chicken or pop a meat roast in the oven.

Time allowing: another project like jam, pickles, salsa, or a pesto, red pepper puree, or other condiment.

All of the foods above lend themselves well to repurposing and quick meals. This is a good way to cook ahead for families who don’t enjoy eating leftovers. One pot of beans can become tacos, enchiladas, salads, soups, pasta dishes, dips, sandwich spreads, and more. A batch of cooked grains like brown rice or wheat berries can be used throughout the week in one-dish grain bowl meals with seasonal cooked greens, roasted squash or sweet potatoes. Cooked grains can also be added to salads or soups or used in stir-fries.

If you’ve cooked meat, use the meat in tacos, salads, sandwiches, pasta and grain dishes throughout the week. It really is all about cooking main meal components ahead of time.

Casserole type foods like lasagna take a bit longer to prepare but can also be frozen in portions or eaten all week with an array of quickly prepared, seasonal, vegetable accompaniments.

So there you have it: Want to cook more and eat out less? Just cook. These are just some ways to get started. You will surely develop your own repertoire over time.

Photos by: Valentin.Ottone, ernestch (flikr)

Originally published on EcoSalon

Care to sample a strawberry or scoop up salad greens for supper when you pick up your child from school? Since school went back last September you can do just that every Tuesday at Glenview Elementary School in Oakland, California.

Led by garden coordinator and parent Delana Toler, a small core of volunteers — some without kids at the school — work a PTA-initiated produce stand for two hours after classes are dismissed in the front yard of this public school, which serves a diverse group of families in the foothills east of Lake Merritt.

Unlike Windrush School farm stand profiled here previously, Glenview’s goal isn’t to raise school funds by selling produce. Instead, this stand serves simply to educate parents, students, and staff about seasonal, organic fruits and vegetables, and offer such produce at competitive prices, thanks to the generosity of Farmer Joe’s, a natural grocery store in the community, which supplies the stand at close to cost. (The grocer has also donated a greenhouse for the school garden.)

Parent volunteer Mark Halmi mans a tasting table to encourage folks to try unfamiliar produce. Last week Mark sauteed Swiss chard with garlic and raisins; a recent tasting made purple potato converts out of many pupils and their parents.

There’s a free piece of fruit to any child who comes equipped with a reusable tote to take produce home. (The PTA received a grant to distribute a Glenview produce bag, complete with an eye-catching mosaic design, above, to every child in the school.) Last-minute gleaners snap up whatever produce is left after most folks have long gone home.

On a visit last Tuesday I picked up a punnet of raspberries for $3.89 (they currently retail for $6.99 at my local grocer), along with rainbow chard, kiwi fruit, Arkansas black apples, and French fingerlings. Delighted that my son has recently discovered potatoes, these creamy tubers were delicious thinly sliced, sauteed & seasoned.

Depending on the season and the variety of local, organic produce available, Delana spends between $300 and $500 to stock the stand each week. And the better part of her Tuesday is consumed with stand duties.

Delana grew up on a farm in Oregon; pretty much everything the family ate came off their land. She sees the school’s vegetable garden and produce stand as a way for kids in more urban settings, including her daughter Dylan, to connect with food and where it comes from.

On a recent visit one teacher opened a window and called out: “I’m ready for you to take my order.” If principal Deitra Atkins can’t stop by the tasting table a sample is delivered to her office. Parents and kids cruise pass as school gets out with bags in tow.

Glenview is one of 10 farmers’ markets opened this fall in Oakland public schools. The other stands, the result of a partnership between the school district and East Bay Asian Youth Center, are mainly located in low-income areas in so-called “food deserts,” parts of the city in which fresh fruits and vegetables are hard to find, writes reporter Katy Murphy in a recent story for the Oakland Tribune.

What do you think of such programs operating on school grounds? At a time when school gardens in California have come under attack from some pretty snarky quarters, I’m curious to hear what others have to say about schools getting into the business of growing and selling food on campus.

(For a well-reasoned rebuttal to The Atlantic’s “Cultivating Failure,” penned by the frequently contrarian Caitlin Flanagan, check out this Civil Eats story by slow food chef Kurt Michael Friese.)

Given my background, perhaps I’m biased, but I see tremendous benefits in an edible education and few downsides to feeding kids fresh food.

What say you?

Photos: Joseph Bansuelo

Originally published on Lettuce Eat Kale

The White House likes healthy, fresh, local food — that was the message of First Lady Michelle Obama at the opening of the farmers market around the corner from the White House on Thursday. “I have never seen so many people excited about fruits and vegetables,” she began. “That’s a very good thing.”

