A must read!
From Mark Bittman’s New York Times blog…
[click on the text to visit the post online.]
Of the two edges of the sword of America’s malnutrition — hunger and obesity — the latter is by far the more prevalent and deadly. In New York City perhaps 2 percent of children have “very low food security,” which might mean vitamin deficiencies, a day without food, a loss of weight, a month of being hungry[2]. Meanwhile, 40 percent of New York’s public school students are overweight or obese, and 2,000 New Yorkers die each year from obesity or overweight-related conditions. All of those deaths are preventable.
No one should belittle even a little hunger, but this why-do-we-even-have-to-talk-about-it comparison of it and obesity is germane because the city’s Health Department recently suspended expansion of the Breakfast in the Classroom (BIC) program, which serves free breakfast in the classrooms of 381 of 1,750 public schools. The program is ostensibly meant to ensure that hungry kids start the day with something to eat.
From yesterday’s New York Times:
Deep breath.
That’s awful news. Just awful. Here’s to feeding kids right. Right?
And today wraps up our week in Hawaii. After a brief play in the ocean this morning we’ll be boarding a plane bound for Oregon. And tomorrow I get to go to work!
I’m so excited.
You see, it’s been a week since I’ve scaled ingredients, mixed a dough or chopped chocolate. I miss it. So much. Sure, vacation is nice. But there’s only so much “relaxing” I can take. I’m like a toddler who needs a definite routine in order to thrive - vacations being void of routine - aren’t exactly my style. My husband swears this is one of my biggest flaws. I swear it’s one of my special talents. But we can agree to disagree.
Anyways, I was thrilled to see in the Guardian this morning a post about chocolate chip cookies. It made me miss my pastry station a bit less - and got me even more excited to be headed into work tomorrow.
Dear Felicity Cloake breaks down the ingredients for perfect (read: American) chocolate chip cookies. Everything from types of sugar to hardness of flour is examined. It’s the perfect read if you’ve ever wondered why chocolate chippers come out flat and crispy while others are puffed and cakey.
Enjoy!
[click on the image to go to the story.]
My (hilarious, loving, amazing, quirky, faux French-speaking) kid will be entering kindergarten in the fall. In a stroke of luck (or an act of God, depending upon your point of view,) he lotteried in to a brand new (!) French immersion public charter school here in Portland.
I told you about it before - and also mentioned that I’d be helping to formulate the school food program. And now, a few weeks later, I’m heading up the entire school food committee. Whoa.
I don’t usually enter in to anything half-assed, and this school food thing is no exception. So I’ve turned to my library of books concerning feeding children and I’m feeling quite inspired.
The most recent book I’ve read on the subject is French Kids Eat Everything by Karen Le Billion. While it doesn’t exactly apply to formulating a school food program for an American school, it did make a few points that have really stuck with me. The first? French kids don’t eat between meals. Think of the mountains of junk food this eliminates: “granola” bars filled with tablespoons of sugar, goldfish crackers, yogurt in a tube, processed cheese in a plastic tray.
The second point: at French schools the children are only offered water to drink. In fact, vending machines are completely, flat-out banned at all French schools.
The third point (and this has become a mantra for me): Le Billion suggests saying the following phrase to your kids, you don’t have to like it, but you do have to taste it. This has worked wonders for me. With this simple (and somewhat magical) phrase, I’ve got my kid eating bowls of broccoli and piles of lettuce. He tries a bite knowing it’s just a taste - then he realizes he likes it. It literally works like a charm.
French Kids Eat Everything basically explains that the idea that you have to feed kids kid food is completely false. Agreed.
And now I’m reading Lunch Wars - a not-so-light hearted look at school food. After reading the first chapter which covered GMO’s and food additives I thought I might cry my eyes out. I avoid any processed food containing ingredients I don’t recognize as real food, so I’ve never really looked at lists of ingredient names and exactly what they are doing to our kids. Reading up on it really opened my eyes and the information gained scares the you-know-what out of me.
The best piece of information I’ve gained so far - especially where my own food shopping is involved - is how to read PLU labels on produce. I had NO IDEA that you can tell if something has been genetically modified by it’s PLU number. Take a look:
I find this information so useful that I took a snapshot of it on my cell phone and saved it to my home screen. Now while shopping, if I need a refresher, I can pull up the information in an instant.
