Pint and Fork

Dies irae, dies illa

2008-07-27T19:53:00.000-07:00

If I was dumbfounded when I was invited to join the Facebook group "Petition to Keep Starbucks in Marshfield, WI," I shouldn't have been. There is a whole movement at work called Save Our Starbucks that seeks to prevent impending store closings. I've never been one to cheer as people lose their jobs and as businesses close their doors for the last time, but I've had mixed feelings about the Starbucks in my hometown since it opened several years ago.

For those who haven't heard, Starbucks announced on July 1 that they would close 600 of their "underperforming" stores. Six locations in Wisconsin are on the list, including the one in Marshfield (PDF, 84 kb).

At the time of this posting, the Facebook group has 373 members who presumably support the group's mission. It was founded by Stephanie Weyerts. In particular, they encourage people to call a Starbucks customer service number to ask the company to reconsider closing store 9808. There is also, apparently, a petition that is available to be signed at the store itself.

One could point out fairly mundane flaws with this group's raison d'etre. For example, in the "Description" field for the group, they say:

So my Mom called the main office at 1-800-235-2883... (the store # is 9808)

And what they told her is amazingly great news if you are addicted to Starbucks like me lol. If enough people call and complain about it closing they will consider keeping it OPEN!!!

Starbucks, as a company that's interested in making more money than less money, undoubtedly based its store closures on financial data and is therefore highly unlikely to change its mind because of customer complaints. Since the corporate decision was based on data rather than spite, the proper response should be to frequent it more often and/or spend more money per visit. Mere complaints do not change the basic calculus at play.

Moreover, the description seems to contradict itself when it says:

BESIDES I DON'T WANT THE ONE IN TARGET! I LOVE THE DRVE-THRU! Just the whole experiance of hanging out at the store and being able to read or play on your laptop is something you couldn't really do at the target one.

If Ms. Weyerts just goes through the drive-through, does the store's ambience actually matter?

Rather, I'm more interested in the Starbucks-centricity of the group's mission, the impact on the Marshfield community, and what a coffee shop should be.

The author of the description says:

You know how long I had to wait for a Starbucks to open when we moved here from Washington state??? And now they are trying to take it away?

Marshfield has other coffee shops, such as the Daily Grind and the Coffee Cabin. The perception of coffee quality is subjective in practice, but I've long considered the coffee at the Daily Grind to be of very high quality. I may find fault with the fact that the Daily Grind serves flavored coffees in addition to regular and decaffeinated selections, but this objection is more philosophical than practical (I believe food should taste like what it is, and coffee never has a strong fake raspberry flavor naturally). To the best of my ability to discern differences in quality, I disagree with claims that Starbucks coffee is superior to the quality at other coffee shops in Marshfield.

In addition to considerations of quality alone, the Daily Grind and the Coffee Cabin are local coffee shops. When you spend money there, more of your money stays in the community; it doesn't get sent to some corporate headquarters. This means that the owner and staff of these local coffee shops can invest this money back into the community, both directly (by sourcing items locally) and indirectly (by spending paychecks at local businesses).

The Daily Grind opened shop in Marshfield years ahead of the Starbucks at a time when most of us thought of coffee as a hot, bitter beverage made by mixing hot water and Folgers Instant Coffee Crystals. The opening of the Grind opened our eyes to the world of coffee by brewing the coffees of the world. In the early 90s, there was a certain audacity in having a chalk board that said what coffee was being brewed that day. More often than not, they were labeled by place. It never occured to me back then that there was such a thing as kinds of coffee, but I began to notice that the coffee from New Guinea was very different from the coffee from Columbia. As such, the Daily Grind stands at the forefront of a local coffee revolution to many people in Marshfield. Without this pioneering work, it would be inconceivable that Starbucks would even consider opening shop in town.

Given the fondness I have for the Grind, I worry about the consequences of Starbucks closing on other coffee shops. On face value, the loss of a major competitor would seem to be a benefit to the remaining businesses. However, a much-discussed article in Slate last year argued that Starbucks in general has a positive impact on local coffee shops. The idea is that Starbucks, with its elite image and megalithic advertising capabilities, spreads and serves as a magnet for coffee culture wherever it expands. When people approach a Starbucks and see a local alternative next-door, they are likely to choose the alternative.

Anecdotally, something similar could be at play here. The Coffee Cabin moved closer to the Starbucks and has remained in business for several years despite being less than a quarter mile down the road from a Starbucks drive-through. I have no data to support such a claim, but it is reasonable to think that for people want a latte on the way to work they are simply choosing the less expensive option at the Coffee Cabin. It is also possible that the change of location was designed to place it on the right-side of the road on the way into Marshfield, making it a more convenient stop for people on their way to work.

The real price of coffee is probably closer to the prices at Starbucks than many of its competitors. Despite the high prices we pay for "black gold" (the coffee I buy from Alterra via Barriques Market sells for about $9/pound), little of that money goes to the people who produce the coffee (10-50/lb cents is typical, or a minimum of $1.26/lb for Fair Trade). In an ideal world, the high prices paid at a coffee shop would go to better trained baristas and more ethical sourcing of coffee. At Starbucks, however, neither of these factors seem to be applicable. Starbucks, in an effort to standardize quality, uses a machine to make its espresso drinks, meaning that the quality of their latte isn't related to the training of the barista. Also, as only 6% of their coffee is fair trade their sourcing is inferior to regional roasters such as Alterra, Just Coffee, and Intelligentsia despite having higher or similar prices.

To be honest, I don't know who roasts coffee for the Daily Grind or the Coffee Cabin. It may well turn out that none of it is sourced through Fair Trade standards. If that's the case, it would be better for growers to have the increased sales from Starbucks than the alternatives but the difference in 6% and 0% in a town of Marshfield's size may not be significant.

In a market where mere competition was the arbiter of success or failure of a coffee shop, the Slate model may be more applicable. But the main reason that Starbucks is downsizing is that with rising energy and food costs, people have less discretionary income. So instead of going out for coffee five times a week, people may be choosing to go once a week. Again, I have no data to back up any such claims but it is reasonable to think that something like this is going on. The same market forces which are having a deleterious effect on Starbucks is going to have an impact on local coffee shops as well. So while the remaining coffee shops in Marshfield may have bigger slices of the pie, the pie itself is becoming smaller.

Finally, I wonder if the closure of the Marshfield Starbucks says anything about what a coffee shop should be. Starbucks has been very open about its ambition to create a third place for people, as demonstrated in an interview with Howard Schultz of Starbucks on NPR last year. They hope to establish a space outside of home and work that people spend time. This is evidenced by the layout of a typical Starbucks: comfortable chairs (often described as "comfy"), seats positioned for individuals instead of groups, free electricity, and Wi-Fi access.

The difference between the Starbucks vision of the third space and the version offered by the Daily Grind could not be more stark. The Daily Grind has antique wooden chairs that are arranged for groups and intermittant Wi-Fi access (they have it, but has been unavailable every time I've tried to use it). Go into any Starbucks and it's as quiet as a library. If you wanted to talk to somone, you're likely to be shushed at by someone who has made a table their personal office. A Starbucks is a place where many people connect to the internet by themselves. In contrast, the Grind is as noisy as a bar as it's full of people talking to each other. Some people read, study, and use laptops at the Daily Grind, sure, but it's a minority and no one seems to make it their office. The Grind's approach is far more observant of the political nature of coffee than Starbucks. That Starbucks is closing while the Daily Grind is remaining in business seems to reflect an interesting rejection of the Starbucks idea of the third space.

This opinion is also philosophical rather than practical. I like the idea of a coffee shop as a place that people can go to talk and discuss great and minor things alike, but ideally there would be the option of both styles of coffee shop in Marshfield.

I am not mourning the loss of the Starbucks in Marshfield as I didn't consider it to sell a superior product, was underwhelmed by its sourcing practices, and disliked the atmosphere. At the same time, I worry that this could create a ripple effect on other, local coffee purveyors in Marshfield and may represent a trend toward coffee pricing that is out-of-sync with the real value of the product.

Prelude to pi

2008-03-14T21:25:00.000-07:00

Happy pi day everyone!

Sorry for the tease yesterday, but the pie has some stage fright.

Actually I'm going to Chicago on Saturday and I need to wake up very early... and the pie hasn't finished setting yet. I'll give the pie a proper right-up tomorrow after I get back.

In the meantime, here's a picture of Ommegang Chocolate Indulgence Pie.

Thank you!

2008-03-13T21:38:00.000-07:00

Thank you, Lisa, for adding a link to Pint and Fork from your blog Champaign Taste.

And welcome to any new readers!

Stay tuned for a special Friday pi day contribution! I'll be serving up a porter pie.

... or maybe a surprise!

Television notes: Dinner Impossible

2008-03-03T21:52:00.000-08:00

Just after coming out with the Dinner Impossible cookbook, Mission Cook, the Food Network has decided to not renew Robert Irvine's contract. This has been all over the blogs and forums, so I don't want to rehash old news. But for those of you who haven't heard yet, he's been accused of embellishing his resume as follows:

• On Dinner Impossible, he says that he is a knight. In one news story, he claimed that he was a Knight Commander of the Royal Victorian Order -- the highest level of knighthood. An article in the Saint Petersburg Times quotes Buckingham Palace press officer as saying, "He is not a KCVO Knight Commander of the Victorian Order and he wasn't given a castle by the queen of England."

•On Dinner Impossible, he says that he cooked for the royal family. He says that he was in school when a cake was being made for Princess Diana. In the same article, he said that his role was "picking fruit and things like that."

•Robert Irvine's webpage said that he had a degree in food and nutrition from the University of Leeds. But Sarah Spiller, a press officer at the University of Leeds said that "we cannot find any connection in our records between Robert and the university."

In fairness, Robert Irvine issued a statement apologizing for unspecified "embellishments" to his resume. Despite that he has been much maligned on the internet for his predictable, traditional cooking, the fact of the matter is that Robert Irvine is a tasteful and competent chef. He's the kind of guy that you want around when you have to feed the 5000.

Still, the mind wonders what kind of hiring process the Food Network has. Do they even bother calling references?

This places the Food Network in a very odd position. As Project Runway Season 4 winds to a close this week, Bravo has been running advertisements for Top Chef Chicago that say flatly that it's the "#1 food show on cable." The Food Network must undoubtedly be sour that the "#1 food show on cable" isn't on their network. They even tried to copy the Top Chef model in the next Iron Chef competition, and it didn't even come close to the quality of Top Chef. Shows like Ace of Cakes, and – you guessed it – Dinner Impossible, are promising shows that offer a glimmer of hope about the future of the Food Network and food television in general. It won't be the "chop like this" show that's become entrenched from everyone between Julia Child and Rachel Ray. It'll be entertainment. Unlike older shows which require the elevation of the host to some level of celebrity status to be compelling, or more recently have some tacky quirk to them (I won't name names), these shows highlight hardworking and skilled professionals. The Food Network's "we don't need Emeril or Mario" attitude takes the network in a direction opposite the kind of food seriousness I expect. For the sake of the Food Network, I hope it embraces these shows and doesn't drive them from the temple.

The Food Network has announced that they would seek a new host for Dinner Impossible after the conclusion of the second season. Unfortunately, Robert Irvine's personality and manly derring-do is what makes the show worthwhile. It's really a show about time management and planning more than it is about cooking, and Irvine explains why he's making choices to meet the requirements of the challenge. It just wouldn't be the same to see some cleanly prepackaged made for tv persona like Bobby Flay take it over, for example (not that he would, but you know what I mean). I'm sure Flay could feed 2700 people in 8 hours, too, and maybe could create more creative dishes. But I think what makes Dinner Impossible so remarkable is that Robert Irvine, while being a skilled chef, isn't Bobby Flay. He's not some famous television personality, or known for being a master technician. But you get the sense that he's real, and somehow authentic. He's got a chef's temper. Hell, he doesn't even look like any other chef I've ever seen.

Since the Food Network needs Dinner Impossible, and since Dinner Impossible needs Robert Irvine, and since Robert Irvine has apologized for his actions, the Food Network should seriously consider renewing his contract for a third season.

Tasting notes: Mr. Mephisto Imperial Stout

2008-02-28T21:34:00.000-08:00

I have to confess something. I have an enormous amount of respect, and some jealousy, for Tom Porter, the one-man brewing juggernaut behind Lake Louie beers. From what I've heard, he's the man. He's the man that brews the beer. He's the man that bottles the beer. He's the man that sweeps the floors, and keeps the books. He's the man that delivers the beer. I can't even imagine how much work that must be, though at least he doesn't have much of a commute (he lives on the same property on which he brews in Arena, Wisconsin). In other words, he's living every homebrewers' dream.

And each of his beers are of superlative quality!

That said, I swear that I'll be as objective as possible in my tasting notes for Mr. Mephisto Imperial Stout. I had a bottle left over from the previous release last year, but I saw it on the shelves at Steve's the other day and decided it would be a good time to post some tasting notes.

Mr. Mephisto pours completely black, but raises an unusually large tan head (3/4 inch). As time passed, the head became smaller but stayed for the entire time I drank the beer. And it left excellent, beautiful lacing in its wake. The head was so robust that I wonder if some wheat is used to aid in head retention. The beer is completely opaque even when held up to the brightest light I could find in my apartment.

The aroma offers a pleasant roastiness, with some smoke and fresh raspberry notes. It smells sweet, but has a slightly sour edge to it. Upon tasting it, the first thing that struck me is how amazingly smooth and creamy this beer is. If you put a pint of this beer in front of me, I would think that it was served using a nitrogen tap. Seriously, the viscosity reminds me of drinking a stout milk shake (which is one of my favorite treats). Some fruity esters that offer peach and raspberry flavors stick out in the very front of the profile, but quickly give way as an intense roasty flavor continues to build after each sip. Some apple-wood smoke flavors are in there as well. After the roastiness fades, a bread-like flavor is left as the aftertaste. There was no perceived ethanol flavor.

As the beer warms, I noticed that the esters become more harsh and more distracting. It also became sweeter, almost cloying to my taste, which caused me to drink it really slowly. Although Mr. Mephisto comes close to being one dimensional, in that every other flavor is subtle compared to the pervasive roastiness of this imperial stout, it shows enormous control and restraint.