She linked the market to the garden on the White House lawn. “When we decided to plant the White House garden, we thought it would be a way to educate kids about eating more healthy. But the garden has turned out into so much more than we could have expected,” she said. “This has been one of the greatest things I’ve done in my life so far.”

She also tied it to the health debate now underway. “I realized that little things like the garden can actually play a role in all of these larger discussions,” she said.

It was a celebratory occasion, punctuated by screams and yelps from the crowd. And then after her remarks, the shopping began as the First Lady strolled over to the Farm at Sunnyside and bought some organic vegetables from my friend Emily Cook, who I knew as a farm intern years ago.

USDA Secretary Vilsack was also on hand, drinking a bottle of organic chocolate milk from the grass fed cows at Clear Spring Creamery in Washington County, Maryland.

But the main attraction was the First Lady. Clearly, the White House is interested in this issue. Clearly, they are trying to do something about it. And hopefully, it will move past symbolism and the snarky criticism of columnists who miss the forest for the kale and retread the same old tired ground. A far more subtle and intelligent reading of this entire event — and an analysis of the First Lady’s message — can be found in this post by Eddie Gehman Kohan of ObamaFoodarama.

Grass roots activism started this local foods movement, dramatically expanding farmers’ markets around the country, but celebrities and policy makers will push things to the next level.

Among them — Bernadine Prince and Ann Yonkers, who launched the first FreshFarm Markets 12 years ago in DC and made this White House market happen. Farmers markets have come a long way since then and I expect they have a ways to go.

Here’s a video of the First Lady’s speech:

This post originally appeared on ChewsWise

Growing up in Kansas, I was surrounded by wheat and corn fields. Driving from my hometown of Wichita to visit my grandmother in Kansas City, I waved and shouted hello to the cows along the freeway. I never gave much thought to where my food came from because when I looked around, all I saw were farms. No one talked about food miles or supporting local farmers. I had a romanticized notion of big red barns, farmers getting up at five a.m. to plow the fields with their dog by their side and sitting down to dinner each night with food from their garden. I had no idea that most of the farms in my home state grew rows and rows of genetically modified wheat, corn and soy. It saddens me when I think about all the times I drove past, waving to the cows because I now realize that those were confined feeding animal operations (CAFOs). Ironically, it took my move to the San Francisco Bay Area to develop an interest and passion for sustainable agriculture. When I was asked to write about the local food scene in Kansas, I wondered if anything had changed. In a state were Monsanto reigns, does anyone care about local food?

Last summer, I went back to Lawrence, (home of my Alma matter University of Kansas- Rock Chalk Jayhawk!) for a wedding. I was headed to a hair appointment when I saw a sign that said “Local Burger.” I immediately pulled over and jumped out to see the menu. I felt like I was in desert and had seen a mirage. Was it possible I had found a restaurant serving a sustainable, organic meal in the middle of Kansas? For nearly four years, Local Burger has been serving college students and local residents’ elk, buffalo, beef, turkey and pork burgers. All of which are raised from nearby family farms using sustainable and humane practices, free of hormones and antibiotics. For the herbivores, a housemade veggie burger and tofu filet. The prices are inexpensive – $6 burgers to $12 for combo meals – perfect for college students on a tight budget. A few days later, I went back with my mom to have my first Local Burger and it was delicious.

I shouldn’t have been surprised to find a progressive restaurant concept like Local Burger. Lawrence has always been a proponent of keeping its dollars local and protesting the presence of large corporations on its historic Massachusetts Street in downtown. There are several other restaurants that have been creating traditional and artisan products for years: Wheatfield’s, Free State Brewing Company, a farmer’s market and Community Mercantile, a co-op providing organic and locally-produced food to its residents.

An hour east of Lawrence is the Greater Kansas City Area, a fifteen county area bordering the Kansas and Missouri state lines with nearly two million people.

For more than 12 years, Kansas City Food Circle has been connecting consumers to farmers and ranchers who meet its standards for organic produce and free-range animals. Membership is open to anyone and includes newsletters, a directory of farmers and what they produce, biannual membership meetings to meet the farmers and educational meetings which provide a forum for food issues. At its annual event, Expo, participants can sign up for a CSA (community supported agriculture), buy seedlings, free-range meats, canned goods and flour. This year it will be held Saturday, March 28 and Saturday, April 5. For more information, please click here.

To meet the growing demand for local products, expand existing farms and educate the next generation of growers, K-State Research and Extension, University of Missouri Research and Extension, the Kansas City Food Circle and the Kansas Rural Center collaborated to establish Growing Growers of Kansas City. The organization has a variety of educational and networking events, monthly workshops and a farm apprenticeship geared towards novice farmers. During the two-year apprenticeship, participants spend the first year learning basic skills and the second year learning advanced farm management skills. There is also an email listserv open to anyone and connects area growers, restaurateurs, grocery stores and others interested in locally produced food.

