Archive for the 'Food' Category



07
Jun
11

Take my Cake — Please

“I can resist everything but temptation.”
—Oscar Wilde

Today is the birthday of my cube mate at work. When I arrived this morning, she alerted me to an Irish whiskey cake she had made and brought to the morning news meeting. “Better go downstairs and get some while it’s still there,” she said.

It was getting rave reviews around the office. “It’s like you bought it at the store,” someone said.

“I made it without eggs and without milk,” she said.

“You made a cake for your own birthday?” I asked.

“Yep,” she said. “And there’s a coffee cake that someone brought in, too.”

I thanked her, but I decided to abstain. I’ve been trying to train myself to understand that, just because food is there, it doesn’t mean I am responsible for eating it. If there are sandwiches left over after a meeting, I do not need to take one with me if I have already had one. If there is a slice of pizza left, I do not need to eat it. Continue reading ‘Take my Cake — Please’

01
Jun
11

Orange Alert

orange

Bon appetit!

From spring through autumn, sidewalk fruit stands are rampant in New York City. It’s great, because warmer temperatures seem to convince us to eat lighter and fresher, and I like having the options. A couple bucks can get you a light and relatively healthy lunch. I should know, I passed by enough of those stands on my way to Chipotle.

However, you can never be sure of the quality or the flavor. And you should really wash that stuff off before you munch on the go. So it’s a good idea to have some alternative reliable sources.

I could always find the best oranges at this little deli on 46th near Broadway, a couple doors down from my office. I don’t work in New York any more, however, and those oranges are among the things I miss most about my routine there. They were consistently easy to peel. And unlike the typically dull, pulpy monstrosities of grocery store fare, these had an intense flavor every time without fail. I don’t know what voodoo those shopkeepers were working. I have no idea where the fruit came from. But no matter the season, they were always awesome.

Having them there kept me from defaulting to a bagel with butter or a two-egg and cheese on a roll. (Though I miss those things dearly, too.) If they didn’t have any oranges in on a given day, I would walk right back out of the store.

So now that I work in Philadelphia, I need to find a new routine, a new source. I don’t yet know where to get a good bagel near the office, and that’s probably for the best.

27
Apr
11

A Mister and Mister Mystery

Mr. and Mrs. Bunny

Alternative lifestyle bunnies are also available as Mr. & Mr. Bunny or Mrs. & Mrs. Bunny.

The Easter Bunny came early to our house this year. A couple of weeks ago FedEx delivered a mysterious package to our house. In the box was an inviting bundle of mylar bubble wrap, shredded paper, packing tape and a card in a sealed envelope. I set aside the card (You only open the card first if someone is looking!) and dug through the packaging to find a melted ice pack and a plastic bag containing two chocolate bunnies.

The bunnies had bright little blue eyes and wore green chocolate overalls. They came packed with some jelly beans and a few foil-wrapped chocolate eggs.

I opened the card — “Happy Easter, Jeff and Eric!” — but there was no sender. Luckily my mom solved the case for me later that day when she left me a voice mail to ask if I received them.

Before I returned her call, I looked up the website of the chocolatier she ordered them from, Gayle’s Chocolates. I didn’t see a pair of bunnies in green overalls, but I did find a similar item: Mr. and Mrs. Bunny, a boy bunny in green, and a girl bunny in a rather silly looking pink and purple cape. Secretly I was glad, because the boy bunny was much cuter than the girl bunny. (But then again, of course I would say that.)

And then I spotted the disclaimer: “Alternative lifestyle bunnies are also available as Mr & Mr Bunny or Mrs & Mrs Bunny.”
Continue reading ‘A Mister and Mister Mystery’

11
Oct
10

Hungry, Hungry Hypocrite?

New York Mayor Michael Bloomberg is getting some guff for pushing to prevent poor families from buying sugary snacks and sodas with food stamps while at the same time offering similar items to employees at his financial firm. This is the height of hypocrisy, some say. (“Mayor’s Soda Plan and His Company’s Policy Differ“)

He has, on the record, served junk food at Gracie Mansion and at events in his townhouse. Further — gasp — he uses salt at home.

So, does this deflate his argument that poor families should not be using food stamps to buy crap for their kids? Not at all.