Unlike some imperial stouts that I've had that were so bitter that they were practically undrinkable, so alcoholic that it didn't taste like a stout, or so roasty that there was no room for any other flavor at all, Mr. Mephisto is an imperial stout done the right way.

Tasting notes: Imperial Weizen

2008-02-27T22:35:00.000-08:00

After the Capital Brewery discontinued production of Kloster Weizen in 2006, I've admittedly struggled with my hefeweizen addiction. I went through some rough patches where wailing and gnashing of teeth may or may not have been involved. I've given serious thought to taking up a twelve step program to deal with my problem, but I couldn't find a support group for hefeweizen addicts.

Which is amazing to me because, as one of my very favorite styles, it embodies much of my attitude toward beer. Hefeweizen is a beverage that's tied by memory and association to a specific time and place; the mere act of drinking it teleports me to some Bavarian beer garden on a warm summer afternoon. It is a social beverage. It's not hard to imagine sitting around a table at that beer garden talking with friends. It quenches the thirst, and does amazing things with food. Hefeweizen isn't a beer that's going to get you drunk (unless you drink liters of it), so it leaves you fully ready to deal with the daily grind. The yeast is largely responsible for the remarkable range of flavors that you can expect in a hefeweizen (everything from banana, clove, bubble gum, and smoke).

Suffice it to say that I'm a hefeweizen junkie. So when New Glarus came out with an imperial weizen as the latest installment in their "unplugged" series of beers, I fell off the bandwagon and got my fix.

This beer raises a huge head. Although the picture at the bottom doesn't reflect well on my weizen-pouring aptitude, I swear that the first time I tried to pour the beer into my glass I only got about half of it in before the head started billowing out the top. This, my second bottle, went to the other extreme and I didn't develop enough of a head. Still, any beer that pours a 1 1/2 inch head when you're trying your hardest not to develop too much head is pretty substantial. This beer is impressively carbonated, and I imagine that it would do wonders with all sorts of foods. It left elegant lacing in my glass as I drank it.

But it was enough of a head to release the impossibly aromatic qualities of this beer. Honestly, I've never tasted anything like it. The nose bursts with grapefruit and to a lesser extent lime and some lemon flavors. The cinnamon and clove aroma is less obvious, but contributes pleasantly to the nose. There were also some floral highlights in the background that I had trouble identifying.

The flavor profile was similarly explosive. The first thing you get is a huge hit of grapefruit that I can only assume set up a homestead on my tongue. As the citrus flavor gradually recedes, the clove flavor becomes more noticeable. There's also a cinnamon contribution in the flavor profile that I felt only at the very back of my mouth, but seemingly less than in the aroma. The malt flavor reminded me of croissant, although it isn't nearly as obvious as the pervasive citrus aroma of this beer. The citrus flavors may be the result of the yeast, but it's so robust and so multidimensional that I suspect that dry hopping with cascade hops was involved. The problem I have with this explanation is that I've never tasted that much grapefruit from cascade hops before (although it is a characteristic of the cultivar).

With so much going on, it would be easy to miss what wasn't tasting. Compared to other hefeweizens, there is very little to no banana flavor in this beer. I chalk that up to either fermentation conditions or the "special strain of Bavarian Weiss yeast" mentioned on the bottle. Second, at 20 degrees Plato (i.e. approximately 1.080 original gravity!) there was no ethanol flavor. I readily felt the presence of ethanol, as its unusually warming for a hefeweizen.

Above all else, though, this beer is pleasant. Unlike so many imperial concoctions, this is a beer that retains a sense of where it comes from, despite being elevated to a whole new level of deliciousness.

Milking Roger Clemens

2008-02-25T23:02:00.000-08:00

Due to reasons that are largely irrelevant to this blog, I've had some time on my hands recently. It probably says something really bad about me, but I've spent my lunches watching C-SPAN lately. If you've been following the news over the last couple of weeks, you know that baseball player Roger Clemens has been accused of using performance enhancing drugs including human growth hormone. Since this isn't a legal or sports blog, it's not really relevant to Pint and Fork whether he did or did not use HGH contrary to MLB regulations, US law, and his own health.

When I was watching the other day, some doctor said something I found incredibly interesting. He said that detecting abuse of HGH poses an extremely difficult analytical challenge because it's literally the same hormone that is present in every single human. So to determine abuse, laboratory analysis requires looking at sharp changes in HGH levels over time. The problem with that is that players are not tested often enough to do that typically, and that somatic HGH levels covariate with dietary and other environmental factors.

En passant, he suggested that the US government could require all HGH chemical formulation to contain an inert chemical tracer. That is, a chemical that has no physiological, medicinal, or any other business being in the human body that doesn't help or harm it in any way. Preferably, it would be something that would persist in the body for some time after receiving a dose of HGH.

Now, do understand that I have no idea what a suitable tracer chemical would be. But I have a feeling that there are smart people in this world who would be able to figure out just that kind of problem.

So... Let's get this straight. It's illegal to label milk as being free of recombinant bovine growth hormone (rBGH) because it's analytically impossible to prove whether an animal contained rBGH as opposed to natural BGH (because they're chemically identical).

However, if the government required that an inert tracer were included in rBGH we would be able to solve that problem.

But please bear with me as I go into a little more detail.

The use of rBGH (also known as bovine somatotropin or bST) was made possible by Monsanto in the early 1980s. It was quickly shown to increase milk production in cows by ten to twenty percent, and due to industry pressure was approved by the FDA for use in 1993. The FDA's short-sighted "science-based approach" to such matters also contributed to the relatively rapid approval of rBGH. At any rate, the FDA reviewed 130 industry-funded studies that involved testing 21,000 cows and determined that rBGH was safe for human consumption and does not affect human health (i.e. it doesn't stimulate human growth).

Two problems. First, cows that are treated with rBGH develop mastitis more frequently than non-rBGH treated cows. This requires the extensive use of antibiotics, which are positively known to enter the milk of treated animals. The FDA has a mandate to test for antibiotics in milk, but in practice it does not even come close to having the resources to do so.

Second, the use of rBGH increases levels of insulin-like growth factor-1 (IGF-1). Unlike rBGH which is a different chemical entirely from HGH and therefore has no biological activity, bovine-derived IGF-1 is chemically identical to human IGF-1. And IGF-1 may well stimulate unnatural growth in infancy and may increase the risk of cancer for adults. This risk is mitigated somewhat by the denaturation (biologically deactivated for non-chemists) of the protein in gastric fluid, however some has been demonstrated to be absorbed before it can become denatured.

(For completeness, research has shown reduced casein levels, reduced short-chain fatty acid, increased long-chain fatty acid, increased concentration of thyroid hormone triiodothyronine enzyme, frequent contamination with unapproved drugs for treating mastitis, and increased somatic cell counts due to mastitis.) (PDF, 645.3 kb)

Anyway because rBGH is chemically indistinguishable from natural BGH the FDA determined that it's illegal to label dairy products as being rBGH free. I personally think that given the two risks noted above, I -- as the consumer -- should be given the ability to make a choice. And I can't make a choice without adequate labeling. But, hey, maybe that's just me.

The relevant FDA guidance document discusses this matter explicitly. It says that

FDA is concerned that the term ``rbST free'' may imply a compositional
difference between milk from treated and untreated cows rather than a
difference in the way the milk is produced.

So you can't label milk as "rBST free" unless you provide what the FDA considers "proper context":

FDA believes such misleading implications could best be avoided by the
use of accompanying information that puts the statement in a proper
context. Proper context could be achieved in a number of different
ways. For example, accompanying the statement ``from cows not treated
with rbST'' with the statement that ``No significant difference has
been shown between milk derived from rbST-treated and non-rbST-treated
cows'' would put the claim in proper context. Proper context could also
be achieved by conveying the firm's reasons (other than safety or quality)
for choosing not to use milk from cows treated with rbST, as long as
the label is truthful and nonmisleading.
(Bold type added by Pint and Fork for emphasis.)

In other words, you can give your reasons for not using rBGH right on the package, as long as it doesn't imply that your product is safer (as good science has shown) or is of higher quality (which is common sense to this observer).

So clearly, an FDA-mandated inclusion of an inert tracer in rBGH formulations could overcome this hurdle with a techno fix. That is to say, with the least amount of effort because it requires no changes in the way things are done. But some facts, I think, undercut the need for rBGH in the first place.

First of all, it cannot be argued that American farmers need rBGH to keep pace with foreign demands. For one thing, milk is fresh only briefly and it cannot be effectively frozen. rBGH has been banned in the European Union, Canada, Australia, New Zealand, and Japan. So at first glance, it would seem that we could increase the sell-ability of US milk if we rendered rBGH illegal because then we could sell it in Canada.

Second, there has always been a surplus of milk -- even during the Great Depression. There is no reason why we would want to produce more of it. In fact, more of a product will devalue the commercial value of that product and hurt the small-scale operations the most.

Third, there are a finite number of antibiotics in our pharmacopoeia. We should be trying to limit their use to the greatest extent possible for only cases where the need is warranted. The use of antibiotics in cattle for meat production has been demonstrated to lead to an increase of antibiotic resistant pathogens. This is a very bad thing. If we can reduce the use of antibiotics by not using rBGH, then so much the better.

Fourth, the FDA itself opened up the door of certification programs. That is, a third party could conduct regular inspections and audit paper records to verify that rBGH was not used in raising cows. In an FDA interim guidance document on the subject, they clarify that this can be done not to address safety concerns but to defend the farmer against claims that the label is misleading. To quote the FDA document:

States should consider requiring that firms that use statements indicating
that their product is ``certified'' as not from cowstreated with rbST be
participants in a third party certification program to verify that the cows
have not been injected with rbST. States could seek to ensure that
certification programs contain thefollowing elements: Participating dairy
herds should consist of animals that have not been supplemented with rbST.
The program should be able to track each cow in the herd over time. Milk
from non-rbST herds should be kept separate from other milk by a physical
segregation, verifiable by a valid paper trail, throughout the transportation
and processing steps until the finished milk or dairy product is in final
packaged form in a labeled container. The physical handling and recordkeeping
provisions of such a program would be necessary not because of any safety
concerns about milk from treated cows but to ensure that the labeling of
the milk is not false or misleading.

Unfortunately, farmers are very rarely responsible for the distribution of their product. That means that physically separating certified rBGH free milk on the way to the packaging facility is often impossible as a matter of practice.

At any rate, there is the kind of technical fix the food industry so much adores in the form of inert tracers. This completely invalidates the argument that dairy products cannot be labeled "rBGH free" because there's no chemical difference. With this in mind, the FDA should revisit their guidance document and allow such designations to be included.

And I thought nothing good would ever come of watching C-SPAN.

Blog commentary

2008-02-06T23:45:00.000-08:00

My friend xenobiologista recently made an interesting post about inefficient packing of organic versus conventional products, and practices of Whole Foods and Wal-Mart.

Issue 1. My friend recently purchased salmon burgers at Whole Foods. The salmon burgers were wrapped in plastic-coated paper that was meant to look like news paper.

I don't think that you can fault them for not using real newspaper as the ink rubs off the pages too easily, and the ink is not approved for human consumption by the FDA. In other words, it would be illegal to use real newspaper. They're presumably using a plastic-coated paper because it creates a hydrophobic surface, which prevents the juices from your salmon burgers from soaking the head of garlic that's also sitting in your basket.

I agree that, all things being equal, it would be great if Whole Foods used paper without ink.

I feel that Whole Foods is doing more than other companies in this area. They're eliminating plastic bags at the checkouts by April 22, 2008. Sure they will still offer paper bags at the checkout and there will presumably still be plastic bags used in the produce section. But this is an important step in the right direct, and hopefully one that will reduce the use of plastics. Moreover, they have a fairly progressive list of unacceptable food ingredients that will disqualify an item from being sold at Whole Foods. This list includes such chemicals as aspartame, EDTA, bleached/bromated flours, MSG, FD&C colors, and sucralose. This list limits the extent to which items can be processed, which presumably saves energy and decreases dependence upon unsavory chemical additives. (Note: I disagree with the inclusion of foie gras on this list. Foie gras production is an ancient tradition, produces wholesome food, and is humane.)

But there are some reasonable points that can be made here. They probably would have been happy to not wrap the salmon burgers at all if you had brought your own reusable container. Second, yes it's a waste of ink to make the paper look like a newspaper. But I'm not certain how significant this inefficiency is in the scheme of things. Do you buy new books or do you only buy used books or (even better) only check books out from the library? When you are afraid that you're going to forget your eye exam next Thursday at 1:30 PM with Dr. Robinson, do you write a reminder on a post-it note or do you reuse scrap paper? The point being that people waste a lot of ink all the time. Singling out the ink on the paper at the meat counter seems inappropriate unless you intend to address the issue comprehensively to reduce ink use across the board.

Issue 2. Extra packaging on organic foods. My friend noticed that organic cabbage was wrapped in plastic while conventional cabbage wasn't. She also noticed the long standing head-scratcher with egg packaging: the organic, vegetarian, "free range" (cough cough) eggs are usually in plastic containers while conventional eggs are usually in cardboard containers.

Just some background, though. While organic eggs have to comply with USDA organic standards, there is no regulation of the term free range in the United States (unlike in the European Union and Japan). In many cases, it just means that the farmer bought a cage that's a couple of inches larger and installed a window in the hen house. The organic standards require that livestock have (21 CFR title 7 205.239)

(1) Access to the outdoors, shade, shelter, exercise areas, fresh air, and direct sunlight suitable to the species, its stage of production, the climate, and the environment;

To be clear, this standard prohibits the use of battery cages which most experts believe is strictly inhumane. Unlike the European Union and Canada, the US has no plan and no time line to legally prohibit the use of battery cages.

Unfortunately, there is currently much abuse of the federal code's lack of specificity. For example, it's perfectly acceptable for a farmer to theoretically allow his animals to roam freely but exert psychological control of them so that the animals naturally eschew the outdoors. Studies have shown that most farm animals, when raised indoors prefer to remain indoors and eat feed even when given the option to go outdoors and eat natural foods. Come to think of it, this sounds applicable to humans as well. Other common ways around this are providing only very small outdoor areas for a large number of animals, or an outdoor area that's covered in concrete or gravel or dirt (i.e. not covered with vegetation).

Federal regulations also require that organic animals must be fed organically. This prohibits the use of less-savory industrial by-products such as animal blood, slaughter house waste, ground up male chickens (high speed maceration), and feces.