And in the state capital, Collective Brands, Inc. (formerly known as Payless Shoe Source) choose the on-site food service company, Bon Appétit Management Company), to feed its 1,000 employees at the company’s headquarters. For more than 20 years, Bon Appétit has been committed to serving fresh, great tasting food to corporations, universities and colleges and specialty venues. Unlike other foodservice companies, its chefs prepare seasonal menus which reflect the region and when possible, source local produce from nearby farms. Meats are produced without the use of antibiotics or hormones, eggs are cage-free, salmon is wild caught and seafood is purchased fresh when available locally. No trans fats or MSG are allowed in these kitchen. At Collective Brands, its café, Harvest Café, has eight different concepts: American Grill- sandwiches, grilled entrees, Cucina- wood-burning stones oven turning out individual pizzas and Italian food, Global- meat and vegetarian entrées with an international flare, Taqueria, a bakery and coffee bar, deli and salad bar. Chef Jeff Leahy and his team serve breakfast and lunch with the option of picking up a prepared dinner to go. Now, for those people who’ve never been to Topeka, food choices are limited to major fast food and quick service restaurant chains. I am filled with hope and excitement to know that people who are usually bound to the closest drive-thru burger joint are being exposed to fresh, seasonal meals year-round.

I have to admit, when I was first asked to write about locally-produced food in Kansas, I didn’t think I would meet an 800-word minimum. I love my home state for many things, but other than BBQ, I do not associate Kansas with good food. However, I think it’s time I changed my opinion. There is a food revolution happening all over the country. This is not a movement that is limited to those of us in California. Alice Waters may have initiated the idea from her infamous Berkeley restaurant, Chez Panisse but we are all starting to ask the same question “where does my food come from?”

Look around in your town to see how you can support your local economy. There are web sites and organizations such as Eat Wild, Slow Food USA and Local Harvest which can help you find nearby family farms and producers.

For the Kansans and Missourians reading, visit Kansas City CSA Coalition, Kansas City Community Gardens or Homegrown Kansas to learn more about your food community.

New Amsterdam Market is a non-profit organization dedicated to reinventing the indoor public market as a civic institution, in the City of New York. To date, we have held three seasonal market events that have drawn thousands of supporters from all five boroughs and beyond. Beginning this summer, we will hold monthly markets at a public site, whereby the aim is to increase the visibility of and demand for regional food, thus making the case to the city and the public alike for a permanent site.

To kick-off this effort, we are holding our very first fundraiser in Manhattan this Saturday, February 21, from 5-8PM, Founded on Oyster Shells. Come for a night of oysters, cask conditioned local beers, chowders and stews, spent grain bread, and winter vegetable pickles. Or, if you would like to show your support but are outside the immediate NYC area, check out our online auction with dozens of unique experiential items to choose from. The auction runs through Tuesday, February 24th.

New Amsterdam Market will be a market of purveyors – independent, locally owned businesses such as butchers, grocers, mongers, provisioners, and other vendors who will commit to sourcing and selling food from the region extending in a radius of approximately 500 miles from the City of New York. This type of public market is nothing new. All American cities once had public markets filled with just such vendors; and these vendors were primarily concerned with selling food produced by farms they knew in person. These markets were considered civic institutions because they were held on common ground, and fulfilled a public agenda: providing urban populations with a reliable, affordable, and healthy source of food while supporting regional economies.

New Amsterdam Market is one of many projects taking place right now to revive regional food systems and provide alternatives to the type of agriculture and food production we know we would all be better off without. The challenge is very real: how do we produce and distribute food without damaging the environment, compromising biodiversity, mistreating workers and animals, or compromising public health – all hallmarks of our present food system?

We believe that meaningful change results when individual, incremental efforts are combined under one roof. What results is a new entity whose sum is larger than its many parts. In New York, we have identified a number of passionate, committed individuals who have started businesses to support local farms, especially those at the forefront of sustainable production. For example, Anne Saxelby, who has built a business supporting cheese producers from the northeast – primarily from farms too busy or distant to participate in New York’s excellent Greenmarket system. These cheesemakers have come to view Anne as their trusted representative; and the same can now be said of several Regional meat producers whose products are being sourced by another business much like Anne’s – Dickson’s Farmstand Meats, owned by Jacob Dickson, or a store like Marlow and Daughters, a new butcher shop in Williamsburg Brooklyn that sells only responsibly raised meat. Or like Sweet Deliverance – a catering company owned by Kelly Geary, who sources from farmers markets and makes home-cooked meals for professionals who don’t have time to cook themselves.

