5 second rule

Conundrum

No one wants to think about this stuff, so we generally don't.  I don't want to think about it either. 

But when you read a front page article called "The Burger That Shattered Her Life" in a venerable newspaper, and it uses terms like "E. coli," "convulsions," and "paralyzed," you think about it whether you want to or not.  Sunday's New York Times article (apologies if you can't access) had, as its central thesis, these points: Eating ground beef is a gamble.  And consumers have been misled about the process that gets it from the cows to our tables.

Highlights, or, really, low points, include these statement from the article:

• The country's largest private company, a major meat producer, made $116.6 billion in revenue last year.  To make some of its frozen hamburgers, it mixes slaughterhouse trimmings, scraps, and "a mashlike product" from multiple U.S. states, and even foreign countries.  So your patty may not have come from a single animal, or a single continent.  Further, low-grade ingredients, the article states, "are cut from areas of the cow that are more likely to have had contact with feces, which carries E. coli, industry research shows."

• "Ground beef is not a completely safe product," says a food safety expert at the University of Minnesota.

• The potential for contamination at slaughterhouses is "present every step of the way" and "the cattle often arrive with smears of feedlot feces that harbor the E. coli pathogen."

• A food safety officer at a company that grinds 365 million pounds of hamburger a year said it "stopped testing trimmings [for E. coli] a decade ago because of resistance from slaughterhouses."

• An official with the USDA's Food Safety and Inspection Service "said the department could mandate testing [of ingredients before grinding], but it needed to consider the impact on companies as well as consumers."  (True, testing requirements could unfairly burden small, and responsible, companies.)  The USDA has therefore continued to permit companies to "devise their own safety programs." 

I'm not going to tell you to stop eating mass-produced ground beef; you can make that choice for yourself.  But I, as a consumer, now have to determine what my own personal choice will be, for myself and for my family.

I refuse to be the neurotic mom who bans the maraschino cherry from an occasional sundae.  I refuse to make my kids crazy about whether their friends' parents serve them organic or conventional milk at playdates.  And I refuse to let them worry about the sugary snack bar doled out after soccer.  These things are not going to scar my children; my neuroses might.

So what does a responsible person, a responsible parent, do with information like that above?  Ban hamburgers?  Tell your kids they can't get a post-game burger at the Little League field? Become that parent -- the one who's so worried about nitrates or trans fats or E. coli -- that her kids are scared to put anything in their mouths unless mom is there to green-light it?

I make a concerted effort to keep these things out of my house, and I fight for better choices and healthier options and more transparency, but I do not want to become that parent.  I do not want my children to be afraid.

And yet, after reading the ground beef expose, I've completely lost what little appetite I had for even the occasional frozen burger of unknown origin.  But what do I do about the kids?  How do I not make them crazy?

Uneasiness

You're wondering what you're looking at, so I'm going to tell you before I go into the meat of today's post.  Scharffen Berger Chocolate was one of several BlogHer Food sponsors, and in conjunction with pastry chef Elizabeth Falkner of San Francisco's Citizen Cake they set up three huge chocolate boxes filled with a crazy assortment of ingredients: corn nuts, cake, marshmallow, pretzels, and about 573 other things that sound completely incongruous but actually created a pretty tasty, if disgusting looking, concoction.  Attendees were handed latex gloves and encouraged to scoop up the mess and shove it in their mouths.  It was kind of like being a doctor during the world's most bizarre proctological exam. 

That's Marla of Family Fresh Cooking, an adorable little woman who went at it shamelessly.  I was worried she might fall in the box.

Anyway, this leads to the topic of today's post: corporate sponsorship. 

I hate, hate, hate being marketed to.  I switch radio stations when commercials come on, mute ads on TV, and can't stand blogs that serve as thinly veiled PR pitches.  But the issue isn't as clear as "pitching products is always wrong." 

Consider how I opened this post.  With pictures of a cleverly created advertising campaign from Scharffen Berger.  Because SB is savvy -- they created a fun, unique, interactive, and edible exhibit at a big foodie convention to showcase their brand and get people talking.  And I like SB chocolate.  And the pictures came out well.  So, there, I posted about it.