I know I’ve only scratched the surface of school food - but I’m happy to have you readers along for the journey. And if anyone out there has something they’d like to add to the conversation, I’d be happy to hear it! Got something to say about school food?
From the essay ‘Rented-House Cookery’ in Colwin’s More Home Cooking:
There is something liberating about cooking in a rented house. Suddenly your daily props are gone, and you are in unfamiliar territory. Terrifying as this sometimes is, it is always good for you. Cooking in the summer is like nothing else, and cooking in the summer in a rented house is rather like taking off your winter underwear and putting on a flimsy pinafore. You feel light and strange, and interesting things occur to you.
My (extremely trusty) psychologist always tells me that the longest a mixed group of people can last when, say, vacationing in the same house, is 72 hours. Right at the 72 hour mark someone is sure to break. He prescribes long, solitary walks to keep this dreaded 72 hour curse at bay. Or, in my case, an hour-long run followed by 40 minutes of paddleboarding.
I’ve been doing a lot of running this week, and I hate running.
Just a day or so ago I posted about cooking for family while on vacation, and I’m still hoping my in laws never figure out how to find my blog. (If you know them, please don’t explain it. Thank you.) And the following story is too good to keep in, so here’s hoping they continue to think that computers and the internet are just a passing fad.
When we arrived in Hawaii I made a menu and a plan for a week of eating. I cruised the beach towns (in a sweet rented minivan, mind you) looking for produce. I pinned said menu to the fridge so that everyone could see what would be for dinner each night of our stay. And aside from the (literally) 45 comments concerning how much food we had in the fridge and the (again, literally) 56 comments about the drudgery of cooking, the public menu thing worked out well.
Until last night.
The menu very clearly stated:
Grilled tofu
Whole wheat noodles with peanut sauce
Ronnie’s orange broccoli
Oahu oranges & melon
Local milk chocolate squares
It was early afternoon when my father in law grabbed the keys to the minivan and announced he had to go in to town for something. As he drove away it dawned on me how many times I saw him standing in front of the fridge that morning staring at the menu.
He returned not too long after with a steak and a bag of frozen french fries.
Now, I’d be lying if I said that this didn’t bother me. It bothered me a whole hell of a lot for about 11 minutes. But then I let it go. While I’d eat grilled tofu and broccoli any day of the week in any amount you’d feed it to me, I know some people don’t feel the same. Especially if you are in your mid-sixties, enjoy Larry McMurtry novels, and were raised by a family of elk hunters in Bend, Oregon.
So, I continued with my plan to grill tofu and enjoy it happily with a heap of broccoli.
I prepared the broccoli using a stir fry recipe from my friend Ronnie Fein. (She posted it on her blog this week.) Only, being in a vacation house we don’t really have a frying pan large enough for a big batch of stir fry, so I ended up roasting the broccoli until tender and then tossing it with Ronnie’s orange/garlic/ginger sauce. But more on that later…
When dinner time rolled around and we were all seated at the table on the lanai - the smell of grilled steak in the air - everyone but my father in law had piles of tofu, peanutty noodles and broccoli on their plates - including his 5 year old grandson. He looked at his pile of frozen fries and said, “I can’t believe I have these on my plate. Would you mind passing the noodles? And I guess I’d better try that broccoli.”
He took one bite of the broccoli and explained that he had never had it prepared any other way but boiled and that this version of broccoli was a revelation. And then he asked for seconds.
A small victory, but a victory for sure.
—-
Ronnie’s Beach House Broccoli
Follow Ronnie’s recipe only make the following adjustments:
Preheat the oven to 400 degrees. Prepare the broccoli and toss it in a bit of canola oil and salt on a sheet tray. Roast for just a few minutes until bright green and crunchy. Transfer to a mixing bowl.
Heat a bit of canola oil in a small frying pan and add the green onion, garlic, ginger, chili pepper and orange peel. Sweat until tender then add the orange juice and let reduce. Once the sauce has reduced, remove it from the heat and let it cool slightly then toss with the broccoli. Finish with the sesame oil.