New Amsterdam Market will be populated by vendors like this, including many who don’t exist yet but who will emerge when they find the haven to incubate their businesses. This type of economic development, which benefits both the urban and rural economy, has long been promoted by cities through the institution of the public market. Furthermore, as a gathering of individuals committed to pursuing a common goal and representing only what they believe is real, the public market becomes a venue that restores the public trust – another function of a civic institution. This is the goal of New Amsterdam Market.

Seventeen years ago, I left a great job teaching at a prestigious northeast culinary school to move back to Iowa and be an executive chef at a Holiday Inn. It was difficult to find people, in Vermont or Iowa, who did not think I was certifiably insane. Those who thought they knew Iowa claimed, “There’s no there, there!” And those who did not asked, “Iowa? Isn’t that where they grow potatoes?”

Because I had spent my undergraduate years in Iowa, I was accustomed to the rest of the country, especially folks from the coasts, referring to it as one of the “flyover states.” Iowans, a group among whom I now proudly count myself, are fine with that — as long as such critics do just fly over. We’ll wave. We’re Iowans. East Coast has Broadway, West Coast has Hollywood, and Iowa has people — damn fine people.

The other thing Iowa has is Agriculture — and I use that capital “A” deliberately. We produce more pork, more corn, and more eggs than any other state in the union, and come in second or third in virtually every other commodity crop save oranges. And who knows? Global climate change may change that too.

What the people who wanted to put me in a rubber room a decade and a half ago didn’t see, which I did, was the massive potential for local, sustainable, community-based food systems in Iowa. After all, it is home to 3 million people who still have spiritual and familial ties to the finest soil on the planet.

One of the lessons I’ve learned from almost 30 years in food service is that fresh tastes best. Sounds obvious until you look beneath the surface a bit and realize that what passes for fresh in many places is really not so fresh, and many “foods” currently available on store shelves can be measured in half-life rather than shelf life. Ninety-five percent of Iowa’s food is imported, and it travels an average of 1,500 miles to get to our plates. This in a state that can grow anything that can grow outside the tropics. Doesn’t matter how fast your planes, trains, and trucks are; if it traveled 1,500 miles, it’s not fresh.

My thought was, the closer it is to my kitchen door, the fresher it’s going to be. Seemed simple enough. At the time, the farmers’ market was right outside the hotel’s back door, but disagreements with management kept me from buying much from the market then. So 12 years ago I opened  Devotay, a tiny, quirky little restaurant serving Spanish-style food made from local ingredients (wherever feasible) smack in the belly of the agribusiness beast. There were ADM and IBP (now Tyson) and Quaker plants less than 30 minutes away. There was one other business I could find that endeavored to buy locally (the renowned New Pioneer food co-op), and when I walked through the farmers’ market in my white chef’s coat, people looked at me funny. “What’s a chef doing in the farmers’ market?” I could almost hear them thinking.

I only knew two farmers personally, but I knew people who knew people, and gradually Devotay built a network of local growers we now lovingly refer to as the Devotay Local Farm Partners, who are recognized in name and image at the restaurant’s entrance (“The Hall of Farm”). What success and accolades Devotay has received I owe primarily to them (and to the best dang staff in town). In addition, we built a one-acre garden of our own under the loving care of my wife and business partner, Kim McWane Friese. Guests never cease to be pleased and impressed with the greens, tomatoes, peppers, ground cherries, and more that come from the Devotay Gardens.

But getting from there to here was not a straight line. Opening a small restaurant serving Spanish food — which most guests thought would be like Mexican — with no TVs, no fry-o-lators, no smoking, and no light beer in a college town, seemed to many to be further evidence of my deteriorating mental and emotional condition. But it is said that nothing persists like persistence, and we were convinced that if we focused on the food, everything else would fall into place.

The food I bought locally was simply better. It looked, smelled, and tasted better, and there is mounting evidence (more here) that much of it is more healthful as well. And it has economic and marketing benefits too. There is a strong multiplier effect to keeping my dollar in my community, and my clientele appreciate our dedication to the health and well-being of the area.

Connections to those first two farmers, Simone Delaty of Wellman and James Nisly of Kalona, led to friendships with many others, such as Susan Jutz, who runs the organic CSA Local Harvest with Simone, and Nick Wallace, who raises grass-finished beef.

Onward the connections went. Along the way I learned that buying all my ingredients off the back of a truck from U.S. Foodservice is definitely easier, and often cheaper. But that food is never of a higher quality, and it takes its toll. Any business can take great strides when it stops looking at price and starts looking at cost. Same holds true for individuals and families. For just a moment set aside the price on the tag, and take a good hard look at the hidden costs of cheap food.

