As I was reading Squirrel: The Perfect Low-Fat Local Meat this morning on Epicurious, I could help but wonder – will the squirrel soon be the main draw for Brooklyn butchery classes, as it has been with rabbits? Do I really want my neighbors hunting Pierogi, my backyard squirrel? No sir. No sir, I do not.
Archive for April, 2010
They might as well rename it “Hello, Creepy,” because that’s exactly how you’ll feel purchasing Hello Kitty wine, from the moment you ask the sales clerk where to find it, right through to the cash register ring-up, where they will encircle the neck of your bottle with a pendant suitable for a six-year-old. Nothing makes you feel like a pedophile faster than buying a bottle of Hello Kitty Wine.
Kara Newman on SeriousEats, reviewing Hello Kitty Rose.
Normally I would try to find something shut-uppable, but the weather is so nice here in NYC, it’s Friday, and Ms. Newman cracked me up with this opener.
As long as it’s locally sourced, of course.
It is the tyranny of the ingredient. No longer is a successful dish on the American menu about a successful sum of its parts; it is about the parts themselves. Each ingredient is held up and examined like a precisely cut diamond.
Torani Bacon Syrup
“I’ll have a skim grande bacon latte, please.”
(Thanks to Marie for the tip!)
First the Peace Corps, then AmeriCorps, and now: Food Corps. A group of foodies including the Center for Food and Justice at Occidental College and the Community Food Security Coalition, as well as Curt Ellis, the guy who made King Corn, have formed a coalition:
The vision for FoodCorps is to recruit young adults for a yearlong term of public service in school food systems. Once stationed, FoodCorps members will build Farm to School supply chains, expand food system and nutrition education programs, and build and tend school food gardens.
The ultimate goal of the project is to increase the health and prosperity of vulnerable children, while investing in the next generation of farmers.
You can read more about it on their site, or this Washington Post piece. I love the idea of bands of foodies roaming the streets, taking on the school lunch villains across the land! Maybe they can do some practice skirmishes with the Mission: Ready folks. Battlestations!
[image: the top part of a KFC bucket done in pink instead of red]
Today in pinkwashing:
So while KFC is not really a haunt of choice for most foodies, I assume, unless it’s “ironic” or something, this does fit right into my annoyance with foodieism-as-moral-virtue. Buy your disgusting factory-farmed super-greasy chicken in a pink bucket and feel good about it! You’re helping fight breast cancer!
I mean, I get the idea of this kind of thing—you can spend your money on something you’d buy anyway and contribute to a good cause as well as buy the thing you needed anyway. Sure. Ace. But really? KFC? (Also bonus points for, um, sexism: chicken breasts to fight breast cancer?)
Poor form, Raspberry Eggplant. Poor. Form.
Pardon me, I just vomited in my original Double Down.
As a full-figured cat, I’ve had my share of food issues over the years. It seems like no matter what I do, it’s hard to lose weight. For one thing, I’m a compulsive eater. Loud noise? I will eat. Raining? Maybe just a little kibble. Just woke up from a nap? Better check the bowl. If there’s no food, I’ll just eat paper or drive everyone crazy by knocking things over and meowing pitifully nonstop.
It’s really hard because I live with my girlfriend Monster, who is one of those cats who can eat whatever she wants and not gain weight. Her food is up on a windowsill that I can’t reach—when I see her up there eating, it just reminds me of my failures. And I want to eat.
I’ve been working on portion control and got one of those bowls with a timer that feeds me once per day. But I’ve always had trust issues—the timer is set to go off at 6 am, but every morning at about 5:30, I get so worked up at the thought that the battery might be dead or the feeder might be empty that I wake everyone up by MEOWING A LOT and sticking my paw into various mouths if that doesn’t work. I still haven’t lost much weight.
Being a fat cat is no fun. People have no qualms making fun of my size to my face. It’s like they can’t even see my great personality or how freaking cuddly I am. Noo, it’s all about fat cat shaming. Look, you don’t know what my life was like before I came to live here. I have issues.
So when I heard about a Tufts University study (yes I heard about it—cats can’t read) that found many diet pet foods have inaccurate information and may even lead to weight gain, well, it made me feel a little better about the whole thing.
Time now a little nosh before I go back to sleep.