So organic-certified eggs may be better than conventional eggs in terms of access to the outdoors and what they're fed. But even the organic label is no guarantee.

But my friend's original point was that organic eggs tend to be packaged with less sustainable materials than conventional eggs. Good point! But there are some things you can do about it.

For one thing, you can always buy eggs directly from a local farmer (e.g. Pecatonica Valley Farm) or through an intermediary (e.g. Artisan Foods Delivered). Such small scale farmers generally use cardboard packaging and actually want the cardboard back so it can be reused. The eggs also don't travel as far, which reduces the energy cost associated with transporation.

It's not realistic that large numbers of people will switch to buying local eggs. In the interest of completeness, Organic Valley does sell organic eggs in cardboard containers. Unfortunately, even these eggs have a plastic label glued onto the cardboard which adds up to more packaging than conventional eggs. I have heard that Organic Valley doesn't allow farms to enter its cooperative that have fewer than 2000 laying hens and really prefer that a farm have at least 5000 hens. Given how large these numbers are, it's likely that these farms live up the lofty goals Organic Valley purports to hold -- although, to their credit, they are open about their standards and even post them on their website.

So, in summary, yes it's bad that most organic, vegetarian, and free-range eggs are sold in plastic containers. But you can choose to buy ones that are not sold in plastic or -- which may involve buying eggs locally.

Issue 3. Wal-Mart has been criticized for its entry into the organic foods market.

It's great that Wal Mart wants to get into the organic foods business. For as many short cuts and half-hearted attempts to be green as some companies take, organic practices are generally more environmentally friendly all other things being equal. If you don't use pesticides, you don't have to pay to have them shipped to your farm, there's less demand for industrial chemicals, and you're putting fewer chemicals into our water supply. If you use natural fertilizers, you're not less dependent upon the Haber-Bosch cycle which is extremely energy demanding even with the use of a catalyst.

It's unfortunate, however, that many companies including Wal-Mart are continually lobbying the federal government to relax organic standards. The other issue here, as far as I'm concerned, is that there are now organic versions of many processed foods (check our your local breakfast cereal aisle). Yes it's great that these foods probably have lower environmental costs, but you're still supporting the processing of the food product which is environmentally inefficient.

Moreover, organic practices are only one part of a larger picture; eating organically is great, but not sufficient. Food should also be local and seasonal to the greatest extent possible. The environmental gains from not using pesticides are readily lost if the product has to be shipped a much farther distance to market.

Beyond placing value on organic, local, and seasonal products, one should also hope that the people intimately involved in the production of said food will be fairly rewarded for their labor. As the saying goes, farming is the only job where everything you buy is at retail and everything you sell is at wholesale. Wal-Mart's mantra of "low prices always" is largely incompatible with proper compensation of farmers, and instead creates a system that can achieve no more than the bottom line. Indeed it brings the bottom line down across the board as even stores like Whole Foods and the Willy Street Co-op offer prices to farmers that are only marginally greater than at conventional stores (i.e. that the added dividend to the farmer is less than the premium paid by the shopper). In the absence of cooperative bargaining, the Nash equilibrium is readily established. The current approach is a great way to deliver large amounts of food to market cheaply, and I hope that basic food shouldn't be so expensive as to be a privilege. But it's a crummy way to deliver food that meets the standards that many consumers expect. The quantity issue would also be more sensible if we weren't producing a significant excess of food already.

I think the closing chapter of Fast Food Nation resonates with a lot of people. Schlosser talks about the German city of Plauen, which had the misfortune of being a part of the DDR. Even though the city was occupied by Russian troops, who largely maintained political control due to a network of Stasi informants, over twenty thousand people rose up against their government on October 7, 1989 in the first of many mass demonstrations. The crowd demanded the "freedoms of their forefathers" and remained largely non-violent despite government efforts to break up the demonstration. Just over a month later, on November 9, the Berliner Mauer fell.

This is an extreme example, yes. But it demonstrates the ability of individuals to effect large-scale social change. I know it's likely a pipe dream but I hold out the hope that the more people taste real food that's skillfully prepared, the more these people will demand honest, delicious food. And they will come to accept nothing less in much the same way that many craft beer drinkers would never "lower themselves" to drinking BMC.

We should expect more from our food's supply chain, whether the point-of-purchase is Wal-Mart or Whole Foods.

Tasting notes: 120 Minute IPA

2008-02-03T21:49:00.000-08:00

I couldn't help it.

Compared to its promiscuous 60 and flirty 90 minute sisters, this beer definitely plays hard-to-get. And I may have been distracted by its 20% alcohol content.

At any rate I'm still basking in the afterglow.

The Dogfish Head 120 Minute IPA is -- to quote a commercial recently airing in the Madison area -- "unique, one of a kind, and impossible to find anywhere else." And the 20% ethanol content is just the beginning.

Hops were added to it continuously over 120 minutes using Dogfish Head's signature hopping regime whereby a shaker adds hops continuously over the time of the boil. Most beer is boiled for only sixty minutes and may have anywhere from two to five hop additions. The traditional hop addition method results in quantized hop flavors: the sensation of hop bitterness, the hop flavor, and the hop aroma. Dogfish Head's IPAs, hopped continuously, have a beguiling hop character that stands apart from every other beer I've ever tasted. Someone with excellent calculus skills figured out that it adds up to 120 IBUs. Which is insane.

It was also dry hopped every day for a month and then aged on a bed of whole leaf hops for another month. Given the hop shortage, this beer is perhaps somewhere between extravagant and wasteful. But the hops are so expertly employed that they really deliver. If it weren't for the solid use of hops, any beer of this size would be cloying and undrinkable.

The beer has also inspired an internet phenomenon whereby people chug 120 Minute IPA and post videos of it on YouTube. Name one other beer that's gotten that kind of attention. I recommend the one at Should I Drink That? ("even if it's crappy, we drink it so you don't have to"). The video is not necessarily family or work friendly, if that's a concern for you. The guy downs an entire bottle in about three seconds, which I can only assume is unhealthy -- it's only 71 mL of pure ethanol. That's more than four shots of vodka.

The beer also draws righteous indignation from people who gasp at the >$9/12 ounce bottle price tag (I think I paid $12 for it a year ago, but I have seen bottles for as low as $9). As far as I know, Dogfish Head doesn't sell packs of 120 Minute IPA. I'm not sure if this was intentional or not ($9/bottle * 6 bottles/6-pack = $54/6-pack), but aside from price I find that this highlights the uniqueness of the beer.

I'm not sure how they hit 20% alcohol content -- whether they use what could only be described as a "crap load" of malted barley or excessive amounts of adjuncts. At any rate, their yeast must have a high alcohol tolerance. Given the limitations of conventional yeast strains, the ale character of the beer comes through surprisingly cleanly.

When I opened the lime green cap, an intense and rich sweet aroma burst forth that reminded me somewhat of sticking my head in a jar of honey like Winnie the Pooh. There's some roastiness to it, and a slight poppy seed aroma to it as well. And of course there's definitely ethanol, but a lot less than I expected.

It poured in my glass with plenty of carbonation, raising a respectable head (about five millimeters) that lasted as long as there was beer in my glass. The amount of lacing was excellent. This beer is for kissing -- not making out -- and as such is pretty much the ultimate brandy snifter beer, and I would have used more appropriate glassware if I had it. It was initially quite hazy, again like honey, but the haze disappeared as the beer warmed. The beer had a rich reddish-gold color.

The flavor is enormously vivacious. It is complex and surprisingly smooth. The initial taste is surprisingly sweet, and it's only later that you taste the intense bitterness. The flavor mellows into a sourdough-like bread flavor, with biscuit-like highlights. Like the 60 and 90 minute versions, it has a slightly horse blanket maltiness. Given the fact that I aged this bottle for about a year, there's very little distinct hop aroma or flavor. But it does have a very floral flavor. There's an underlying mealy apple flavor, which may not sound appealing but it matches with the malt character perfectly. The ethanol hits the palate with impossible warmth that is something like sweaty middle-of-summer sex.

Dogfish Head's 120 Minute IPA is seductive and intoxicating. Bring one home, treat it with the respect it deserves, and savor every moment with it. Like the perfect partner, it's perfectly fulfilling in every regard but leaves you thirsty for more.

I couldn't help loving this beer.

Second and Third Tastes: Capital Vintage Ale

2008-01-24T23:54:00.001-08:00

I've got too much on my mind
I think of everything to be discovered
I hope there's something to find
Searching for the time that has gone so fast
The time that I thought would last
-Paul McCartney from "Ever Present Past"

It's hard to believe how the time has flown! On December 28, 2006, I cracked open the first bottle in a four pack of Capital's Vintage Ale. The verdict: harsh and tastes like booze. But it showed potential.

At the time, I suggested that I would open the next bottle on the first day of spring in 2007. Only five days late (can't be drinking a strong ale when you have to work the next day), and three months after my first taste, I opened my second bottle on March 26, 2007. A couple of things changed. For one thing, the first bottle I had was crystal clear; the second bottle I had showed significant turbidity. While the first bottle showed little carbonation, the second bottle raised a more robust head. This could be caused by glassware cleanliness, but I keep my beer glasses very clean so I have to discount that as unlikely. The first bottle was bursting with Kent goldings and cascade hop aroma, the second had a much more muted -- but more complex -- aroma. Instead of discrete hop aromas, the aroma was slightly floral behind a dominant maltiness. The second bottle was very smooth, and didn't have the harsh ethanol flavor of the first bottle. At the time, I also thought it was sweeter and more viscous than the first bottle.

Tonight, ten months after my last taste, I cracked open the third bottle. When I opened the bottle, the aroma has definitely developed since the second tasting. It smells fruity, like grape fruit, and like the inside of a flower shop. The taste is still smooth with little ethanol flavor. There is a strong maltiness to the flavor like sourdough bread, only much stronger. As a result, the flavor is very sweet and seems out of balance until the bittering hops hit relatively late in the progression of flavors. As it warms, the grapefruit flavors become more pronounced. It definitely takes on some complexity like port or sherry. The beer is even more turbid than it was in the second tasting.

As a side note, reading reviews of this beer on Beer Advocate has been an interesting experience. One reviewer gave it a D+, another described it as a "trainwreck." As one reads reviews that become increasingly current, the grades improve. Maybe this is because of sampling bias, that people who took the effort to find bottles of it are more likely the kind who would give Vintage Ale the attention it deserves. I prefer to think it reflects well on its potential to get better over time.

I'm not sure when I'll get around to cracking my final bottle of the 2006 Vintage Ale. It has proven itself as a great beer for aging. If I was worried that there was nothing else to find in this aging experiment, I shouldn't have been; I've had three distinct beers so far, two of them sublime. I do find myself searching for time, wishing it would last like this fine contribution from the Capital Brewery.

The weather outside is frightful

2007-12-25T13:40:00.000-08:00

When it snows eight inches, there's only one thing you can do.

Braise something.

And what better than beef bourguignon, the classic French stew? But I didn't want to settle for the Julia Child version; being stuck indoors, I was feeling more ambitious and decided to go with the Thomas Keller version instead.

The basic principle is pretty simple. You reduce some wine, add it to beef stock and braise some tough cut of beef until it's tender. Then you add some cooked root vegetables and eat it.

The challenge in making any stew -- much less this one -- is elevating each ingredient into something sublime. In other words, each component needs to taste exactly like what it is. But there must also be something inevitable about each ingredient. Without it, the stew wouldn't exist to its full potential. And if anything were added to it, it would upset the harmony of the stew and taste out of place.

To accomplish this goal, I had to break some laws of Economy that have been imprinted upon my midwestern DNA. In making the wine reduction for the braise, I added carrots, onion, leeks, and garlic. The wine reduction was then strained before it was added to the beef stock. More mirepoix vegetables were added to the beef stock during the braising process. These too were discarded. Someone might think that I wasted a lot of vegetables; one taste of the broth will immediately convince that person otherwise.

After the meat has been braised, refrigerate it for several hours with the broth. This will help ensure that the meat retains enough of its moisture. It will also allow you to skim more fat off that would otherwise upset the beautiful sheen of an elegant stew.

At this point, pick all the meat out of the broth and set it aside. Discard all of the vegetables and skim the broth several times (I used a coffee filter) until all the "stuff" stuck in suspension has been removed. The two most important parts of the stew are done: braised beef and a flavorful, beautiful broth. If you'd like, you could simply combine the two and dig in.

I grew up eating stew with vegetables in it, so that's how I like it. To prepare the vegetable garnishes, Thomas Keller recommends adding fingerling potatoes, carrots, celery, and mushrooms. Since it's not spring, I didn't have any fingerling potatoes. And since it's not the middle of the summer, I didn't have any celery. But I did have cute little red potatoes and some celeriac.

I simmered the potatoes until they were tender, used a towel to remove the skin, and quartered them.

I sautéd the carrots and celeriac in some butter and let them steam until al denté.

The mushrooms were also sautéd in butter until brown and delicious.

Keller's recipe calls for a cab, but lacking that, I used one of the bottles of côtes du Rhône that I always try to keep on hand for just such occasions. It was less fruit-forward, but upon significant reduction I'm sure the difference was minor. (Besides, unlike Keller, I don't share his enthusiasm for all things Californian.)

The recipe also calls for boneless shortribs. Lacking those, I used some beef stew meat from my Sylvan Meadows Farm CSA. I can only imagine how amazing the result would be with such a fine cut of meat, but it turned out pretty well anyway.

Instead of adding fresh thyme, which I'm sure would have been delightful, I decided to add rosemary instead. It added an appropriate seasonal note to it that otherwise would have been lacking. The rosemary also paired well with the Capital Brewery US Pale Ale I enjoyed with the stew. The hoppy notes mirrored the piney flavor of the rosemary, and the carbonation cleared the palate and left me hungry for more.

If you're in the habit of making your own stocks as I am, I encourage you double-check that you've thoroughly de-fatted your stock before adding it. The presence of "stuff" in the stock makes it difficult to throughly remove it later.

The stew was delicious, with tender meat with vegetables cooked to the point of doneness and no futher. A broth infused with beef, root vegetables, and grapes. Everything in its place, squared away, and the way it should be.

It didn't make me forget the snow bringing the world around me to a standstill. It made me revel in it.