Chefs, you may think it cheaper to buy that commodity beef from Sysco. Moms and dads, it may seem more convenient to get the cheap grocery-store apples from New Zealand than to visit the nearby orchard, or to get the frozen entrée rather than making a simple pasta dish at home. But imagine the impact on our environment and health-care system of all that processed food. Think of the fuel used to ship an apple halfway around the planet. Then consider the benefits of taking a walk through an orchard with your children, of having them learn at your apron strings, of shaking the hand that raised that steer.

We are all co-producers, Wendell Berry tells us, all a part of the interconnected web of food production, and are therefore just as culpable for its ills as the agribusiness corporate executives are.

I am a gastronome. It’s a fancy word for someone who makes a study of food, has a passion, even a reverence for it.  Slow Food founder Carlo Petrini pointed out recently that, “A gastronome who is not also an environmentalist is an idiot. An environmentalist who is not also a gastronome is, well, sad.”

In the past seventeen years I have seen an awakening here in Iowa, and I have undergone one myself. Where once no restaurants were buying locally, now there are at least 15 in Iowa City alone (a town of just 60,000). Plenty more are cropping up in even smaller surrounding towns:  Lincoln Café in Mt. Vernon, Redhead in Solon,  Phoenix Café in Grinnell,  Augusta in Oxford and Café Dodici in Washington, to name just a few. The University of Iowa Food Service is sourcing some foods locally, and the Iowa City Farmers’ Market, where people used to look confused when they saw my chef’s coat, has more than doubled in size and hosts plenty of chefs every day.

There’s plenty more to be gleaned from my magazine, Edible Iowa River Valley, and you can sign up for our email newsletter here.  The restaurant has a newsletter too – sign up here.

If such progress can be made here, one plant, one plate, one palate at a time, it can be made everywhere, and I hope it will. Because the best times of our lives often happen gathered around a table with great food in front of us and the people we love all around. Who wouldn’t want more of that?

Two Devotay Recipes
By Chef Kurt Michael Friese

This bisque is the perfect winter belly-warmer, always well received at Devotay and now even more so with the addition of Iowa’s own whiskey, Templeton Rye. The pork shoulder is the recipe I used when preparing the Mulefoot hog for consideration by the Slow Food USA Ark and Presidia Committee. The Mulefoot was boarded onto the ark at Seed Savers Exchange in September 2005.

Squash Bisque with Maple and Templeton Rye

I grow most of the ingredients (except the bay and the syrup) for this soup myself, but they should be readily available this time of year in most farmers’ markets. The rye, though, will be a challenge, as it is only available here in Iowa. A good bourbon can substitute.

2 1/2 pounds butternut (or other) squash, peeled, seeded, and diced
2 carrots, diced
1 onion, peeled and diced
1/2 pound red potatoes, washed
5 cloves garlic, peeled
1 stalk celery, sliced
1 bay leaf
1 cup Templeton Rye Whiskey
1/2 cup real maple syrup
water, to cover
salt and cracked black pepper, to taste
Simmer all ingredients except the whiskey and maple syrup until very tender. Remove bay leaf. Puree and pass through a fine strainer. Return to heat, bring to simmer, and add the rye and maple syrup. Season to taste with salt and fresh cracked black pepper. Serve immediately, or cool and store up to 3 days. Freezes well. Serves about 8.

Smoked and Braised Mulefoot Hog Shoulder
With Sweet Peppers, la Quercia Prosciutto Americano, and Lacinato Kale

This is a time-consuming recipe, but worth every minute. It’s a great way to really wow your guests at the next barbecue. Remember to use the Mulefoot, or one of the other breeds listed on the Slow Food Ark of Taste & Tradition — we have to eat them to save them!

2 pound pork shoulder roast, boned and netted (your butcher will do this for you)
1/4 cup each salt and brown sugar, mixed with
2 tablespoons cracked black pepper

8 paper-thin slices of prosciutto
8 large leaves of lacinato kale
3 cups julienned sweet bell peppers, preferably of many colors
1/4 cup very thin sliced garlic cloves
1 large yellow onion, julienned
2 carrots, diced
2 stalks celery, diced
2 bay leaves
2 quarts fresh chicken or veal stock (or to cover), well seasoned

2 days in advance:

Rub the shoulder with the seasonings and refrigerate in a sealed plastic bag overnight.

Slow smoke the shoulder over hickory or cherry wood, at a temperature of 225 degrees F for 5 to 7 hours, or until the crust is very dark and the internal temperature is about 160 F.

Remove, cool to room temperature, then refrigerate overnight.