But in so doing I also feel dirty.  Dirty because I am giving free press to a large, wealthy company (SB is owned by Hershey), and what am I getting in return? A scoop of chocolate with corn nuts in it. The trade-off hardly seems fair. And yet the alternative -- that SB would pay me to endorse their product on my blog -- is even more distasteful, because then I would be doing a disservice to you, my readers.  So it’s an uneasy relationship.  Yes, they helped defray the cost of the conference, and I am grateful as an attendee, but it still makes me uncomfortable to put up a giant link to their site on my blog.

I'm not above this; I'm struggling with it.

Elizabeth Falkner is another story because she is, presumably, a paid corporate spokesperson.  She's a pastry chef.  She's very likable.  I enjoy her cupcakes.  So for her to work as a spokesperson for a high-end chocolate company makes sense to me, especially if she actually uses their products.  She also came to the after-party at BlogHer Food.  And though I enjoyed meeting her, I couldn't help but wonder: was she contractually obligated to be there?  Was she chatting with me, and other attendees, because she was paid to? I honestly don't know.

What bugged me about the Smocco Disclirito thing was that it felt so incredibly inauthentic.  Here's this very high profile celebrity chef, and now he's hawking frozen food and telling us, wide-eyed, that he really, truly believes it is the Best Product Ever.  At the same time, on his Twitter account, he writes things like "I have eliminated all white flour, rice and sugar and anything that has a high glycemic load."  I just don't know how that jibes with being a spokesperson for frozen pasta. 

So here are my questions for you: How do you feel about corporate sponsors? Celebrity-driven ad campaigns? If you’re a blogger, do you think twice before endorsing someone’s product?  Do you sometimes feel like a marionette, one whose strings are subtly manipulated by deeper pockets? 

If you’re a non-blogging reader, please let me know how you feel when I link to a product – to a cheese, or a cookbook, or a brand of rice I use in my recipes.  Does it piss you off, or provide a service?

Go.

Wine

From yesterday's New York Times:

Two studies published this month in the journal Gastroenterology suggest that people who drink wine, white or red, in moderation are less likely to develop conditions that may lead to esophageal adenocarcinoma, an uncommon cancer that has increased sharply in the United States over the past 30 years...

Okay, so a little wine is good for me.  Of course.

Or is it?

From the Washington Post 10 days ago:

A new study involving nearly 1.3 million middle-aged British women -- the largest ever to examine alcohol and cancer in women -- found that just one glass of chardonnay, a single beer, or any other type of alcoholic drink per day increases the risk for a variety of cancers...

I'm not angry.  I'm not out to blame scientists or journalists or health professionals.  I'm genuinely, truly concerned that I don't understand what the hell is going on with all the alcohol talk.  I honestly thought, after reading countless articles over the years about the benefits of the Mediterranean diet and the endless patter about red wine's antioxidants and ability to raise HDL (good) cholesterol, that a single drink a night was not only not bad for me, but actually good for me.

And for you, too, of course.

But the science is evolving so rapidly it's nearly impossible to keep up, and with so many contradictory studies I have no idea how we can intelligently parse the varied recommendations.  No simple sound bite or sexy headline fits.

The American Heart Association, for one, is very clear on its website today that if you don't already consume alcohol, you shouldn't start.  (Assuming your goal is heart health.)  The bolding is theirs:

Given [the] risks, the American Heart Association cautions people NOT to start drinking... if they do not already drink alcohol.  Consult your doctor on the benefits and risks of consuming alcohol in moderation.

The AHA also says:

No direct comparison trials have been done to determine the specific effect of wine or other alcohol on the risk of developing heart disease or stroke.

This last part surprised me.  No studies have been done?  I could have sworn I've been reading about these studies for years.

I rarely drank before moving to California, but everyone here drinks wine and I've started to, too, with some regularity.  I always felt fine about it, assuming that in addition to enjoying the flavor with my food I was doing something beneficial for my body as well.