The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth

2007-12-02T12:45:00.000-08:00

The Wisconsin State Journal really missed the mark in a December 1 editorial.

Here's the backstory: Wisconsin had a prohibition era law that prevented any business from producing beer at more than two locations or more than 4000 barrels of beer per year. To be fair, this law made sense at the time as it helped prevent the formation of tied houses. Tied houses are inherently anti-competitive, so we should be glad to be rid of them. However, the Great Dane hit a regulatory brick wall in 2005 when they were forbidden from producing beer at their Hilldale location. Instead, the Great Dane-Hilldale had to serve beer from other breweries.

This all changed with Senate Bill 224 (pdf, 101.3 kb) which lifted some of these restrictions by raising the caps to six locations and 10,000 barels/year. In a political sleight of hand, SB 224 was merged with the 2007 Wisconsin Act 20 (aka the state budget, pdf, 4.3 Mb - see section 125.295) and signed into law. Euge! Common sense! Paradise regained, right?

Well, yes. Sort-of. I mean, it's great that the Great Dane can sell more of their delicious beer. But Senate Bill 224 was more than a common sense correction of a 1933 legal relic. Eheu!

To understand why SB 224 has been called the "screw the small brewer bill" in the Tyranena Brewery newsletter, you have to understand a few things about beer distribution in Wisconsin. In order to prevent unfair consolidation in the beer market, the law has historically required a three-tier distribution system that divides up the beer market between the brewer, wholesaler, and retailer. SB 224 short-circuits this system by creating a new classification called a brewpub that exists next to the three-tier system, and clearly spells out limitations of a brewery and a brewpub.

In the past, any brewery could hold a so-called Class B license that allows on-site consumption. Also, breweries could hold a restaurant permit. Now, with SB 224, breweries cannot have restaurants. To serve food, the brewing facility must qualify as a brewpub. To quote the Legislative Reference Bureau's summary of SB 224, "This bill prohibits a person issued a brewers' permit after the bill's effective date from holding a restaurant permit, thereby requiring a person who intends to begin manufacturing beer and operating a restaurant after this date to obtain a brewpub permit." For this to happen, the facility must produce less than 10,000 barrels of beer/year (per SB 224 page 9 line 19), must "manufacture" all beer served on premises (per SB 244 page 9 line 21), and sale of alcoholic beverages must account for less than 60% of all gross sales (page 9 line 23), must offer to sell beer other than that "manufactured" by the brewpub group (page 10 line 3), and have no more than six brewpub permits (page 11 line 10).

Now... by restricting food service exclusively to brewpubs, the law does great and I fear tangible harm to our state's brewing traditions. Many breweries also maintain on-premise restaurants such as the Ale Asylum, Lake Front Brewery, Central Waters, Milwaukee Ale House among others. Instead of holding a brewers' permit, they will have to hold a brewpub permit with all of the restrictions listed above. For one thing, to continue serving food total production will be capped at ten thousand barrels annually. For another, food sales would have to account for at least 40% of gross sales -- which is clearly impossible for many of these establishments. The end result is that food service will sadly have to cease in many instances.

Which eliminates competition for brewpubs by forcing competitors to register as breweries instead of brewpubs. Is this what the Great Dane wanted all along? If so, this seems selfish and short-sighted. It's not like there was anything even approximating market saturation as anyone who's ever tried to get a table at the Great Dane-Downtown at 8 PM on a Saturday night can tell you.

Furthermore, the restrictions on food service and food-alcohol sales percentages limit business in unnecessary ways that unfairly hurt small and start-up brewing operations. Traditionally, brewers have used food sales to provide a second source of income that dampens the impact of market fluctuation in beer sales. If a start-up brewery can't maintain at least 40% of all gross sales in food service, it would have to forgo food service all together.. After all, people usually start brewpubs (as opposed to restaurants) because they are skilled at making beer.

Why restrict the ability of the entrepreneur to start and operate a business like this? It doesn't make any sense. For that matter, why restrict brewpubs to 10,000 barrels of production? Shouldn't a brewer simply be allowed to produce the amount of beer that the market demands? Why cap it at all?

Even if you agree with SB 224, you will no doubt be less enthusiastic about the manner in which it was passed. SB 224 was slipped into the state budget at the last minute. Recall: Wisconsin was the very last state in the union to pass a state budget for the current fiscal year. As a result, the Wisconsin State Journal among many other papers were raising a clamor to get a budget passed. Because of this strong public pressure, attaching SB 224 to the state budget essentially assured its passage -- all without the benefit of floor debate or serious consideration by the full legislature.

All manner of scandalous connections have been well detailed by Michael Horn and need not be repeated in their entirety. Suffice it to say that extensive lobbying by the Great Dane Pub and Brewery Co, Wisconsin Beer Distributors Association, and the Wisconsin Independent Business Inc. overcame lobbying by the Wisconsin Brewer's Guild. Indeed, the total lobbying dollars spent are staggering. The Great Dane spent $13,500 hawking this bill. The Wisconsin Beer Distributors Association spent $16,335.20. With all this money trading hands, I can't help but to think that this isn't how our government was meant to work.

The Great Dane has some smart people working for them. They built a third brewpub knowing that they would be unable to sell their own beer there. Then they were free to appeal directly to the public essentially saying, "Look, we built a nice new brewpub and we can't sell our own beer there! Poor us!" Had the Great Dane simply had a business plan on hold for the Hilldale location pending changes in the law, I imagine the public reaction would have been less direct and more deliberate.

The Great Dane supported the bill because it's going to allow them to make a lot more money. The Wisconsin Beer Distributors Association presumably supported the bill because it further protects the three-tier distribution of beer and because SB 224 requires brewpubs to sell beer purchased from wholesalers. On the other side you have the Wisconsin Brewer's Guild which is made up of small Wisconsin breweries. And these breweries said "no" to SB 224. This is telling.

Finally, the production caps for brewpubs were set to ten thousand barrels per year being produced at no more than six locations. I wonder what the Great Dane will say when they reach 10,000 barrels a year or six retail locations? Many of the same arguments that went into raising the limits are equally valid should that happen. What would be the reaction if the Great Dane built a seventh location? Why couldn't the Great Dane-Location Seven sell its own beer? And that's what really disturbs me about the Wisconsin State Journal lavishing such praise upon SB 224: it just reserves the original problem for Great Dane-gate round two.

Wisconsin deserves beer regulations that make sense. The changes brought about by SB 224 don't solve the fundamental regulatory issue it tried to solve; it merely kicks the pebble a little bit down the way. And in so doing, it creates a multitude of new problems requiring urgent legislative attention.

To quote Wolfgang Pauli, "That's not right. It's not even wrong."

A frank discussion about Pint and Fork

2007-10-07T22:26:00.000-07:00

In case you haven't noticed, Pint and Fork has been on hiatus for the past two months. I've spent that time reflecting on what I'm trying to achieve by writing this blog, and what direction this blog should follow in the future.

See, it's like this. You can get food and beer writing from a lot of places. But I've always attempted to infuse a subtle perspective drawn from my experiences into this blog that gives it terroir. Right now, I live in Madison, Wisconsin and many of my posts have been germane to the local food, beer, and the politics of each. But as the focus of Pint and Fork has become increasingly specific, its readership I fear has become smaller.

Which is fine with me on the whole. As Dario Cecchichi is quoted as saying in Bill Buford's book "Heat", I'm not interested in "bizzzness."

I'm not interested in showing how "refined" my palate is by writing, say, restaurant reviews in which I find fault with everything and write about it in the most mocking ways. Such reviews, while fun to read perhaps, lower the bottom line of food blogging as a whole. Writing mean things about people is not what I'm about. I never want to write anything that sounds like this bit from Amuse-Biatch:

* Reading the blogs: "I'm weaning myself off them. They're vicious. They attack me, my wife, my dog. These people don't seem to have anything better to do."

[Um, first of all, we do have better things to do (and we do them); it's just that we enjoy doing this (like Hung, we lack both "heart" and "soul"). Secondly, we never attacked your dog; we believe in intraspecies honor. Look, Brian, possum, we'll level with you. You're a very cute guy (especially once you shaved that asinine soul patch), but it's not our fault that you had a penchant for bullshit, airy-fairy dish names, ugly man-jewelry and stupid hats (we're not positive, but we think even the International Male catalogue has banned thumb rings and leather wristbands). You might, as you claim, be loved by the Gays, but possum, we's a tough crowd, and tough crowd equals tough love. Also, it's not our fault that your wife put specific information that presumably implicates you on a public MySpace page for all the world to see. On the positive side, we applaud and congratulate you for not saying that you were weaning yourself "off of" blogs. Good grammar is a wonderful thing to behold. See? We're not all bad.]

Just as I'm not interested in being another tabloid blog, I also have no desire to be the CNN of the food blogging world. Pint and Fork isn't "first on the scene" journalism, nor is it going to report on gossip. I'm not the blogger that shows up on restaurants on their first night in operation or reviews a beer after a single bottle. I've been working on an ethics policy and I'll post it when it's ready. In the mean time, let it suffice it to say that a fair amount of effort goes into fair representation of facts. Pint and Fork is slow and deliberate. It is the opinion page of the newspaper and not the front page.

It's tempting to sell out these principles to boost my blog's popularity, but I believe that there's an audience out there that isn't interested in that kind of blogging and who prefers the perspective that I can bring to the table. So to speak.

I hope I'm right.

I'm inspired by Alder from Vinography who continues to be one of the strongest voices in the wine blogging community. He has gotten there not by being flashy, mean, or spurious, but by being thorough, consistent, and a fine writer. Alder stays on topic and he does it well.

That said, I have some exciting plans for this blog to dish up when the time is right. In the meantime, I hope to return to a regular weekly posting schedule.

For all of my readers, welcome back!

All's Quiet on the Western Front

2007-08-01T22:24:00.000-07:00

A curious thing happened in Viroqua on Monday.

People actually demonstrated in favor of concentrated animal feeding operations. Local large-scale farmers hauled over fifty pieces of farm equipment onto the streets surrounding Western Technical College, mostly to express opposition to a measure being evaluated by Vernon County's Health Committee that would temporarily restrict development of new livestock operations of 500-1000 animals. Regulations surrounding herds of more than 1000 "animal units" would still fall under Wisconsin Statute 93.90. So basically, Vernon County has proposed to have a stricter standard than the rest of the state of Wisconsin.

City folks and small-scale farmers demonstrated to express their support for the proposed moratorium. Virginia Goeke was there are and laments that

Unfortunately, some of the media has portrayed this issue as Vernon county Farmers are against the moratorium, meanwhile city folks are for it. John and I, along with other small family farms have spoken publicly in favor of the moratorium at the recent public hearing, however there was a very large showing of very large-scale farmers, replete with their large, new, shiny tractors & spray rigs, that of course grabbed the media eye.

It all started when Jeff and Bonnie Parr proposed the development of a 2400 "animal unit" hog operation.

As a moratorium, it wouldn't permanently ban the development of such large-scale farms. Health Committee member Gail Frie said, "This is a temporary short-term moratorium, not a prohibition." The idea is that the committee needs more time to arrive at a definitive conclusion on the best way to move forward. The board supported passing the draft moratorium on June 11 on the testimony of David Chakoian who demonstrated that large scale hog farms promote the spread of antibiotic-resistance pathogens. Chakoian's view was rebuked by that of Arthur Mueller, a veterinarian, who concluded that "The important thing is this confinement unit will not threaten the public health of its neighbors."

This moratorium is not only a good idea; it doesn't go far enough. The conditions that allow concentrated animal feeding operations to exist ought to be made illegal, and I hope that Vernon County will make it so. Furthermore, it is in the best interests of everyone that Vernon County acts in this manner.

In a confined animal operation, animals are kept in such close proximity that anti-biotics have to be administered to entire herds. This is even more important because many of these pigs, once able to subsist on anything, are bred or genetically engineered in such a way that they would die outside. Pumping an animal full of antibiotics and then eating it sounds like a recipe for the spread of antibiotic-resistant bacteria, and it does in fact result in nasty infections. Chee-Sanford et al. demonstrated in 2001 that antibiotic-resistance can also be transmitted by ground water from liquid animal waste.

Given the solid scientific evidence demonstrating that the continued use of antibiotics poses a human health risk, and given that such antibiotics are administered most on concentrated animal feedlot operations, it only makes sense that the proposed moratorium would have a positive impact upon human health.

In talking about health risks, we run a risk of focusing too myopically on health and safety issues in neglect of environmental, ethical, culinary, and public interest considerations. These large farms won't be able to compost their animal waste, leading to groundwater pollution. The swine that will live on the Parr's farm will experience very low quality of life, which many people would consider unethical. Omnivores ought to demand this moratorium in light of the fact that happy animals taste better than sad animals. Is it in the public interest that the swine industry should become progressively more consolidated? Is this in support of the area's famed rural agrarian heritage? Does the potentially lethal malodorous effluent rank high on the dread-and-outrage scale in the public view? Does an increase in antibiotic resistance bacteria post a threat to national security? This is precisely the sort of political trap the food industry has relied upon for decades. Hasn't anyone read Safe Food by Marion Nestle?

The Vernon County board should open the discussion to consider all relevant views of the topic, not just health and safety.

The real insult to injury here is that the Wisconsin's Department of Agriculture, Trade, and Consumer Protection (!!!) (DATCAP) has threatened to sue Vernon County if the moratorium goes into effect. Virginia Goeke alleges that the "DATCAP/ state of Wisconsin has been consulting with the National Pork Industry Council on this issue." Pint and Fork cannot confirm nor deny this claim. If they define consumer protection as doing everything in their power to subvert the public interest in favor of private interest, they're doing an excellent job
fulfilling their mission statement.

Farms that confine animals and use antibiotics pose a threat to human health, contaminate Wisconsin's ground and surface waters, threatens our heritage and debases our collective identity, and is not in the interests of anyone. Wisconsin has long been an agricultural leader; standing our ground and not giving in to the interests of a few factory farms preserves that leadership.