Day of service:

Mix the peppers, garlic, onions, carrots, celery, and bay leaves, and place them in the bottom of a large, deep casserole or other ovenproof pan that is at least 5 inches deep.

Preheat the oven to 350 F.

Cut the pork into preferred portion size (roughly 6 to 9 ounces, depending on how hungry your family is). Wrap each piece with a slice of prosciutto and a leaf of kale. Place each piece seam-side down on the bed of vegetables in the casserole.

Add the chicken or veal stock, enough to just cover the pork. Add a little water or white wine if you’re a little short of liquid.

Cover tightly with a lid or with parchment and foil.

Braise for 3 hours, then remove and allow to rest for 30 minutes. Serve over risotto or polenta. Makes 4 to 6 servings.

Chef Tory Miller of Madison, Wisconsin’s L’Etoile Restaurant told me “people [should] understand how important food systems are to our communities. Many restaurants in Madison are using the local farmers market. The more we champion it, the bigger and stronger it gets which is especially important in this economy. We’re keeping each other in business.”

I first heard of him when he spoke at the U.S. Delegates meeting at Terre Madre this past October. He shared the story of his restaurant and the power of community. I was moved by his charm and passion. Miller smiles readily and is just one of those people that seems genuinely deeply happy and beautiful. I am drawn to this kind of person and find that a lot of the folks in the “food movement” embody this spirit as they work to create a simple, beautiful and healthy world.

Chef Miller moved to Madison from New York City in 2003. He just wanted a change of pace and a new environment and sent resumes to a lot of different restaurants, not knowing anyone really. A few chef friends knew Odessa Piper, the former owner of L’Etoile, which has been a Madison favorite since she opened it in 1976; so he sent his resume there as well. She called him back and they hung out when he arrived in town. They connected thanks to similar ideas and beliefs about sourcing locally and while she didn’t have a job for him, she let him do some prep – washing spinach and butchering fish. That was in October of 2003 and by December he was the Chef de Cuisine.

Piper transferred her commitment to the local farmers to Miller. These farmers sell at the market on Capital Square which just so happens to be right out the front door of L’Etoile. Piper took Miller to the market and introduced him to every farmer she’d worked with since the beginning. She invited him into her relationships, into the community, that had been integral to her success. “These relationships are key. We may not buy from the root vegetable farmer in the summer, but I always stop by and say ‘hi’ and see what’s going on. Walking around the market feels like family. And, its just about being real with people,” says Miller. “Another great thing about the market is the flow. It’s the coolest thing. You only walk counterclockwise. Everyone’s doing it, so that all the vendors are on your right at all times. Everyone knows the rule – that you go this way.”

Today Miller has extended those relationships to increase seasonal availabilities at the restaurant. And, they do they loads of preserving and freezing. They dry mushrooms, blueberries and tomatoes. And, of course, they make tomato sauces. “This makes the winter menus more interesting and fun. When you only have eight winter vegetables available, you have to get creative.”

For Miller running a successful business includes the making sure the people he works with are successful as well. “Some chefs will take the attitude that they’ll only use what’s best. But we all work together here. The difference is if the farmer has only 20 pounds of something left, they’ll call me first to see if I want to buy it. And, there’s a lot of mutual respect. They’ll never put one over on me. I always pay on time and always get great produce. As opposed to working with a big company. If you’re buying produce over the phone with some guy who’s just sitting at his computer, there’s no contact. If you don’t like the produce or meat they send you, they may say ‘Just FedEx it back’ – my friends, the farmers, they’ll apologize and its not as impersonal.”

“As a chef, you need to understand seasonality – a huge help to us in the winter.  A lot of people think good food and local food is expensive.  But commodity foods are just cheap and cheaply made. It’s important to me to see the face of the person who’s raised my food. If it’s okay with you to buy fish from a guy that sits at his computer, that’s okay for you, but its even better to stop by the market and meet these people. It’s the first step to getting in touch with your food. The stronger the food system is locally the stronger the local economy. It’s all tied together. When I visit their farms and I see they’ve added a new hoop house, or a new truck, I see their success and I like to think I play a role in that. We’re all happy and it’s such a cool thing.”

For more information about L’Etoile’s farmers, their website has a comprehensive directory – just one more way to share the love.

Just about every Saturday I enjoy a post farmers’ market brunch with two couples, three dogs and a two-year old boy. We gather at Sean and Rachel’s Bernal Heights home after each of us has finished shopping at the Alemany Farmers’ Market— a fixture in San Francisco since 1943 — share in our extra fruits, veg and herbs then create a meal with our odds and ends. These Saturdays bring a special tenor to what would otherwise be a single gal’s weekly errand.