Given my own familial risk of cancer, and in light of this recent study, perhaps I need to rethink this assumption. 

More from the Washington Post:

"Even among women who consumed as little as 10 grams of alcohol a day on average -- the equivalent of about one drink -- the risk for cancer of the breast, liver and rectum was elevated, the researchers found."

So ... do we safeguard our esophagus, or our heart?  Mind our breasts, or our HDL?

Or ignore the information altogether and sip the Syrah?

Mandarinquats

Are you sick of Valentine's Day already?  Because if I knew you well, I'd admit to you, privately, that I'm kind of sick of it.  Maybe because I spent 3 hours yesterday baking little cookies for my sons' friends' valentines.  Maybe because every blogger from here to Micronesia is writing about chocolate and flowers and hallmarky sweetness.  I just can't put my game face on today.  Tomorrow I'll put it on, but today I'm feeling a bit acerbic.

Can you tell?

I found these ridiculous little fruits at Trader Joe's called Mandarinquats, and they're matching my mood perfectly. 

They're a mandarin/kumquat hybrid -- wincingly acidic and filled with big seeds that you can spit directly into the sink when no one's looking.  As with regular kumquats, you can eat the peel, too.  I bought them on a lark because I thought the name was hilarious, but not in a funny ha-ha way, just in a "Really?" kind of way.  I know you know what I mean.

And in an effort to improve my mood and add a little sweetness to my day, I caramelized them, stringing threads of hardened sugar all over my kitchen in the process.

Excellent.  That'll be a hoot to clean up. 

So now I have candied, caramelized mandarinquats, and I can tell you this: I never, in my entire life, thought I would write the sentence, "I have candied, caramelized mandarinquats." 

Ever.

Paired with some vanilla ice cream and just a sprinkling of shaved dark chocolate, it's Valentine's Day-ish, but with an edge.  A sharp edge.

Perfect for today.

Tomorrow, sunshine and lollipops!

...

Recipe for Candied, Caramelized Mandarinquats

Citrusy and with a face-contorting tartness, mandarinquats are great to eat alone or to pair with ice cream.  If you leave them at room temperature, the caramel will harden into candy.  If you refrigerate them, the caramel will liquify.  Both ways taste unique and delicious.  And yes, you can certainly use kumquats instead.

Serves about 4

6-8 mandarinquats or kumquats, sliced, seeded

3/4 cup sugar

1/2 cup water

Vanilla ice cream and shaved dark chocolate for serving, if desired

Place the sliced fruit and any residual juice in a bowl.  Place a silpat on a rimmed baking sheet.  Set both aside.

In a small saucepan, preferably enameled cast iron and certainly heavy and sturdy, combine the sugar and water.  Swirl lightly to combine, then set over medium high heat.  Cook, without stirring, for about 15 minutes, or until the mixture turns deep amber and begins to smell like caramel.

(Note that the time it takes for sugar to caramelize varies widely and depends on your stove and your cookware.  Just don't walk away or answer the phone or you risk having a burnt mess on your hands.  Also be very, very careful as caramel burns are no laughing matter.)

As soon as the sugar caramelizes, remove the pot from the heat and carefully add the fruit and juice.  Give a quick stir with a heatproof spatula and turn out onto the lined baking sheet.  The mixture will immediately begin to harden in spots.

Allow to continue hardening, or scrape into a bowl once cooled and store in the fridge.  Serve, if desired, with vanilla ice cream and shaved chocolate, or eat straight up.

printable pdf

Recommendations

Okay, first of all, my internet, phone line, and cable have all been down for the past 3 hours. 

I know.

I could live without the phone and cable indefinitely, but asking me to make do without internet is a bit much.  I had the major DTs and wandered my house looking for non-electronic things to do.  I ended up cleaning out my kitchen's junk drawer/spice cabinet, a horror show of colorful powders, stale seeds, and mangled twist ties.  Oh, I found rubber bands, about 500 pens, 6 dried out highlighters, 14 mismatched post-its, 4 pairs of scissors, 3 box cutters, 2 turtle doves and a partridge in a pear tree.