Bloomberg’s employees are given healthy snacks as well as Coke and Fanta. I agree 100% that it’s a little weird that he gives away soda. His employees are basically a captive audience. They will take what is given to them. Just like families on welfare. They’ll take what’s available to them. So, to align better with his public policy, he should probably do away with the free junk food at work.

Better yet, he should install a vending machine. Then will people have to actually buy the stuff. It would be completely their choice and their responsibility.

If he wants to salt his food and if his employees want to spend their own money on junk food or bring in whatever they buy from elsewhere, let them. But we should not allow poor families to use taxpayer money to buy crap for their kids. Force them to make better choices. Lobby retailers to offer better options.

Food stamps should be used for things that are actually nutritionally beneficial for kids. Anything else is a waste of money and an insult to the taxpayers who fund assistance programs. Food stamps are for food: fruit and vegetables, meat, cheese, bread, milk. Someone at some point has already had to decide what families are allowed to purchase with food stamps. Items have already been vetted and either added to or eliminated from the program. Under further scrutiny, it’s a very excellent idea to cut as much nutritionally void content as we can. A government in the business of assisting its less fortunate citizens has a responsibility to give them access to the good stuff, not some bullshit that’s going to make them worse off.

05
Oct
10

Something Fishy

So, some biotech company called Aqua Bounty made a salmon that grows faster and bigger than normal salmon. The FDA is in the process of approving it, but the U.S. Consumers Union doesn’t trust the research and wants more independent investigation. And furthermore, if the fish is approved for market, they want it to be labeled as a genetically modified food. But the FDA says there’s “no biologically relevant difference” between it and its un-engineered predecessor, so there’s no need to give it any special label. Besides that, argues, Aqua Bounty, if you label it as “genetically modified,” people will be scared away and not buy it.

I don’t know why the genetic modification lobby would be against a label. The stated reason for developing a genetically modified salmon are purely capitalistic: human population growth, increased demand for, um, “fish protein,” and the need to keep production up and costs low. So, act like a capitalist. Put your trust in the market and let the consumers decide if it’s a viable business.

If the genetically modified product is cheaper and there is no difference in quality and people want it, they will buy it, and you’ll have a winner. Congratulations!

If people don’t like it, you have to either work harder to prove it’s the same as naturally occurring fish or just suck it up as a loss. New products fail all the time. Remember Crystal Pepsi?

I don’t have a knee-jerk reaction against genetically modified fish. Humans have been engaging in genetic modification and artificial selection since they stopped roaming the plains, built some tents, and decided to give farming a go. You think God made the vegetables you see at the grocery store? Nope. That dog you have curled in your lap? Sorry. People made them by choosing the stuff they liked and throwing away the stuff they didn’t like. Tampering with nature is just one of our things — and the people who are against GM salmon have been living happily as the products of a society that embraces genetic trickery for generations.

However, we also have the potential to cause great harm with invasive species that can wreck the natural balance — or create a new one.

For that reason, I say label it as what it is. Simple honesty. Any fear of calling it what it is suggests that there’s a reason to be afraid. And don’t be so distrustful of the consumer. If it’s cheaper and it takes good, no one’s going to care anyway.

26
Sep
10

My Tomatoes Ride the Short Bus

We said good-bye to summer last week, and I’ve all but given up my dreams of garden-fresh tomatoes.

We started from seed back in February in little clay pots on the kitchen window sill. It was like a terra cotta maternity ward. I thought we were so clever to get heirloom varieties: a yellow one, a red one with stripes, and a purple one. I wouldn’t remember their funny names, but they would be so colorful! My plan was to choose the strongest, fastest growers, eliminate the rest, and plant a few of them outside.

I built a huge planter box as big as a coffin and transferred five plants around Memorial Day, when they were finally big enough to be moved. In the sunniest section of our garden, they probably got about 7 hours of direct light a day. But even with daily watering, fastidious care and trimming, fighting off slugs, chasing away bugs and alley cats — folding chicken poop into the soil — they didn’t take off until July.

We mixed up the labels on accident, and I forgot which was which, but I figured we’d be able to identify them when the tomatoes ripened into full color. The first little fruit, a lonely green globe of pure joy, came budding out a full two months later.