To save on parking hassles and gas, I usually catch a ride to the market with Judit and Ben and their two-year old son Finn. This week little Finn responded to my “Hello Finn” with an excited “We’re going to the market” and a smile. He’s just started speaking in sentences and it was such a pleasure to hear him bring up where we were headed without any prompting from his parents.

Once we all arrive, we split up and have our own market adventures with occasional waves from various stalls and quick phone calls with announcements like “don’t get any spinach, I got a ton.” I am bound to run into other friends and we stop to talk about what they bought, what they’re making and which vendors have the best produce. Sometimes it’s hard to focus on the marketing when there are so many friendly faces. The experience brings an incredible sense of community and powerfully re-connects many people after a long work week.

It doesn’t take us too long to complete our individual shopping and we always seem to find each other just as we’ve all finished. Sean and Rachel, who live a few blocks up Bernal hill from the market, put their bags into Ben and Judit’s car and walk back home. We’ll meet them there and get help unloading Finn and the food.

With the winter market in full operation last Saturday, there were heaps of citrus, kiwi, winter greens, root vegetables and a surprise oyster vendor from Tomales Bay. “I’m so excited by oysters. I learned to shuck them last week.” Ben said after we asked the man selling Kumoto oysters how fresh they were. (His answer, “Fresh today!”)

In reference to a bright yellow pomelo, Judit said “its too big for just the three of us.” She couldn’t wait to cut it open for our brunch.  Rachel replied, “I got a huge thing of mustard greens to split!” And, indeed it was far too much for two people and we all took a bit of it; me for the weekly Sunday soup I make to sup on when I need a quick healthy meal.

Once we get to Sean and Rachel’s pad, we unpack our bags and talk about what we bought and have to share. We talk food and preparation methods. We indulge in the joy of the wait, the anticipation of fresh bread, vegetables and fruits and often a glass of wine or Champagne.  We set the table piecemeal and watch our feast unfold. While we chop spring onions, shuck oysters and make coffee, Finn explores the house, the dogs hover for scraps and we catch up.

This week we went overboard on our feast. We celebrated gathering for the first time in 2009 with a beautiful table of 24 Kumoto oysters, strawberry radishes, sliced carrots, pomelo, Petaluma garlic cheddar goat cheese, fresh croissants, bagels and Oregon herb bread, spring onions, Fuji apples, a smoked ahi tuna spread, coffee and a sweet Lambrusco. With some cilantro, carrots and fresh bread for us each to split up and take home later.

Each time we gather is different and I’m always delighted by the conversations we have once we’re seated — how they grow and evolve as we eat slowly. I feel alive and awake and it’s easy to imagine I’m on a European holiday waxing poetic about the world. This week I learned about the Center for Land Use Interpretation, a LA-based research organization that as Sean described “provides solid information about how humans have changed the landscape.” He and Rachel went on a landfill tour with them, which I found facinating. We talk current events and politics, and delve deeply into the flavors we experience.

The oysters were like butter; the apples sweet and juicy.  Finn watched us closely as we conducted an impromptu side-by-side tasting of carrots from two different farms. It was organic versus “no spray.” The no spray crisp, dense, earthy and delicate and the organic winning with a sweeter flavor that was considerably less bitter. At $1.50 more per bunch, we agreed that they were an expensive indulgence and the flavor was worth the extra cost.  We enjoy sharing “little bites of heaven” – our own flavor combinations created from the components on the table. The tuna spread acted as the perfect base for experimentation. I created a simple bite of tuna on a croissant with spring onions to share with the gang; Judit gushed over “this bread, with the spread plus pomelo” and gave us each a bite-sized taste. Ben chimed in with “I’m gonna try yours and raise you an onion!”

We sang “Itsy Bitsy Spider” over and over with Finn and I couldn’t help but remark on the type of memories these Saturdays create for him. He’s a sponge observing healthy eating and the play of good friends being fully present with each other.

I know I’m very fortunate in this world. I live in San Francisco where we have clear blue skies and warm days in January. I have access to an abundant market that I can afford, and choose to spend more time cooking than not. I love my Saturday ritual. It’s simple, vital and contributes generously to my life and I am always grateful for it. And, it’s about more than the food I buy. It’s about the conversations and time I share with my friends. It’s about how we get to explore each other’s tastes and preferences. It’s about community and being present in the moment. It’s about coming to the table together on a regular basis.