It actually felt really good to get organized.  I also did a little laundry, but I assume you have no interest in the minutiae of my clothes-washing habits.  If I'm wrong, you've got bigger problems than I'm qualified to solve.

Still down.  Still down.  Couldn't check email, post pithy comments on the blog, waste time on Facebook.  Couldn't work on my articles because I needed internet access for my research.  What to do?

Well, cook, given that it's nearly Thanksgiving, yadda yadda yadda. So I roasted up some turkey drumsticks for stock/gravy, made my favorite Thanksgiving Mashed Sweet Potatoes with Pecan Crumble, and threw together a batch of no-knead bread dough. 

But I've got to be perfectly frank with you: I still haven't picked a turkey recipe, OR a stuffing recipe.  I'm leaving those two to the last minute because I can never decide which way to go.  So help a girl out, please.  Today I'm asking YOU for your favorite turkey and/or stuffing recipes and recommendations.  You can either post a link or just describe the dish below. 

And while you're at it, I'm in desperate need of some new songs for my iPod.  One can only listen to Within Your Reach, Train in Vain, Brandy (You're a Fine Girl), or Someday, Someway so many times without one's head exploding.  Can somebody please bring me into this decade?

So, to recap your assignment, I need:

-your favorite (tried and true, please) turkey ideas; and/or

-your favorite (tried and true, please) stuffing ideas; and/or

-3 recommendations for my iPod, preferably for songs released since the turn of the millennium.

Ready, go.

Civility

Shrimp is a shellfish.  Avocado is a fruit masquerading as a vegetable.  Sour cream is a dairy product.  Corn tortillas are a grain.  Somehow, even though they have little in common, these four foods from different backgrounds manage to get along just fine.

Why are people so consistently unable to do the same?

A house across the street from my kids' elementary school has an enormous yellow political banner draped across its front.  It's huge. The message is loud and clear and relates to one of the California propositions.  (No, it's not Prop 2.) 

Now, I don't know this family, but I saw the mom yesterday when I walked past the house. I said hello, as did she.  We smiled.  Her dog came up and wagged its tail at me.  Friendly lady.  Friendly dog.

And I couldn't possibly disagree with her politics more.  I think she's dead wrong on this issue.  But I do respect her right to drape a ridiculously large banner across her house, if that's what she feels she needs to do.  It's her property, and she obviously feels strongly about this issue. 

I'm still going to say hello to her, smile, and pet her dog.  That's what people in a community do, right? Whether or not they share the same values?

This morning, I walked by the house again.  Someone had parked a white van in front of her walkway.  The van's back window was painted, in enormous white letters, with the words "BIGOTS LIVE HERE" and an arrow pointing toward her house.  The side window proclaimed, "God hates haters," a pointed reference because the family, from what I've heard, is devout.

Now as much as I disagree with this woman's political stance, I am sickened, SICKENED that someone feels it's appropriate to park a car in front of her house, label her a bigot, and express this vitriol in front of an elementary school.  I assume the car's owner has a legal right to do this since it's parked on a public street, but who in their right mind thinks this is the best way to express political disagreement?

I know this post isn't much about food today, but sometimes I wonder what's happened to civil society.

Have a taco, and consider bringing one to your neighbors.  Whether you agree with their politics or not.

Sponsorship

I heard about this on NPR last weekend and thought it was a joke.  It wasn't.

An assistant professor at the University of Montana brokered a deal with a local taco joint called El Diablo to sponsor his U.S. history class.  On the first day of class, the professor displayed El Diablo's logo on a projector screen, handed out El Diablo stickers, mentioned the business in class and printed its logo on the course syllabus.  In return, the restaurant paid the history department $250.

Here's some context from the local paper, the Missoulian:

Last June, the [history] department ran out of paper and toner for the copying machine...  Professors had to ride out the rest of the semester without printing or making copies.  'We're struggling for basic everyday needs,' [the professor] said, because of the rising cost of school supplies.

The professor learned after the fact that his actions violated departmental policy and promised to conform to the rules in the future.  But he still maintains that the university should allow advertising in the classroom.