Life's for livin'

2007-07-13T20:58:00.000-07:00

Have a drink, have a drive
Go out and see what you can find
-Mungo Jerry from "In the Summertime"

The Wisconsin State Journal today devoted their staff editorial to the need to getting serial DUI offenders off the road. To recap... Shockingly, Thomas J. Dworak has been convicted a dozen times for drunken driving. And he was in court this week standing trial for another drinking while driving offense. William A. Skare has been convicted on fourteen counts of drinking and driving. Clearly, these two Wisconsin men should not be allowed behind the wheel. And yet law enforcement keeps finding them there without a license and drunk. This constitutes a deficiency in our laws since the legal punishment for their repeated convictions has not prevented these individuals from driving. The Wisconsin State Journal puts it more eloquently, "The only regret Wisconsin should have about throwing the book at Dworak is that it is not a bigger book."

Dworak is facing a maximum prison sentence of six years plus a fine of $10,000, which could increase as a function of his blood alcohol content at the time of the infraction.

Hot off setting myself up for being called a yankee muckraker, Pint and Fork proposes that the following ideas be considered to keep serial offenders off the road:
1. Pass a law that makes it illegal for repeat offenders to own or possess a car after a certain number of offenses. I mean if we can make laws that "infringe" upon a convicted felon's "second amendment right" to bear arms, we can make a law that restricts access to motor vehicles. Cars in the hands of the intoxicated are deadly weapons and killed nearly 17,000 people in 2005 alone (insert obligatory comment about the number of US soldiers killed in the Iraq War, or on September 11, 2001). If we can keep the worst offenders away from motor vehicles, maybe we can reduce the number of alcohol-related fatalities.

2. Impose criminal penalties for allowing a known repeat offender to operate a vehicle in your possession. In my mind, this is similar to laws that we have in place concerning the provision of alcohol to minors. Law enforcement doesn't just penalize the offending minors; they can also penalize those who provided the alcohol in the first place. And so it is with cars and repeat DUI offenders.

3. The Wisconsin State Journal cites South Dakota law that allows repeat offenders to drive if they submit to Breathalyzer tests twice daily with the sheriff. I'm not sure that the article makes it clear, but the South Dakota law is a so-called "24/7 sobriety" zero-tolerance law. That is, a person can get a special permit to operate a motor vehicle so long as they get tested, pay the expenses of the testing, and consume absolutely no ethanol. The detection of any amount of alcohol necessarily revokes that individual's right to operate a motor vehicle.

However unlikely, it may be possible to fool a Breathalyzer. Google helped me find all sorts of tricks for beating a Breathalyzer including breathing heavily before analysis, eating shit, and sucking on activated charcoal. My scientific training and an episode of Mythbusters has me doubting the effectiveness of any way to cheat the test. To obviate any technique for fooling a Breathalyzer analysis, blood samples should be randomly collected from program participants.

I'm not sure that measure three would stop Dworak from driving, seeing as how he wasn't deterred by having his license revoked by a preponderance of repeat offenses. So while this 24/7 sobriety program offers a legal road map to obtaining a driving permit, it is insufficient to keep the worst offenders from driving because they will do so with or without a permit. Still, I regard this as a significant step forward.

All my ex's

2007-07-06T23:16:00.000-07:00

And that's why I hang my hat in Tennessee.

Some folks think I'm hidin',
It's been rumored that I died,
But I'm alive and well in Tennessee.

-George Straight from "All My Ex's Live in Texas"

The media never ceases to amaze me.

In case you haven't heard, Tennessee took a tough stand against underage drinking recently when it created a mandatory carding law at all grocery and liquor stores.

At least that's the impression one comes away with looking at the news coverage the new law has created. What they don't tell you is that this law will do virtually nothing to reduce the consumption of alcohol to minors. And secondly, it's an insult to beer drinkers.

At the heart of the issue is the Responsible Vendor Act of 2006, which was sponsored by State Senator Joe Haynes (SB3316) and State Representative Gary Moore (HB3210). What it does is make carding mandatory for all beer sales at grocery and liquor stores in Tennessee starting July 1, 2007. It's the first law of its kind in the union and is on a trial basis until July 1, 2008, when the law is set to sunset. It is widely believed that, if successful, the sunset provision will be removed (pdf, 20 kb). This law does accomplish some noble goals, including eliminating carding discrimination and reducing the positivity bias noted by McCall and Nattrass. A complete copy of the act is available here (pdf, 48 kb).

It's like creating a law that says that you can't buy alcohol for home consumption after 9 PM (in Wisconsin), it just means that people who drink will buy their beverages earlier in the day, having a presumably negligible influence upon drinking habits. If minors aren't able to buy beer themselves, they'll just have other people buy it for them in greater numbers.

Without increasing the penalty for providing alcohol to a minor and stepping up enforcement efforts, this loop-hole will drain the Responsible Vendor Act of any effectiveness beyond encouraging the responsible sale of beer. What happens to beer after its sale is less controlled and even less controllable. I don't know how to prevent the provision of alcohol to minors; I do know that the lack of effective and suitable preventative measures means that this act will accomplish little.

Moreover, the act merely raises the street value and prevalence of having fake forms of identification. Fake identification documents are already ubiquitous as illustrated by an article in the Christian Science Monitor that describes just one of many sources minors turn to to obtain a fake id. I mean, look. I'm not CNN and I'm not going to harp about how this is going to aid terrorist groups, but it does expose a fundamental flaw in the bill and in state-issued forms of identification. So long as identification cards can be counterfeited, this act will have little impact.

In fact, I'm curious to see in what percent of cases underage drinking was due to the failure to card in the first place. Based upon my personal, anecdotal experience, I never tried to buy alcohol before I turned 21. And yet, I had absolutely no problems sourcing any kind of alcohol I wanted. Go figure.

One thing I find most curious is that the bill only addresses the sale of beer for off-premise consumption. Not wine coolers, not wine, not liquor. It doesn't affect bars either. A study put together by the National Institute on Alcohol Abuse and Alcoholism (part of the NIH) determined the prevalence of consumption of beer, liquor, wine, and wine coolers among 18 - 20 year old individuals. Interestingly, only 26.8% of individuals drank beer at home while 62.0% of individuals said they consumed beer in the homes of friends or family. In comparison, 31.1% said they consumed wine coolers at home while 59.1% consumed wine coolers in the homes of friend or family. Similarly, 22.3% said they consumed liquor at home while 61.8% said they consumed liquor at the homes of friend or family. It is clear that beer consumption is only one piece of a larger puzzle. As a result, even if this act reduces the sale of beer to minors, it is unlikely to affect wine coolers, wine, or liquor consumption as the bill doesn't apply to these forms of alcohol.

The same study broke down consumption habits by gender and race. I am not a statistician and could not tell you what a significant difference is between values presented in Table 3. However, upon an uneducated glance, it strikes me that the type of beverage is related to both gender and race. If the act will reduce consumption among men and women, American-Indians and Alaska natives, the hispanic, and college students most of all, it does little to curb consumption among other groups. For example, 5.0% more women drank wine coolers at home than men. Liquor consumption is prevalent among all groups in the homes of friends or family. But this act: no impact. This could be especially hurtful to asians who have the highest rates of out-of-home liquor consumption (70.7%), for example.

In an ideal world, I wish we would instead teach our children to respect beer the way they do in many other parts of the world. Our "alcohol is bad" approach just reinforces the notion that alcoholic beverages only have value in proportion to their ethanol content (I also suspect it undermines our much needed "crystal meth is bad" message). Beer is a wonderful beverage with a rich tradition extending back thousands of years. Why aren't we instead teaching children to appreciate it, within reasonable limits? Abstinence only sex-education may be best in theory, but certainly not in practice. It's the same with alcohol-education.

Saving the moment

2007-05-22T23:09:00.000-07:00

Like practically everyone else in my generation -- and probably yours, too -- I grew up with little dependence upon foods that had been preserved at home. Yet, people have been figuring out ways to slow down the inevitable decay of foods for thousands of years. And people have been canning foods since Nicolas Appert figured out how in 1809. I concede our forebears preserved food more out of necessity than for taste, which I hope you know by know is one of the leitmotifs throughout all of my writings for Pint and Fork.

However, there are good reasons to preserve food today. When we capture a product at the peak of its season, we have that vegetable at its seasonal prime all year. This is the overarching reason why I intend to can large amounts of tomatoes this year including derivative sauces such as pasta sauce and tomato salsa. Francis Schott and Mark Pascal, of The Restaurant Guys fame, swear by this approach at their flagship restaurant Stage Left.

Moreover, so much of our food comes from thousands of miles away by anonymous growers. Reducing the energy consumed schlepping food around the globe has to be a good thing. And furthermore it gives me an excuse to support local farmers to a greater extent. Call it sentimental hogwash, but I like knowing the names of the people growing my vegetables.

Of course, I'm also just curious and eager to try something new. That's why this year I'm going to put more emphasis upon food preservation in hopes that I'll have some good eats this winter. Throughout the summer I hope to show off all the food I've put aside. And besides, maybe canning is going to become cool the way knitting is these days.

I bought five pounds of asparagus from the Priske family at the Dane County Farmers' Market this last weekend. Since asparagus has very little acidity, it has to be autoclaved ... I mean pressure canned (i.e. not water bath canned). To prepare, I cut the spears so that they would fit inside my widemouth pint-size mason jars. I fit as many as I could inside the jars. Then I added boiling water and half a teaspoon of canning salt to each jar. After attaching the lids, I processed the cans under 11.6 psi for thirty minutes and then allowed the pressure to attenuate naturally over 25 minutes.

As the provenance of canning recipes is important (unless you want to get botulism, which you don't), I followed these directions from the National Center for Home Food Preservation.

Next time I get my hands on fresh asparagus, I think I'm going to try pickling it.

The people have spoken

2007-05-03T20:27:00.000-07:00

Assembly Bill 122, which was the subject of my previous post, was signed into law today by Governor Jim Doyle. Obviously, Pint and Fork's strong advocacy of this bill was instrumental in its passage...

But seriously, I did think it was interesting that the only feedback I got was for the bill. This shouldn't be that surprising since most of the readers of Pint and Fork probably value beer and eschew neo-prohibitionism.

Whenever I say something about a person, be it good, bad, or otherwise, on Pint and Fork, I make a reasonable effort to notify that person via email. I do this for several reasons. The first, and most selfish reason, being that I want to increase the reader base of my blog. The more people who know about Pint and Fork, the better.

But the second, lesser, and more ethical reason is that I want to give those whose opinions differ from my own a chance to disagree with me. I hope that eventually some good discussions will take place in comments in my blog. I also feel that notifying people I talk about also keeps me honest in my writing. It's easy to say that so-and-so is stupid when you're doing it behind their back, quite another when it's in the open.

So the reason I was surprised was this: I heard back from the office of State Senator Pat Kreitlow. No one wrote in to say that I'm a dumb-dumb for supporting AB122, which is surprising because Pat Kreitlow is only one of two people I mentioned who support the bill. I mentioned three or four people who are against it.

At any rate, I think this speaks well to our state... Especially in comparison to Alabama, where the sale of bottled beer is unreasonably restricted. No beer sold in Alabama can exceed 6% alcohol by volume or come in a bottle greater than one pint. South Carolina, West Virginia, and Mississippi are the only other states that have similar restrictions. But when the house had a chance to change the law in Alabama, they decided to table it instead. I've been planning on doing a full-fledged piece on the issue at some point, and may still do one as there's more drama than an episode of the Gilmore Girls, but in the mean time I wish Alabamans that support the so-called gourmet beer law the best of luck in their political pursuits.

Not Funny

2007-04-14T22:32:00.000-07:00

I think everyone that knows me well knows one thing about me: I love comics. When I was little, I read Garfield and Peanuts voraciously. Then I got into The Far Side, Calvin and Hobbs, and Doonesbury. And I've always had a thing for political cartoons. When done well, they're clever depictions of complicated issues. As something simple, they can be incredibly powerful statements of opinion. Just look at Thomas Nast.

So I can take a joke.

But I think Joe Heller's recent political cartoon about free beer samples in grocery stores wasn't funny.

At stake is Wisconsin Assembly Bill 122, which would allow free samples of beer to be given out at grocery stores in Wisconsin. Specifically, it allows a maximum of two 3-ounce portions to be given to a person of legal drinking age between 11 AM and 7 PM unless specifically prohibited by municipal government.

The bill, sponsored by State Senator Pat Kretilow, passed the Senate Affairs Committee unanimously and is to be scheduled for a vote on the senate floor.

The way the law is now written, two 3-ounce portions of wine may be given free of charge to an individual of legal drinking between 10 AM and 6 PM (AB122 changes the times to 11-7):

125.06(13)(a)
(a) The provision of wine taste samples of not more than 3 fluid ounces each, free of charge, by a "Class A" licensee to customers and visitors for consumption on the premises. No "Class A" licensee may provide more than 2 taste samples per day to any one person. This subsection applies only between the hours of 10 a.m. and 6 p.m. Notwithstanding s. 125.07 (1) (a) 1., no "Class A" licensee may provide taste samples under this subsection to any underage person. No "Class A" licensee may provide as taste samples under this subsection wine that the "Class A" licensee did not purchase from a wholesaler.

125.06(13)(b)
(b) Notwithstanding par. (a) and s. 125.10 (1), a municipality may prohibit the provision of wine under this subsection.

A play-by-play analysis of the exact changes proposed in the current version of AB122 is provided here (PDF, 20kb). In its current form, it proposes that section 125.1 be revised from

125.25(1)
(1) Every municipal governing body may issue Class "A" licenses for the sale of fermented malt beverages from premises within the municipality. Subject to s. 125.34 (5) and (6), a Class "A" license authorizes retail sales of fermented malt beverages for consumption off the premises where sold and in original packages, containers and bottles. A license may be issued after July 1. That license shall expire on the following June 30.

to (changes noted in bold)

125.25 (1) Every municipal governing body may issue Class “A” licenses for the
sale of fermented malt beverages from premises within the municipality. Subject to s. 125.34 (5) and (6), a Class “A” license authorizes retail sales of fermented malt beverages for consumption off the premises where sold and in original packages, containers, and bottles. A Class “A” license also authorizes the licensee to provide, free of charge, to customers and visitors who have attained the legal drinking age fermented malt beverages taste samples that are not in original packages, containers, or bottles and that do not exceed 3 fluid ounces each, for consumption on the Class “A” premises. No Class “A” licensee may provide more than 2 taste samples per day to any one person. Taste samples may be provided under this subsection only between the hours of 11 a.m. and 7 p.m. Any other provision of this chapter applicable to retail sales of fermented malt beverages by a Class “A” licensee also applies to the provision of taste samples, free of charge, of fermented malt beverages by a Class “A” licensee. A license may be issued after July 1. That license shall expire on the following June 30.