My friend Josh, an organizer for Rainforest Action Network (get involved!), always tells me that without optimism we have no hope of changing the world. Maybe that seems obvious if you think about it, but it requires a fairly radical repositioning of my social-political framework which was born out of a punk rock anger at all the injustices of our world and a sort of despondency mixed with fear that it could never change. Now what kind of introduction to a food-related post is this? Well, it’s one that gets at the inspiration and hope I had listening to Billy Bragg say much the same thing as Josh last night at the Somerville Theatre. And in hearing it at that moment, I sat back and thought about all of the ways to find hope in the everyday and, somewhat strangely perhaps, realized that one thing I have been continually inspired to hope by this year is the current tomato trend.

If it seems like every year you are seeing more and more varieties of local, heirloom tomatoes at the farmer’s markets, at specialty stores, at conventional big box grocery stores, you’re right. Though seed-saving on the whole has experienced significant declines, especially in the last decade, many growers are saving, sharing, planting and tending a great number of unusual tomato plants, and the market for them is growing as well. Despite the fact that these heirloom fruit are more labor intensive to grow, more delicate to bring to market, and thus more expensive than their perfect red round laboratory counterparts, they are increasingly popular.

In many ways the trend of increased popularity for heirloom tomato varieties goes against big market-shaping assumptions about what people want from their food. These tomatoes are not cheap, they’re not uniform, they’re not consistently available, they are sometimes even unattractive with lumps and bumps and dark ridges or strange colors that do not fit into our archetype for the perfect tomato. And that’s just the thing, they’re changing the way both producers and consumers think about food. Heirloom tomatoes are on the frontline of expanding possibilities for produce, creating opportunity and incentive to get invested in trying new varieties, support crop diversity, encourage farmers to grow real food from seeds without patents and to say we value and support this kind of production.

There are few people who are not feeling at least the looming shadow of fear caused by the implosion of the credit market, and yet my farmer’s market is busier than it has ever been and people are willing to pay almost four dollars for a pint of cherry tomatoes. I recognize that this is mark of privilege (though there are always customers paying with food stamps at the market), but I also choose to think of it as progress. I like to think that the huge piles of heirloom tomatoes stacked on plywood planks every Saturday morning that dwindle quickly through the opening hours are a sign that people are increasingly willing to pay a real cost of food production for real food. Maybe others look at it the same way I do, as a matter of priorities. I choose to prioritize food and I think that tomatoes were gateway produce for me in this regard. My first year of grad school, cobbling together Boston rent and bill coverage out of a pretty paltry stipend, standing at a farmer’s market table I compared the cost of our pantry staple, Goya black beans, to the cost of heirloom tomatoes and wondered, could it possibly be worth it? I decided that it was. It was worth it not just in that moment as instant gratification, but as a macro thing, as a broad choice for the future of food production.

Fast forward six years to my kitchen window sill this morning in late October and I’m staring at four heirloom tomatoes ripening above a truly obscene, if artful, pile of local squash mostly from my Parker Farm’s CSA (plus an extra red kuri and birdhouse from the farmer’s market that couldn’t be resisted) and I realize that my heirloom tomato-spurred philosophy has been broadly extended. I value food, I value the people who grow food, I particularly value food that comes from my Commonwealth and in so far as it is reasonable for me to do so, I will pay for it because that’s the only way to keep it coming. Watching as the tomatoes year after year become an accepted and valued part of the late summer and fall for people gives me hope that we can broadly shift our ideas about food and put more care into it. Food might seem like a fluffy kitten of a problem compared to other things going on in the world, but our attention and investment in food systems is vital on a macro level and our willingness to put time and energy into cooking and eating and sharing food with each other does not a little to dent our dependence on impersonal and unhealthy factory food and our “bowling alone” culture.

I know I’ve said it before, but food choices are political in both a capital P and baby p sense and in each sense a possibility for change exists. Serving my favorite tomato soup made with rich red tomatoes with craggy tops and tiny golden tomatoes, each one near to or having burst open with juices, from a farm in Lundenburg where I’ve actually seen them growing transforms me in a way that opening a can could not. The question is though, how does that transformation matter? The cynic in me could say that it doesn’t, that it just serves to make me feel good and prop me up on my privilege as a person who can obtain quality foods. A spirit of hope in me though says that it matters in terms of my ability and willingness to extend out from that, to find value in considering all of my choices, beyond food, considering their impact on the world and in my own life. Beyond all the day to day noise, life really might just be as simple as finding joy in something and holding onto it, transforming yourself with it.

That was what Saturday afternoons this summer and fall were all about for me. Though my weekends tend to be the busiest part of the week, I carved out a little ritual that brought me more joy than seems possible: flowers from the yard and or market, a selection of heirloom tomatoes and herbs, white bean puree accented with Spanish olive oil, sea salt, fresh mint and lemon, fresh baked bread, and time to enjoy it all.

[Cross-posted from The Conscious Kitchen]