(The university's attorney disagrees.)

Is it me, or does this just raise all the hairs on the back of your neck?  I'm waiting for my friend Andrew-the-econ-professor to weigh in because I'd love to know what he thinks.

If we let El Diablo into the classroom, how long will it take before big national chains and food companies follow suit?  They're already in the stadiums.

I can see it now.  "Welcome to Nutrition 101.  Today's discussion on sugars and fats is sponsored by Biffy's Donuts, the softest, freshest donuts in town."

Seriously?

Doctor, my eyes
Tell me what is wrong
Was I unwise to leave them open for so long
-- Jackson Browne, 1972

I think my local newspaper has lost its mind.  Dropped off its rocker.  Fallen and can't get up.  I seriously question the sanity of whoever is now in charge of the food section.

Let me begin by saying, in all seriousness, that the San Jose Mercury News gave me my first break in the food writing world.  It published my first two food articles ever, and for that I will always be grateful.

And the economy is terrible.  And the newspaper industry is suffering.  And the Merc is really, really suffering, particularly the now bare-bones Food section which is pulling nearly all its content off the wire services.  I know they're looking for a new writer, and I hope they find him or her soon.  Very, very, very soon.  Actually sooner, if yesterday's Food section is any indication of where things are headed.  (I responded to an ad saying I'd be happy to contribute freelance content, but I'm not expecting many calls after this blog post.)

Which brings me to Marshmallow Fluff.  

The top-of-the-fold headline of yesterday's Food section blares: "Lunch lessons" and then "What will get your kid excited about the brown bag? Ask a squirrel."  Okay, fine, so it's another article about how to jazz up kids' lunches.  Anyone who has read a food magazine, newspaper, or foodie website (including this one) knows that school lunches are a hot topic in early September.  The focus is generally on how we can make kids' lunches more creative and more healthful -- by incorporating more fruits, vegetables, and whole grains.  (See last week's article in the SF Chronicle.)

So, yesterday's article offered 8 ideas for getting creative with peanut butter.

Here's 1 of my 2 favorite recipes:

Fluffy: Mix 1/4 cup each of marshmallow fluff and creamy peanut butter with 1 tablespoon corn syrup.  Spread on mini-pitas, top with strawberry pieces.  Makes 8 mini-pitas.

Wow, I mean, where do I begin with this?  Let me say I've eaten a few Fluffernutter sandwiches in my time (back in the 80s), and all my memories are good.  But never in my wildest dreams, in my richest, most preposterous fantasies, did it occur to me to add corn syrup to a Fluffernutter sandwich.  Here's what's in Fluff already: corn syrup, sugar syrup, vanilla flavor, egg white. 

Oh, well, I could see why it might not be sweet enough. 

My second favorite recipe suggestion is this:

Indulgent: Melt 2 tablespoons of semisweet chocolate chips and stir into an ounce of cream cheese and 1/4 cup peanut butter.  Pair with all-fruit spread (try black cherry) on bagels.  Serves 4.

SO, let's see, we need cream cheese, and peanut butter, and melted chocolate chips, and, just to make sure it's sweet enough since melted chocolate can be kind of, I don't know, ascetic, some fruit spread.  In other words, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with cream cheese and melted chocolate.  For your kid's lunchbox.

Here's my question: If you give your kids the Fluffy on Monday and the Indulgent on Tuesday, what are you going to send on Wednesday?  A box of sugar cubes with melted chocolate dipping sauce and a sippy cup of corn syrup?

Seriously?

Shrinkage

Oh my God, it's true.  Packages are getting smaller, and many of us aren't even noticing.

This article in the New York Times explains what's going on.  Remember those half-gallons of ice cream that so seductively perched in your grocer's freezer?  A relic, apparently.  Many top brands are now offering a quart and a half or a quart and three quarters rather than the standard 64 ounce (half gallon) size.  And you'd better believe there's no blaring seal affixed to the container screaming, "Now! With less ice cream!"