So basically all Assembly Bill 122 does is make legal for beer what is already legal for wine.

Yet, here's Joe Heller portraying a bunch of men standing around a grocery store chugging beer at a grocery stand resembling a bar. The figure behind the "bar" resembles a young store clerk. By portraying someone who might potentially be underage serving beer implies that there's no check to make sure that all samples are given to people of legal drinking age. And it could be construed to imply that the underage clerk himself might have access to beer, and help himself.

There are four empty cups littering the floor around the men. This depiction implicitly suggests that individuals who would sample beer at a store are irresponsible.

Moreover, there are two women in the cartoon. With a dour look on her face (the other woman merely looks condescending towards the men), one of them says, "He never wanted to come to the grocery store with me... now I can't get him to leave!!" This further implies that all beer drinkers are men, and that men love beer more than their spouses. It also implies that there's no limit to the number of free samples, or that the serving sizes are large. And indeed, the cups don't appear to be tasting portion sized. As a result, it seriously misrepresents the AB122.

Finally, the caption reads "Wis. legislature considers allowing grocery stores to hand out beer samples." Again, there's no indication that responsible alcohol service is legally mandated by the bill.

The hue and cry about AB122 is beyond absurd. I will first address Heller's apparent criticisms, then I will respond to the arguments of other opponents of the bill. Finally, I will argue in favor of AB122 and strongly urge its approval without delay.

First, grocery stores providing beer samples will have to do so in a responsible manner. Regulations surrounding who can and cannot serve alcoholic beverages will apply to the distribution of free samples. And more than likely, the grocery store won't set up a bar. It might have a small table, which draws far less attention.

While people do litter, I question the apparent causal relationship between a free beer sample and litter in grocery stores. You can't tell me that everyone who takes a toothpick of Mystery Sausage at the grocery store puts the toothpick into an approved trash receptacle. You also can't tell me that men are more likely to litter than women. Or that beer drinkers are more likely to litter than wine drinkers or Mystery Juice drinkers.

With serving sizes limited to two 3-ounce pours, individuals trying a free beer sample would have to leave at some point because there's no reason to stay. It wouldn't lead to massive crowding at grocery stores. It wouldn't lead to public drunkenness. It wouldn't lead to neglected spouses. And let's face it: the times I've had a sample of wine at retail locations, the pour was more like one ounce. The volumes given are maximums, not The Exact Amount Which Must Be Poured and Then Consumed.

Having read numerous press accounts of the AB122 controversy, I found some more criticism of the bill. Nearly all of them go like this, "AB122 promotes drunkenness, alcoholism, and increases the chances of underage drinking and alcohol-related traffic fatalities. In addition, AB122 could be harmful to children and recovering alcoholics."

To be fair and balanced, I'll allow the critics to speak in their own words.

As quoted by Patrick Thornton of the Green Bay Press Gazette, Portage County District Attorney Tom Eagon says, "There are a lot of places in our community for people to get a drink." Yes, but if I wanted to go out and get a drink I want to go out and get a drink. What I wouldn't do is cruise around to grocery stores walking up and down each isle to see if free tasting samples were being distributed. And even if I found a grocery store that was providing tasting samples, I'd get at the very most six ounces (half a bottle) worth of beer. Given the amount of time and effort that an individual would have to spend obtaining a ridiculously small amount of beer, Mr. Eagon's argument is absurd. It is also an irrelevant point because people could already go out to grocery stores and get free tasting samples of wine.

Lauri Rockman, coordinator of Portage County's Coalition for Alcohol and Drug Abuse Prevention, is quoted as saying, "The environment we create for our young people is critical to their long-term health. We need positive adult modeling. Making alcohol part of a trip to the grocery store is just another way to make it so pervasive and casual in our culture." Of all the arguments against Assembly Bill 122, I think this is the most outrageous. Like a lot of things (sugar, salt, fat, etc.), alcohol is not inherently bad. Perhaps that's why her organization has the word "Abuse" in its title, not "Consumption." Anyway, I agree. It's extremely important that adults provide positive role models for their children. I just disagree with Ms. Rockman that the consumption of alcohol in moderation sets a bad example. Beer is a beverage with ancient roots, and strong traditions in many european countries (and a strong tradition here in the US). It can be incredibly complex and highly refined. To be honest, if I have kids someday I hope they have an appreciation for real beer as adults. If she doesn't want beer, she doesn't have to buy it or support retail locations that sell it. But please, Ms. Rockman, don't tell me that I can't or shouldn't enjoy it.

Mr. Eagon continues, "People with alcohol issues can't stop at one or two. One of the ways they deal with their problem is to avoid situations where they will be tempted. A grocery store should be a safe place." Ok, I get that argument. But where do you draw the line? If I recently had a heart attack, should I be tempted by fattening meats, whole milk, and candy bars in the checkout? If I suffer from celiac disease, should I be tempted with gluten-containing products? And furthermore, it stands to reason that economics would balance this out. If a store provides free samples of beer and you couldn't resist, then don't go there. If the grocery store loses enough business, it will be forced to stop providing free samples of beer.

But again, Mr. Eagon's argument misrepresents the issue. If grocery stores had a keg in the middle of the produce section and were handing out beers by the pint, I'd understand his comment about not being able to stop at "one or two." But let's face it. Six ounces of beer maximum is not a lot. And if you're talking about ethanol content it's far less than six ounces of wine. Let's say most beers come in around 4% alcohol by volume while most wines come in around 14% alcohol. That means in 6 ounces of wine, there's about 7 grams of ethanol for beer as opposed to 25 grams for wine. So you're going to end up consuming more than three times as much alcohol drinking the already-legal tasting sample of wine. And it's not like grocery stores don't already sell beer, wine, and hard liquor which could potentially compromise the safety of a store for a recovering alcoholic.

Assembly Bill 122 deserves to become law without further ado. The homebrewing and microbrewing revolution in the last twenty to thirty years in the United States has lead to the creation of some amazing breweries and world-class beers. Facing a dizzying variety of beer choices at a store (go to Woodman's Market or Steve's Liquor in Madison if you don't believe the selection could be intimidating), many customers won't know what to choose. If the retail location periodically provides free samples of beer, it helps beer drinkers try new styles without committing to a six pack. As a result, more people are more likely to try more beer.

This is a great for craft brewers who often survive on razor-thin margins. Paul Graham, president of the Central Waters Brewing Company, acknowledges this when he is quoted as saying, "Some people are hesitant to spend money on a beer they haven't tried before. This would give them a chance to sample our product before they purchase it." This legislation could potentially help smaller craft brewers compete with the macrobrewers.

This is great for the beer movement in the United States. For a long time, beer meant american light lager (e.g. Miller Lite). Then it meant american light lager and stout (e.g. Guinness). Then it meant american light lager, stout, and pale ale (e.g. Sierra Nevada Pale Ale). Now it pretty much means every kind of beer from every brewing tradition on the planet, plus experimenting with new ways of doing things. Helping people understand that beer can taste like fresh cherries (e.g. New Glarus Belgian Red) to espresso (e.g. Central Waters Bourbon Barrel Stout) and everything in between will help maintain diversity of brewing portfolios. And it may be exactly what is needed, given that the Capital Brewing Company discontinued Capital 1900 and Kloster Weizen, two worthy and unique offerings by a local craft brewer.

And finally, it helps raise the profile of beer drinking by making it placing it rightfully as wine's equal.

Assembly Bill 122 is a good measure that will help Wisconsin business, benefit Wisconsin residents, and maintain Wisconsin's reputation for beer. Although it has been assailed by critics, their arguments are very weak compared to the tangible benefits that AB122 provides. The state assembly should not delay its passage.

Book notes: Camembert

2007-04-07T21:50:00.000-07:00

I just finished reading a particularly surprising and delightful book called Camembert: A National Myth by Pierre Boisard. It was originally published in 1992 as Le Camembert, Mythe National, but it wasn't published in English translation (thanks to Richard Miller) until 2003. In posting notes about this book I don't intend to dig up old news ("Kuwait has just been invaded, the implications could be...") but to help give this book some of the attention it deserves. As of the time of this posting, it has not received a user review on Amazon's or Barnes and Noble's online stores. Perhaps the book has an uncanny similarity to its subject: both the book and the cheese are difficult to approach, but that very aspect is the very basis for its merit. Peter Hepburn said that Camembert is "suitable only for academic food and French studies collections." Put one way, this book is erudite and engaging; put another, it is dry and pedantic. Which way you see it depends upon your perspective.

The book follows the full trajectory of camembert from its rural origins to its industrial transformation in the twentieth century. Camembert derives its name from a tiny Augeron village that today boasts of only 204 citizens. According to a widely-believed creation myth, camembert cheese was created by a peasant by the name of Marie Harel. As the story goes, a priest was given sanctuary from the revolution by Harel. In return the priest taught her the secret to making camembert. Harel and her descendents were the first notable producers of camembert, who gave rise to the reign of the "great families" as Marie Harel's descendents included increasingly many people. These producers rose to prominence and fell spectacularly over time. In the end, Michel Besnier ended up buying up the vast majority of camembert producers in the latter half of the twentieth century and industrializing its production.

Boisard casts the story of camembert's creation into serious doubt. Although there are extant birth and death certificates for a Marie Harel of Normandy, there is evidence that she lived in Roiville at the time – not Camembert. Boisard notes references to "Camembert cheeses" as early as 1702, so it seems as though the cheese existed before its supposed creator. What is more likely to have happened, Boisard reasons, is that Marie Harel was able to take credit for an older cheesemaking tradition. Although it seems unlikely that anyone would be able to claim credit for something that's been around for a long time, I remembered the on-going dispute over the terms Budweiser and Pilsener. Both words are used by American companies, but they refer to the Czech cities of Budweis and Pilsen respectively. The aforementioned American company has gone so far as to sue Czech breweries in an attempt to forbid them from (correctly) calling their beers Budweiser.

When I picked up the book I thought I knew what Boisard was going to say. "Camembert used to be so good. But then industry came along and wiped it all out leaving us with nothing but ersatz camembert." Although Boisard tries to provide a balanced narrative, you do come away with that impression. What I didn't expect was that the tragedy of camembert goes even further, and yet that hope for the cheese remains.

It's not just that the camembert of Marie Harel is no longer made; it's that it's not even possible to make it anymore even if someone really wanted to. When camembert was known only inside of Normandy -- that is, before it went national -- it was a truly rural product. It was fermented with Penicillium camemberti, which caused it to have a blue, green, or black mold. Urban consumers exhibited a strong preference for white camembert, which was made possible with the help of the Institut Pasteur by using P. candidum instead. This change almost certainly affected the taste of the cheese, by all reports, by removing the cheese's "peasant bite" (i.e. it became less sharp). But because P. camemberti had been use for so long, cheese factories were infested with it. Factory by factory, the bacteria was eradicated since it was viewed as a precursor to a product defect. The last known colony disappeared in 1961. No known culture of P. camemberti exists anywhere in the world today.

Moreover, the world in which camembert was born into is daily becoming relegated to history. Traditionally camembert was made from unpasteurized milk. In order to not wreck havoc upon a cheese factory, the milk has to be be sanitary. Sanitary unpasteurized milk must be collected with extreme diligence. The udders must be thoroughly cleaned. It must be stored as cool, but not too cool, temperatures, and cannot be allowed to stand for much time before it is used. Unpasteurized camembert, like all unpasteurized cheese, derives its unique flavor from its terroir. Modern cows are not only an inferior and untraditional breed -- Holsteins -- but are likely to not eat from the pasture as they once did. Modern dairy operations operate on a scale where these traditions are difficult or impossible to maintain. If the cheese maker can't trust the farmer, he will have little choice but to pasteurize the milk he receives. If the cows' milk has a lower butterfat content, it can't be made into the same cheese as it used to be.

As the European Union solidifies into a cohesive unit, the few remaining producers of unpasteurized camembert are under new pressure. There have been proposals that all cheeses produced in the EU must be pasteurized, presumably to optimize safety. One hopes that integration into the EU will have the same effect that it did on absinthe, which became legal everywhere in europe. The pasteurization issue combined with the invention of a ladling machine that makes camembert the "traditional", if automated, way, the future of the cheese certainly appears to be imperiled. I say "traditional" not traditional because this machine cuts the curd, which is not allowed in the traditional means of fabrication.

Boisard deals harsh criticism to Americans. Before 1949, when unpasteurized cheeses that had been aged for less than 60 days were banned in the US (per 21 CFR 133), Americans loved camembert cheese and imported more of it than any other country. Sometime in the latter part of the twentieth century, Americans became obsessed with food safety. In their zeal to eliminate bacteria from food, they did away with anything good or distinctive in camembert. Indeed, nearly all of the camembert available today in the United States is aggressively bland and insipid. Pasteurization removes any local nuance from a cheese.

This outrage could be justified if people were keeling over from consumption of raw milk cheeses. Yet americans were eating unpasteurized cheeses for hundreds of years and europeans have been eating raw milk cheeses for thousands of years without widespread sickness or fatality. Pasteurized cheese, on the other hand, has been shown to cause extensive sickness from time to time. You might object that if the improperly pasteurized milk causes sickness, then surely the unpasteurized cheese would have also caused sickness. But one of the main reasons why milk is pasteurized in the first place is to make up for inferior quality. If the raw material were of higher quality, it wouldn't be necessary at all. Perhaps efforts should instead be focused on education and microbial testing of milk entering the cheese factory.

Anyway, Camembert is an excellent book. My only complaint is that it doesn't come with samples of cheese! It may make me sad for my country, but I have hope that someday real cheese will again be allowed into the country.

... I understand that unpasteurized camembert can be ordered online. The blogging community should really have a "Gandhi marches to the sea to make salt" moment and all eat camembert contraband on one day. If bloggers can break political scandals before the mainstream media, bloggers can help craft sane food regulations.

A response to Vinography

2007-03-25T01:45:00.000-07:00

I wrote this piece in response to Alder, who is the homme behind Vinography.