I was a little embarrassed to tell anyone, because August was so late, but I was proud of my little trooper anyway. His tardiness was surely my fault, not his.

Soon every plant had tomatoes growing, but we didn’t actually eat one until last night. It was that first one. Turned out to be yellow, bright and beautiful as a lemon. It tasted awesome in a salad.

One awesome salad after six months of energy and expense.

Now the plants are ready to give out. They’re starting to self-destruct, cutting off energy to their leaves and turning brown. We should be sick of tomatoes by now, but instead I’m just grateful for whatever I can scrape up.

A few months ago, I thought I might have too many. I had visions of cooking huge pots of sauce to freeze for the winter, sending some home to my mom, leaving little paper bags of tomatoes on neighbors’ doorsteps. Now I’ll be lucky to get a dozen.

So I have accepted it as my personal mission, my calling, to see those green tomatoes through to the end. This garden will not be a failure. I will see them on my dinner plate if it kills me. (At least I’m not likely to die while choking on a tomato.)

Maybe before the frost comes, we’ll see some color out there, and I’ll finally know what I planted.

16
Aug
10

Fear the Schmear

The New York Post can be always be relied upon to deliver the important stories of the day that really make a difference in our harried, overcomplicated lives, such as this nugget about a woman who got tossed out of a Starbucks by the cops after getting into an argument with a barista about the way she was ordering a bagel. (It’s a biggie. It took a team of three reporters to cover it.)

She asked for a “toasted multigrain bagel,” and when the barista asked if she wanted butter or cheese on it, she dug her heels in the dirt and refused to specify or say “neither.” To her way of thinking, there was  no need to use their weird lingo.

“When you go to Burger King,” she told the Post, “you don’t have to list the six things you don’t want.”

No, lady, but when you go to Burger King, you don’t order a flame-grilled quarter-pound hamburger sandwich with mayonnaise, lettuce, tomato, pickles, onion, mustard and ketchup on a sesame seed bun, either. You order a “Whopper.” You use the conventions of the fast-food place you’re in. We all feel like assholes when we order a chalupa, but that’s what Taco Bell calls it. We can’t be responsible for the fool who named it. Just suck it up, and move on. There’s a line behind you.

Continue reading ‘Fear the Schmear’

06
Sep
09

Keep the Change

In New York, one is blessed with good bagels. The best I have found are Kossar’s Bialys on the Lower East Side and Times Square Bagel. There must be dozens of others in the five boroughs, but these are the ones I have made a part of my life.

I found them on accident, between the subway and the office. But you can easily tell which ones are the good ones. The interiors are not clean. Poppy seeds and sesame seeds are scattered across the floor, as if to draw an army of birds. Large salt crystals and flour and flakes of dried garlic and onion. There are no fancy light fixtures or display cases. These places concentrate on the baked goods,not the presentation.

On the way in to work, I stopped at a cafe across the street from my building for a bagel and a banana.

One bland bagel with entirely the wrong texture, plus one banana, which took more energy and expense to transport to New York from the tropics than I can possibly justify with any nutritional benefit, came to a total of $2.50.

He readied his two quarters as I handed over three dollar bills

He dropped the coins into my hand, and before I could walk away, he slipped a bill out of the three I had given him.

He had slightly raised his chin and looked at me down the length of his nose. It was regal or perhaps arrogant. It could even be taken for suspiciousness. Maybe I had given him too much and it was gentle mocking to be more careful with my money.

I reached out and cautiously took it.

Maybe he was mistaken and only thought I had handed him $4 or that the total was really $1.50.

Yes, maybe I was going to end up on top here. Get more than I deserved. Take advantage of someone else’s mistake. I always feel tested in these moments. It was only a dollar. No great loss to him. But what did I think I was getting away with? How petty.

I lingered a bit in this moment, and I decided to say something.

“I gave you three dollars,” I said.

“Yes,” he said.

I raised an eyebrow and cocked my head slightly.

In that moment I realized what that curious look on his face had meant. He was not making an error, nor had I given him too much. His grand expression was one of serene endowment. I am giving this to you, he seemed to say.

“Buy Lotto,” he said. “350 million.”

I’m accustomed to bartenders buying me the odd drink. But I’m not a regular at this cafe. Why would he give me a buck?