When I read the article, I only half believed it.  But walking through my local supermarket yesterday brought the reality home.  We're either paying more for the same quantity of food, or we're paying less for, well, less.  Which is better?

I'm a stickler for transparency.  The more knowledge, the better.  Not that I can fault Breyer's ($4.99/1.75 quarts) or Dreyer's ($4.99/1.5 quarts) for coming up with a clever solution to make the out-of-pocket price look more reasonable.  Like us, manufacturers are up a creek without a paddle, and it's our responsibility as consumers to look closely at the per unit price.  But I'd rather feel the sting of the sticker shock up front and deal with it rather than scratch my head, wondering if my ice cream is really more expensive or if I'm simply getting fewer scoops per carton. 

I've become that crazy lady in the market, emitting ever-more-audible "oh my gods" as I push my cart through the aisles.  At Trader Joe's, which doesn't seem to be playing this game (to my knowledge), 12 ounces of Organic Grade B maple syrup has been increasing steadily in price.  It's now $7.99/bottle.  But the bottle still holds 12 ounces, which I appreciate.  I've started buying less syrup, and will continue to do so until the price comes down.

I suppose people who only have, say, $50 to spend on groceries per week may feel like they're benefiting, in a roundabout way, from the smaller-packaging system.  They can still spend their $50 and continue to get the same variety of products as they did before, albeit fewer ounces' worth. 

But it's all a shell game, isn't it?

Morels/Morals

If you go to a restaurant, and it's simply not as good as you'd hoped, how do you react?  Do you start sending food back when it disappoints?  Do you mention your dashed expectations to a manager?  Or do you suck it up, pay your bill, and chalk up the experience to the inherent risks we all take when dining out?  Perhaps it depends on your mood, your age, the price point of the restaurant, or whether you're trying to impress your dining companion. 

Perhaps it depends on all of the above.

I used to be a complainer.  I think I was fair, but I was taught that when customers paid hard-earned money for a meal, they had a right to food prepared just the way they liked.  But I've moderated this stance somewhat as I've gotten older. The more I eat out (and I ate out a lot as a reviewer), the more I've come to accept that my tastes have gotten fussier and harder to please.  This isn't necessarily the restaurant's "fault."  If the curry isn't spicy enough, it may just not be spicy enough for me.  I won't send it back, but I also won't order it again.

An out of town friend recently visited me in San Jose.  We met for dinner at a popular restaurant in a chi chi neighborhood.  Entrees floated above $20.  I'd had a mediocre lunch there a few years earlier, but we decided to give it another shot.

Mistake.

Both of our soups were awful.  My friend sent hers back, as well as her Diet Coke because it tasted funny.  I couldn't eat more than 3 spoonfuls of my soup.  But I felt torn: I'd ordered a carrot vichyssoise, which is a weird thing for me to have ordered in the first place.  Cold creamy carrot soup with truffle oil?  I should have known better. I pushed the bowl aside.  The waitress noticed it immediately, but after expressing appropriate sympathy for our two previous complaints, she whisked my full soup bowl away without asking what was wrong.  I don't blame her.

On to the entrees.  Because I'm someone who often makes entree selections based on the accompaniments, when I saw a lamb dish with morels I pounced.  It sounded great on paper.

But the lamb arrived sans morels.  Standard white buttons took their place. 

Now, morels are an unusual, specialty mushroom.  They're expensive, and rare, depending on the season.  They're fancy.  Plus, they're what convinced me to order the overpriced lamb dish in the first place. 

I was annoyed.  Did they not think I'd notice? 

So, my questions: Do you think this was an honest mistake in the kitchen, where a cook simply placed the wrong kind of mushrooms on the plate?  (The manager's explanation.)

Or, do you think this popular, overpriced restaurant regularly sends out cheap button mushrooms and wagers that only 1 in 5 customers (pick your odds) will speak up?

Or, perhaps, the kitchen usually sends out morels but ran out just this once?

What would you have done if you'd been at our table, given the entire context of our meal? Let's have a discussion about the moral of my morel bait-and-switch.

After your comments are in, I'll leave a final comment with how things played out.