Alder wrote an article in which he argued that technological modification of wines helps winemakers stay on their vineyards, and benefits the wine industry in France (especially Bordeaux). While I am not an authority on wine economics, I think his overall argument is marred by a fundamental difference of opinion when it comes to quality and purity. Whether I think the application of modern winemaking techniques helps winemakers is an issue that I don't know enough to address, and consequently leave the matter to others.

Without further ado...

It seems odd for Alder to assert that wine quality is necessarily reflected in higher sales. Is supermarket plonk wine good because it sells so well? It's not true of any other food product: Kraft cheese slices versus Hook's 12 year cheddar, cheese whiz versus a veritable brie. So why does he think it's true of wine? Greater sales may result because a product is of higher quality, but that is certainly not true a priori.

I've tended to agree with Karen MacNeil when she writes, "One of the most insidious myths in American wine culture is that a wine is good if you like it. Liking a wine has nothing to do with whether it is good. Liking a wine has to do with liking wine, period."

I agree that wine makers, like all kinds of farmers, need support to be able to stay on the land. While I agree that wine makers should be allowed to make wines that people like more, that doesn't necessarily make them better wines. The wines may or may not be better, but there is no logical relationship between like-ability and quality.

As for technology in wine making, I think the anti-technology camp is similar to the aversion that many serious beer drinkers and home brewers have to flavorings and adjuncts. If I were brewing a coffee stout for example, I would want to use grains that have been roasted to an appropriate extent to generate the correct Maillard flavors. This practice is better than throwing some coffee beans into the brew kettle and adding the flavor that way (although many good caffeinated beers are made that way). Indeed, I think one of the real pleasures of many beers is the fact that their flavors come from very simple sources: barley, hops, yeast, and water (e.g. the banana flavor of a hefeweizen from the yeast and fermentation conditions). In a blind taste test, I might not be able to tell the difference. But if I knew how they were both made, it's pretty clear to me which one I'd choose.

And it's the same with wine.

A wine that has been "manipulated" in one way or another may not be evident upon taste. But I think many of us would agree that we'd rather drink the wine that hasn't been oaked to mask certain flavors, chaptalized to cover-up a yield that's too large, etc. These techniques have their uses, but they can be used for good just as much as for evil.

To take this to the absurd extreme, imagine if flavor companies became interested in manufacturing the molecules that make up wine flavor. These chemicals could then be mixed with water and ethanol, and voila! Wine! Consistent replication of the finest Bordeaux and Barolo vintages with no chance of off-flavors, spoilage, or corking! Even if the products couldn't be differentiated from the original wines by a mass spectrometer, I wouldn't drink them.

Ever.

Beerfest

2007-03-10T23:59:00.000-08:00

I wanted to avoid the movie Beerfest like BMC, but I knew at some point I'd have to say a few words about it. And that time is now.

The premise of this comedy is pretty simple: two guys go to Oktoberfest in München and get introduced to a beer-drinking competition called Beerfest. They get roundly insulted by the reigning world-champion German team, and the Americans unwisely challenge them and lose. The Americans spend a year training for a rematch and win. It's basically a sports movie.

Beerfest is really a mixed bag of bar nuts, some of them savory, some past their prime, and some rotten to the core. Since this isn't a film blog, I'm not about to actually review the movie so much as provide commentary on parts of it that I think will be relevant and interesting to the readers of Pint and Fork.

Perhaps the moment that made the movie worth the $3.99 I spent to watch it was the insults the Americans got from the europeans. They got called malt-beverage drinkers. Sadly, many people have lost their acquired taste for traditional, complex beverages like beer, wine, and fine cocktails. Traditional alcoholic beverages like wine and beer have been demonstrated to have numerous and wide-ranging health benefits. It's true that many Americans grew up chugging Mountain Dew, and have grown into adults drinking Mike's Hard Lemonade -- which has all the complexity of a solution of citric acid, sugar, and ethanol. And, obviously, I think that's a bad thing. Traditional alcoholic beverages, especially beer and wine, are Hieronymus Bosch; malt beverages, alcopops, and crude mixology are the covers of Hallmark cards. A gimmick, a laugh, an insight that, once understood, loses all of its value. I've been enjoying porters for five years now and I learn something new every time I drink another.

There's a part in the movie when the main characters find the long-lost recipe for the best beer in all of Germany, and proceed to make it at home. There's a scene where they're standing over a pot of boiling wort and they add a can of amber John Bull Malt Extract. This is completely absurd on a variety of levels. John Bull Malt Extract is renowned for its high dextrin content, which makes it ideal for making heartier British ales which are pretty much the exact opposite of the helles style that they presumably were drinking at the competitions. Second, no German beer recipe would ever use malt extract. Germans look down upon the use of malt extracts like no one else, and for good reason. The unique character of many German lagers can only be derived via decoction mashing, the really old school way of brewing. Third, beer formulations are almost never as extensively recorded as cooking recipes. That is, the recipe will give the quantities of the necessary ingredients; the brewer must know how to combine the ingredients. I believe professional bakers operate similarly.

Nevertheless, the characters had a beer revelation when they tasted their homebrew. Beer made at home can be really, really good. And beers are created very unequally. Sadly many people suffer from outrageous misconceptions surrounding homebrew. Dark, heavy, icky, sugar-filled, exploding bottles, undrinking, cheap buzz, equivalent to moonshine, toxic, it'll make you blind, it's illegal... And sadly, many people don't realize they're drinking bad beer. To some extent, that's fine. I drink soda like Coca Cola, and I realize that I could be drinking Sprecher, Lake Front, or Stewart's. (In my defense, I'm a beer geek not a soda geek.)

I was worried that the movie would be all Miller Lite here and Bud Light there and Coors over there. But there was no mention of BMC, nor any BMC taps visible in any scene in the movie. The only established brand depicted, Späten, is of course one of the world's premier bock breweries.

To be fair, the movie did have some genuinely funny moments. For example, there was a scene when the main characters turned down a suitcase full of euros for a suitcase full of US dollars ("euros... what's that worth? Like pesos?").

Now onto things that I didn't like as much.

Beerfest touches on some extremely controversial topics with jaw-dropping insensitivity. The portrayal of Germans in the movie is the Hans-und-Frans stereotype directly from Central Casting. There's also a Jew (portrayed as intelligent and metrosexual) who was encouraged to compete in Beerfest because it meant he'd get revenge against the Germans. Ok, holocaust reference. That could be ok, but later in the movie one of the German characters puts down the Jewish character on the basis of his religion. This causes the offended character to have "the eye of the Jew", eyes with bright gold stars of David in them. As a plot device, that sucks.

The movie had a tremendous amount of senseless nudity and otherwise unwarranted sexual depiction. A lot of women lose their shirts throughout the course of the film. And it turns out that one of the characters is a prostitute. Now, I appreciate and enjoy the female form as much as anyone, but this isn't Stripes. The unrestrained depiction of mature content de-elevates the entire film.

More importantly, however, I worry that the movie reinforces negative attitudes about beer. The characters drink massively, wildly unrealistic quantities of my favorite libation, and get drunk and do stupid things. Beer has so much more to offer other than ethanol. Drinking, especially the Bavarian drinking tradition, is something to do while you're doing something else like socializing or eating. As such, moderation is extremely important and many look disapprovingly upon drunkenness. The movie is so silly that I'm not going to be pedantic and suggest that Beerfest encourages these behaviors. But I don't think it can be denied that there is a subset of people who consider beer a drug, a disease, something that should be forcibly removed from society before it kills us. And to some extent these people do have a point. Alcohol is responsible for a large number of deaths every year, and may encourage violent, abusive, or otherwise unfortunate behavior. However, these people draw the wrong conclusions. It's not alcohol that's responsible so much as an overdose of alcohol. Nevertheless, a movie like this supports this negative impression of beer and the kind of people who enjoy it. That impression is the Animal House, party every night, drink to absolute stomach-pumping drunkenness, fratboy stereotype of alcohol consumption. While that model fits many people, it fits those who enjoy craft beer like kids' gloves.

I couldn't help comparing the movie to Sideways, otherwise known as The Movie That Panned Merlot. In that movie, there's a wine geek character who displays a range of emotions to which the audience is led to be sympathetic. He is articulate, knowledgeable, and sensitive. His friend enjoyed wine as a recreational beverage, and in contrast he was inarticulate, brutish, and a shameless womanizer. None of the characters in Beerfest are even as good as the latter character in Sideways.

Beerfest doesn't digress on how marvelous, complex, and diverse beer can be or try to improve audience appreciation for the beverage the way Sideways did. And although I fault that movie for slowing the plot down unnecessarily, it was something that wine geeks presumably liked and caused and gave the film value within that niche market. Sadly, Beerfest has no such hooks that elevate the movie above the trite, predictable, unartful flick that it is.

Am I embarrassed, even ashamed to have seen it? Of course. But did I enjoy it? Surprisingly, yes. Yes, I did.

Ankle Breaker Ale, part 2 of 2

2007-02-25T23:16:00.000-08:00

While it may be rather assuming to review one's own homebrewed beer, rest assured that I do not review beers, I merely provide tasting notes. Maybe at some point I'll explain why I think reviewing anything as subjective as a beverage is bunk the way most reviewers do it. I, on the other hand, merely want to convey to my readers what's inside the bottle since the smellavision and tasteavision haven't yet been invented (despite Emeril's best efforts).

My first homebrew is West Washington ESB, otherwise known as West Washington Ankle Breaker Ale. It is so nick-named because I fell down some stairs when I was loading the (former?) West Washington Brewery in the back of my car. My ankle wasn't really broken, but I did have to go to the e-room (not the Escoffier kind!) and get the kind of assistance that only Röntgen can provide. But enough about me...

The bottle I sampled burst open with a hiss of cascade aroma that was unexpectedly slightly sweet and somewhat malty. The color can best be described as a orange-yellow, and the beer has fairly good clarity despite exhibiting significant chill-haze (no finings or cold conditioning). It raised a nice head of about 3 cm that sustains itself nicely. As a result of ample carbonation that is perhaps beyond traditional British style, the head remained a fluffy beige color covering the entire surface of the beer and that resulted in excellent lacing. There was some sediment in the glass as a result of bottle-conditioning. Some of the sediment was actually suspended by the carbonation, resulting in an interesting spectacle. I imagine this would only become more interesting as the number of Ankle Breakers consumed within the last day increases.

The taste opens with a hint of malt and Kent goldings hops. A bitter sensation follows that seemed to move sideways across my tongue in waves. The strong malty backbone comes close behind, which balances out the bitterness. The maltiness is similar to whole wheat bread crust. There are also some cascade notes, which brings pine, resin, lemon, and orange flavors into the mix. As the beer warmed up, some licorice notes were detected. Although being unexpectedly light, the beer has a very ale-ish character that isn't too clean. There are flavors contributed by the yeast, but they are subtle. This was accomplished by not straining the yeast (pitching plenty of yeast cells and maintaining a normal fermentation temperature). The aftertaste is very similar to sourdough.

Ankle Breaker is very easy to drink, and feels smooth on the tongue despite the carbonation. This might contribute to the sense of lightness noted above. The hop-flavors seem a little out of focus, which may have been caused by using bottled water from Mishicot, Wisconsin where the limestone rock surely contributes alkalinity to the water. Some pH adjustment may have been beneficial.

I am happy with my first homebrew, and hope to continue brewing as a collaborative partner at the new M233 Brewery (tentative name).

Ankle Breaker Ale, part 1 of 2

2007-02-24T23:17:00.000-08:00

Last November, I made my first foray into homebrewing and the result is a magnificent extra special bitter... if I say so myself.

The beer came out at 4.3% alcohol by volume, and 81.4 IBUs. I noted an initial gravity of 1.042, and a terminal gravity of 1.010. I also underpitched the yeast by 21.1%, equivalent to 78.9 billion yeast cells.

The recipe:
The Starter
362 g amber dried malt extract
8 g cascade hops (5.3% alpha acid)
0.5 gallon water
1 vial White Labs british ale yeast

The Wort
1 recipe starter, 48 hours after preparation
448 g crystal malt (60 lovibond)
72 g kent goldings hops (6.0% alpha acid), t=60
14 g kent goldings hops (6.0% alpha acid), t=30
14 g kent goldings hops (6.0% alpha acid), t=15
14 g cascade hops (6.9% alpha acid), t=5
5 gallons water

The Gyle (for kreusening)
46 g crystal malt (60 lovibond)
272 g amber dried malt extract
8 g kent goldings hops (5.5% alpha acid), t=60
1 g kent goldings hops (5.5% alpha acid), t=30
1 g kent goldings hops (5.5% alpha acid), t=15
1 g cascade hops (5.3% alpha acid), t=5
0.5 gallons water

To prepare starter:
1. Weigh out crystal malts and place in grain bag.
2. Place grain bag in water and begin heating on low heat
3. Remove grain bag when temperature approaches 170°F
4. When the water begins boiling rapidly, turn off heat and add malt extract. Stir to dissolve, then turn heat on again.
5. Allow to boil for ~10 minutes and skim off any hotbreak.
6. Add hops, and allow to boil for 60 minutes
7. Cool rapidly
8. Pour into a growler bottle.
9. Pitch yeast at 68°F. Closed bottle, shake it well for one minute, then removed cap and cover with aluminum foil. Allow to ferment for 48 hours before use.

To prepare wort:
1. Weigh out crystal malts and place in grain bag.
2. Place grain bag in water and begin heating on low heat
3. Remove grain bag when temperature approaches 170°F
4. When the water begins boiling rapidly, turn off heat and add malt extract. Stir to dissolve, then turn heat on again.
5. Allow to boil for ~10 minutes and skim off any hotbreak.
6. Add hops, and allow to boil for 60 minutes after first hop addition
7. Cool rapidly. When cool, whisk vigorously for 60 seconds.
8. Siphon into a 6.5 gallon carboy, pour in starter, and attach blow-off tube
9. Allow to ferment for ten days before siphoning into a secondary fermenter
10. Allow to ferment for three weeks before bottling

To prepare gyle:
1. Weigh out crystal malts and place in grain bag.
2. Place grain bag in water and begin heating on low heat
3. Remove grain bag when temperature approaches 170°F
4. When the water begins boiling rapidly, turn off heat and add malt extract. Stir to dissolve, then turn heat on again.
5. Allow to boil for ~10 minutes and skim off any hotbreak.
6. Add hops, and allow to boil for 60 minutes after first hop addition
7. Cool rapidly.