Maybe he knows how crappy his bagels are.

Why would he give me a buck? Why not?

06
May
09

Not Quite Gay Enough

My office conducted its second annual bake-off last week. As if a bake-off isn’t gay enough, ours is now annual. And it inspires some fierce competition.

Last year we had two teams. It was the programming department versus the online production department. This year, we had so many people take interest that there were three teams.

2009 Bake-Off
That’s me in the back of the second team, striking the Charlie’s Angels pose with an electric mixer. This is what gay cable networks get up to when no one is looking — in case you were wondering. I wonder what Bravo does.

The rules are simple: We are each to make a sweet dessert, each one containing at least three ingredients and yielding at least 15 servings. And we must bring out own serving implements.

The entire staff may vote once for the desserts they think are the best in three categories: Gayest, Most Original and Outrageous, and Best Overall. The team with the most accumulated points among its members wins.

My boss and I teamed up last year to win the Best Overall with deep-fried apple pies. He made the dough, and I made the filling and schlepped the deep-fryer. And our team won. So this year it was a grudge match for Programming.

I briefly considered some heinous concoction or other from a ’50s-era, Good Housekeeping, Lutheran church basement pot-luck social cookbook. Something with lime Jell-O, marshmallows, cottage cheese and mustard. Or something. But the online department had a theme: All our desserts were to contain some sort of booze. We called ourselves Alco-Locas, our not-subtle tribute to Nina Flowers.

Grasshopper brownies with creme de menthe seemed a bit more palatable, but it didn’t seem gay enough. I wanted something a bit more fancy-pants and challenging. So I settled on a friend’s suggestion, Lillet-flavored marshmallows.

Lillet marshmallows
We called them ‘Get Lillet’d Marshmallows’

For shits and giggles I made them pink and cut them into triangles. How gay can you get?

Apparently it wasn’t gay enough.

A chocolate-and-nut confection rolled in coconut won Gayest. Yummy Balls they were called. How coarse! Can you believe it? Over pink marshmallow triangles — flavored with a French wine aperitif!

Well, I have to hand it to my proud and worthy competitor for a well-named dessert. People just couldn’t get enough of his balls. So many people had his balls in their mouth that day. Coworkers would ask each other if they’d had his balls yet.

And so on…

Here are a few of the notable competitors.

2009 Bake-Off competitors
From top left, clockwise: Yummy Balls, Macadamia Nut Pie, 80-Proof Irish Car Bomb Gay-teaux, Eat My Cookie Cocktail, Tarte au Citron, Poached Pears in Red Wine with Lime Mousse.

Team 3, “Sons of Batches,” won in a delicious upset with the most accumulated points. But the Programming department had the most individual winning desserts. And Online… well, let’s just say we got served.

Best Overall Dessert was a tie this year between the Poached Pears and the Irish Car Bomb Gay-teaux. (Those cupcakes sure packed a wallop!)

Most Original and Outrageous went to a dessert involving a ginger-sugar rimmed champagne-ginger cocktail and a gingersnap. The Eat My Cookie Cocktail. Yes, it was very ginger. Very precious. Like me, its maker was disappointed he didn’t get Gayest. But I do absolutely think he deserves the title he got.

Some other notable entries included:

  • Benedictine Ice Cream Sandwiches with Peanut Butter Cookie Tops and Bottoms (Quite a mouthful!)
  • Cumquat Galettes and Cherry Dark Chocolate Galettes With Homemade Ice Cream (Note the intentional, naughty misspelling. Can you get away with this where you work?)
  • Guinness “Bottoms Up” Brownies
  • Tira-mi-so-horny

I’m already studying up for next year. I can see I’m gonna have to pull out the big guns. It’s gonna involve fire. Baked Alaska? Cherries Jubilee, anyone?

27
Jan
09

No Vegetables After Midnight

At a diner in center city Philadelphia, the Midtown III Diner and Cocktail Lounge, a friend of mine was recently seated for an after-hours snack. As he picked up the menu, the waitress told him gruffly, “No vegetables after midnight.”

I wonder if that includes french fries and ketchup, or if he was forced to choke down a plate of bacon and liverwurst.




the untallied hours