I served the broccoli cold because we’re in a warm climate, but it would be equally as delicious served hot.
—-
In case you’re curious, we have a Mexican feast on the menu for tonight. Mushroom tacos. Fingers crossed everyone will eat them!
Full speed ahead: I’ve been officially charged with heading up the school food program. Huge (but completely thrilling) undertaking.
Aloha from the tropical isle of Oahu.
We are on a week-long family vacation. A Christmas gift from my in-laws. All of us (including said in-laws) crammed into a traditional Hawaiian bungalow on a stretch of beach called Lanikai. Google it. No, wait. I’ll do it for you.
Yes, things could be worse. I know.
The thing I hate about vacation (aside from the fact that I’m paler than pale and can only spend time in the sun in 4 minute increments) is that you can’t take your kitchen with you. Sure, lots of folks are excited to get away - to do less laundry and cook fewer meals…but not me. Not cooking actually makes me itchy. The thought of eating every meal out for a week makes my insides feel funny (in more ways than one.) Cooking isn’t what I have to do - it’s what I want to do.
Which is why I’m thankful for this sweet little bungalow and it’s 1950’s kitchen. It’s not much (and the knives will barely cut a slice of sandwich bread,) but it’s a place to cook and that makes me happy.
Now, neither my mother in law or my father in law or my husband understand this. None of the three enjoy cooking. But let me tell you something - for having no interest in cooking the three of them sure are obsessed with food. It’s almost all I’ve heard about since we’ve been here. They walk into the kitchen and open the fridge and say, “Sure is a lot of food in here!” or “My god we’d better start eating!” Or (better yet and for the 15th time) “I’m just sorry you have to do the cooking.” Or (even better, especially since I’ve said multiple times that I want to cook and that I’m not simply saying that,) “Oh, gosh, Jami. You’re in the kitchen cooking again. I’m sorry.” And yesterday when I came home from the market I heard this: “Wow. You sure bought a lot of food!” And that’s when I lost it.
I’ll admit I’m a tad dehydrated. I know spending a lot of time in the sun makes me a little irritable. But still, it surprised even me when I started in on my poor father in law. The words came spewing out of my mouth before I could stop myself. Of course now it’s all a blur, but I know I yelled a bunch of stuff about the amount of food it takes to cook meals for five people for a week and how they might be used to packaged and frozen everything but that’s not how I eat and if I’m in charge of the kitchen they need to let me be in charge and stop f&*king commenting on whether or not I had to buy olive oil at the f&*king market! For the love of you-know-who!
Okay, there. Now I feel better.
Anyways, I’m on vacation in Hawaii and I’m doing the cooking. End of story. Or, kind of…
…There’s a Whole Foods in the next town over. I went there yesterday. I was excited to discover all sorts of local produce - sniff the pineapples and grab bunches and bunches of apple bananas. I was smacked in the (sunburned) face with disappointment. Damn you Whole Foods for making your brands so cheap so that the local stuff seems so much more expensive. Russet potatoes grown in Oregon and packaged under the 365 Whole Foods brand were two dollars a pound less expensive than the russets that were Oahu grown. Coffee grown in Hawaii was THIRTEEN DOLLARS more expensive per pound than the 365 brand. Locally made granola overflowing with mango and ginger was (this is crazy) EIGHT DOLLARS more per pound than the Whole Foods stuff.
Of course I know that food is expensive in Hawaii. I’m not an idiot. But my Whole Foods experience really threw me for a loop. So much so that I (thank you Mr. Jobs) pulled out my iphone and searched for the local farmer’s markets. Found one. Went there. Bought Oahu potatoes and crispy little cucumbers. Molokai apple bananas. Kona coffee. Maui pineapples. And once again all was right with my world.
The only thing better than being happy in the kitchen cooking a delicious meal is being happy in the kitchen cooking a delicious meal while sipping a concoction I have been calling a Cool Breezer (I blame this name squarely on the bright sunshine. It really throws me for a loop.)
Here’s how you can make two Cool Breezers of your own:
You need:
Make the breezer:
Oahu Russet Potato Oven Fries
Serves 4
In my experience Oahu russets are rather small little guys. To feed four over-eaters and one kid I needed 10 potatoes.
You need:
Make the oven fries:
And, finally, I have to give a shout out to my new favorite fruit: the apple banana. I don’t think one has truly lived until they have tasted this extraordinary fruit that looks like a banana but tastes like a strawberry-apple-banana smoothie. No fooling. Apple bananas, I love you and will miss you so much next week in my morning granola.
Hawaii in pictures:
First, the Cool Breezer.
Next, Oahu Oven Fries.
My beloved apple bananas:
And, finally, the view I have out the dining room window (of course we don’t eat indoors! That’s what the lanai is for!)
Happy Saturday!
In a rare turn of events it’s supposed to be sunny here in good ol’ PDX today. I for one will believe it when I see it because my ‘hood is currently shrouded in thick fog. Hey, Portland! It’s spring! Let the sun shine already!
Here’s a reading list for you. I loved every word…
An inspiring account of the #3 chef in the (whole wide) world. Yes, El Bulli is involved.
My mothering instincts hate this (flu season is NOT over!), my (original) Willy Wonka obsessed self L O V E S this: lickable wallpaper!
And, finally, a piece highlighting Joan (the amazing) of Joan’s on 3rd in LA. My favorite quote: She can tell by looking who among the staff has arranged the cupcakes, cookies, muffins and scones that sit on tiered cake stands in the bakery case. A lady truly after my own heart.
I have a granola addiction.
I love to make it. I love to eat it. At work we’re currently serving up three delicious types: peanut butter & jelly, blueberry & orange and nutty maple. I love all three of them equally and would eat them for every meal of the day if I could.
Problem is, they aren’t (probably) the best thing to eat for every meal of the day. They contain butter. And loads of nuts. Sure there’s fruit involved, but I’m no fool. I know all about granola and it’s ability to pretend to be hippie diet food while really being packed with more fat and calories than an Oregon Sea Salted Caramel Brownie*. Okay, maybe not. But you get the picture.
The other thing I’m addicted to is yogurt. Not long ago I told you about my honey problem. Well, people, yogurt is my new honey. Even if I have six very fine tubs of yogurt at home, I’ll still buy more if I go to the market. It’s like I’m building a bomb shelter and I plan to sustain my family on plain greek-style yogurt until the coast is clear. Or until we run out of yogurt - something that, by the looks of my fridge, would take a while.
Of course (you knew this was coming) I especially love granola + yogurt = together (forever.) As breakfast. As a snack. As lunch. As another snack. Thank god I’m not one of those dairy intolerant (or do they call it sensitive these days?) weirdos people!
The (other) problem is, I’m trying to watch what I eat (ugh) - since my decision to stop drinking so much damn half & half my body underwent a miraculous change and I magically shed twenty pounds. This is excellent news not only because I lost twenty pounds but also because I hate shopping for pants. With that chunk of weight missing from my body I can fit into all my old pants again. And none of them are elastic waisted or made of lycra!
In order to steer clear of pants shopping, I’m doing my best to keep that extra twenty off. This means only one cookie a day instead of six. It means eating less brioche. And it also means limiting my granola intake. Boo hoo.
To get my fix I’ve been adding a sprinkle of toasty oats to my beloved yogurt each morning. While not perfect, and no way near as delicious, it’s a decent substitute. And aligns perfectly with my plan to avoid pants shopping.
By the way, isn’t pants the funniest word? Cracks me up.
Toasted Oats
Makes 1/3 cup
You need:
Toast the oats:
For a larger batch of toasty oats, increase the amount of oats to 2 cups. The cinnamon would bump up to 1 1/2 teaspoons and the oil would go to 1 tablespoon. Combine as described above then spread out on a rimmed baking sheet. Bake in a 300 degree oven until toasted - about 10 minutes or until the oats take on the golden hue of your choosing.
Watch that your oats don’t scorch. Speaking from experience, they can go from perfectly golden to kinda burnt very quickly.
And now! Photos!
*Yes, this is a treat on my bakery menu. Yes, the sea salt is actually from Oregon. Yes, there’s a post coming soon all about it!