Bottling
1. Add 0.8 quarts of gyle to beer and stir well
2. Transfer beer into bottles and cap

Tune in tomorrow for pictures and tasting notes!

Chicken Little

2007-02-17T08:45:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I think policy-minded food bloggers are like Inspector Clouseau in The Pink Panther Strikes Again when he delivers the line, "Now then, what do we know? One, that Professor Fassbinder and his daughter have been kidnapped. Two, that someone has kidnapped them. Three, that my hand is on fire."

In case you haven't heard, the USDA has expressed interest in changing some poultry-related trade rules with China. Specifically, the USDA wants to import cooked chicken products from China provided that the chickens originally came from the United States or Canada.

To which part of this development have bloggers devoted their attention?

The part where they get their facts wrong.

Many reputable blogs, most notably Eat Local Challenge, conveniently forgot to mention that the imported chicken will be cooked to safe service temperatures. In fact, Expat Chef went so far as say that the chickens would be "processed" (which normally means slaughtered and broken down) in China. That is not, in fact, what the USDA has in mind. The idea is that the chickens would be raised in the United States or Canada, slaughtered here, and then sent overseas to be cooked. This cooked chicken will then be imported back into the US.

Moreover, many sources ground their objection to the policy in a supposed risk of HPAI H5N1 avian influenza. This risk is greatly exaggerated. The World Health Organization says that conventional cooking temperatures can completely inactivate the virus (PDF, 204 kb). The temperature the WHO gives, 70°C (158°F), is substantially less than the proper safe service temperatures given by the USDA. Yes, that temperature has to be reached in all parts of infected meat to kill the virus. However, this CCP is just as likely to be performed adequately here as anywhere else in the world. If undercooked contaminated meat did get through, it is possible that there could be a HPAI outbreak in the United States as a result. But while it increases the risk, I think most would agree that it is an acceptable one with the proper control measures.

The USDA has to approve each processing facility on an individual basis. After reading Fast Food Nation, I have serious doubts about whether a USDA inspection actually means anything. I mean, you can't tell me that there are the same kinds of negligence in US processing facilities as there are with the problems noted by Food and Water Watch in a letter to Congress. But the real objection, then, should be to clean up the poor condition of many domestic poultry processing facilities.

But there are several points that I feel haven't gotten the treatment they deserve.

First, this is OLD news. The policy was proposed on November 23, 2005 and blogs are only now crying foul?

Second, what in the ham sandwich are we doing importing cooked food from other countries? The real problem that I have with all of this is that food has gotten to be such a commodity that we're importing what can only presumed to be Chicken McNuggets and Hungry Man Dinners. I can understand importing raw foods. But cooked foods? What ever happened to the joy of cooking food yourself? Since when were we worker bees content with MRE rations? If that doesn't illustrate just about everything that's wrong with the food industry, I don't know what does. This doesn't mean that meat cooked abroad should be banned, but the fact that there's such a demand for crap food should be alarming to everyone. And to say nothing of the fossil fuel expenditure to send chickens across the Pacific. Twice.

Third, this arrangement was developed through diplomacy with China. The idea is something like this: if we import chicken from China, they're more likely to import our beef. Why don't they want to import our beef? Because the US government has a "if you don't see it, it must not be there" approach to BSE. Instead of, you know, testing a statistical sample of cows continuously to ensure food safety (and indeed, preventing independent companies and individuals from performing such tests by law) as other places like the European Union and Japan have done, we'd rather outsource more jobs and increase our chances of dying of the avian bird flu (if some analysts, with the caveat noted above, are to be believed). You would think that at some point it would be in our interests to actually take responsible steps to improving the quality of meat in this country in a documented and verifiable manner so we don't have to bend over backwards for other countries to accept our agricultural exports.

And even if this plan goes the way the US wants it to and China starts importing US beef, we're still increasing the risk and potentially promoting the spread of BSE around the globe.

Finally, many bloggers founded their objections on terms that seem racist to me. Rutsuyasun at Terminus Reality said, "Do we trust China to properly cook the chicken? I don't." This from a country that has been making chicken dishes for a very long time. This from a country that produces "our nice crap" as Stephen Colbert recently put it. But in all seriousness, many sophisticated products come from China from pharmaceuticals to electronics to organic-labeled food. If there were an outbreak of H5N1 avian influenza in, say, Spain, would these same people be saying that they don't trust the Spanish to properly cook a chicken?

The real issue is that there is a demand for chicken cooked in far away places. Cooking is no longer something that is done in our own homes or even our own local restaurants. This is a new step toward the delocalization of food and cooking. But we don't have to buy it. We don't have to settle for less. You can still buy a chicken from your local farmer.

The Cookie Cutter

2007-01-23T20:46:00.000-08:00

In today's Wisconsin State Journal, columnist Bill Wineke took a stand against a new line of dolls for young girls. These dolls look normal enough, except that they come with a Bible lesson, cookie cutters and a recipe, and a list of activities. In his column, Wineke argues that such toys could have a deleterious effect on the upbringing of girls who might, as a result, aspire to a life of traditional domesticity.

Fair enough. All children, whether boys and girls, should decide for themselves what kind of life they want. For many, this involves some balance of a career and a family. Others may ultimately decide to do one or the other. It's not clear to me that one choice is inherently better than the other. Feminism, after all, is about giving women the right to work as their skills and desires dictate, not about women working. Toys play a role in that upbringing. I played with a lot of GI Joes when I was little, and for the longest time I wanted to attend the Naval Academy. So it's not unreasonable based on my personal experience with toys that a domestically-oriented toy might encourage girls to place too much emphasis upon family life, just like GI Joes maybe encouraged me to develop too much interest in military struggle.

What is unreasonable is Wineke's many unwritten assumptions throughout his article. For one thing, it's not clear to me that Leah, Elisabeth, and Abigail are really all about staying home, never thinking about working outside the home, and smashing the many contributions of feminism. They're dolls, and children impose their own narratives onto them -- not the other way around.

Since this is a food blog I'll go into but one of thing that gave me pause. Wineke wonders if "making cookies is the highest aspiration we can set for our daughters."

Since when were cooking and baking trifles, spurious activities that should not be taken Seriously? Learning to cook is good thing. It encourages healthy eating habits, independence, and gets you doing something with your hands. And it's a craft that anyone can take pride in, and whose product appeals to everyone. It can lead to an increasingly respected profession on top of that. Cooking can be incredibly simple or incredibly complex. I'm sure if they were instead Science Dolls that came with a protractor, Wineke would ask if drawing circles was "the highest aspiration we can set for our daughters." It's not like Science Doll owners would be deriving Euclid's Elements with it.

It bothers me that most people view cooking in the context of home economics, rather than a craft. This approach, reinforced by public education, seem bass ackwards to me. The food I made in home economics was not stuff that I'd ever want to eat. We made pizza by toasting some bread, spreading some canned pasta sauce on top of it, along with some pre-grated cheese, and pre-sliced pepperoni. Could you imagine coming home from work and making that for dinner? Yeah, I can't either.

Cooking is an important skill, and an important component of a cultural identity. If that identity is reflected by the "pizza" I learned how to make in junior high, then it's a sad state of affairs. Children should be taught to make food that tastes good and that they can take pride in. When I taste the difference between a canned product and one I've made myself, this little lightbulb has always gone off in my head telling me "so this is what it's supposed to taste like." Once you taste the difference between something as simple as homemade stock, as opposed to the canned stuff, you're hooked. Not because someone made you to combine ingredients somehow or because it's good for you or because it saves money. But because it's what you actually want.

If Proverbs-reading, feminism-crushing, cookie-baking dolls motivate children to actually make a cookie... well... that's something important, isn't it?

The GRAS is always greener...

2007-01-13T23:18:00.000-08:00

Health-minded organizations and bloggers have suggested that the FDA remove salt from the list of food ingredients that are generally regarded as safe (GRAS). Most notably, the American Medical Association jumped on the bandwagon last year. The argument goes something like this: Salt is bad for you. It can cause high blood pressure, and increase your chances of having a heart attack. And studies have linked an over-consumption of salt with everything from asthma to osteoporosis. Clearly anything that increases your chances of finding yourself at the bottom of a six foot hole is not safe, and should not be "generally regarded" as such.

Proponents of this idea do have a point, although only to a limit. Many ready-to-eat convenience foods and restaurants serve salt way in excess of the recommended daily allowance of 5.8 g. This practice is bad for the health of diners, who might otherwise be led to believe that the food they chose is healthy given a variety of common label claims (low fat, heart smart, etc.). Reducing salt intake by 50% as the American Medical Association recommends would likely contribute to better health.

However, I kind of wonder how many of these activists have actually looked into the regulations they want changed.

First and foremost, what does it mean for an ingredient to be have GRAS status? Well, it actually might be easier to say what GRAS doesn't mean. According to the FDA, "GRAS ... status does not guarantee a substance's safety."

Now that we have that out of the way, let's get down to business. In 1958, the US Congress passed a measure that divides all things added to food into four categories: food additives, prior sanctioned, generally regarded as safe, and color additives. Food additives, what activists argue salt should be classified as, must be approved by the FDA before they can be used in any amount. Substances that have GRAS status are said to have a "long, safe history of safe history of common use in food" or have been adequately demonstrated to be safe by science. GRAS substances don't need to be tested because they have been used for such a long time that the safety is taken for granted.

This sentiment is codified in law in title 21 of the Code of Federal Regulations section 182.1 ("21 CFR 182.1") where it is stated

(a) It is impracticable to list all substances that are generally recognized as safe for their intended use. However, by way of illustration, the Commissioner regards such common food ingredients as salt, pepper, vinegar, baking powder, and monosodium glutamate as safe for their intended use. This part includes additional substances that, when used for the purposes indicated, in accordance with good manufacturing practice, are regarded by the Commissioner as (generally) recognized as safe for such uses.

In struggling to define what GRAS status means, I found consolation in the fact that the FDA can't seem to define it either. At any rate, the ensuing sections provide a list of substances that are generally considered to be safe. This list includes everything from alfalfa to zedoary bark and amusingly lard and hydrogenated tallow (when contributed to food from cotton or cotton fabrics used in dry food packaging).

My main objection to the reclassification of salt is that it is not the consumption of salt that's unhealthy, it's the over consumption that results in adverse health effects. Within recommended levels, salt is absolutely essential for the human body to function. Consuming too much of nearly anything will bring you to harm, as the news story that came out today of a woman dying of water intoxication so poignantly demonstrates. If drinking too much water will kill you, so will consuming too much lactic acid or zein. And especially ethanol (the chemical that makes you drunk). So in challenging the GRAS status of good ol' sodium chloride, the entire basis of the GRAS classification is being challenged if dosage is ignored. Everything is bad for you if you consume too much of it, therefore nothing can be regarded as safe?

The bottom line is that people have been seeking out salt to eat for thousands of years. It can't be that bad for you.

If the proponents of the measure have anything going for them, it's that the FDA could do a better job of making sure that salt levels are reasonable. Indeed, the government already mandates that (21 CFR 182.1)

(b) For the purposes of this section, good manufacturing practice shall be defined to include the following restrictions:
(1) The quantity of a substance added to food does not exceed the amount reasonably required to accomplish its intended physical, nutritional, or other technical effect in food; and
(2) The quantity of a substance that becomes a component of food as a result of its use in the manufacturing, processing, or packaging of food, and which is not intended to accomplish any physical or other technical effect in the food itself, shall be reduced to the extent reasonably possible.

Well, then, the amount of any GRAS substance added to food must be the very least necessary to accomplish its function. Most fast food products probably add salt in excess of this limit. However unless otherwise stated 21 CFR only applies to the manufacture of food products, not restaurants (see 21 CFR 1.327). Then again, many prepackaged food items probably contain unreasonable amounts of salt as well. The FDA could challenge the manufacturers of these products to reduce the amount of sodium in their products.

I have mixed feelings, though, about the FDA compelling manufacturers into strict compliance. For one thing, just because something is unhealthy doesn't mean that it should be illegal. The sodium content of all prepacked food is already required thanks to 21 CFR 101.9, so consumers can if they are sufficiently inclined be knowledgeable and make reasonable decisions accordingly. Eating The Big One is bad for my health, but the government shouldn't prevent me from eating it if I want to. And besides, government involvement tends to make things suck. Take a look at Chicago banning the sale of foie gras.

Eating a healthy diet is important, and salt is a critical part of one. To the extent that we'd all be healthier if we ate less salt, I applaud the AMA for the reminder. Their argument, however, doesn't make sense in the context of federal regulations. And, frankly, it fails the common sense test too.

Attack of the clones

2007-01-08T21:20:00.000-08:00

For those of you who haven't yet heard, the FDA issued a statement last week that concludes that milk and meat from cloned animals is safe to eat. While the press has taken this as an announcement that the FDA has conclusively decided that cloned meat is safe, and many bloggers have responded with alarm, things might not be so bad as they appear.

For starters, the FDA is not making this stuff up. From a regulatory standpoint, the question of the safety of cloned meat is a valid one. The FDA is charged with investigating the issue and reaching a decision. It seems the FDA consulted the professional literature on the subject and found insubstantial evidence that cloned meat is unhealthy. In response, they drafted a risk assessment, risk management plan, and guidelines for industry. And issued the press release that started this whole debate.

At first the issue seemed downright bizarre to me. After all, who would want to clone farm animals? Who is pushing for this and why? The who half, at least, is easy: the mega-dairy industry.

In the conventional dairy industry, revenue is proportional to the volume of milk produced. The more milk is produced, the higher your profits can be with the same size herd. Farmers from top to bottom do everything to maximize production. They feed cows the bovine equivalent of Science Diet. They restrict and often deny access to pasture. The milk production of each cow is often closely monitored until the cow's production starts to decline at the age of four, at which time it is slaughtered. There's nothing wrong with wanting to make the best living you can. And if consumers ultimately wanted their milk and meat from pastoral settings, they would demand it with their wallets. However, cloning offers the possibility of refining this a step further. A good cow can be cloned. Then these clones can be mated to produce an entire herd of cows that produce a lot of milk.

One source has said that the cost of cloning one animal is something in the ball park of $20,000. As a result, the idea is that farmers would clone a small handful of animals and then breed the clones the old fashioned way. When these clones get older, farmers would like to be able to sell these animals for slaughter. Thus, the chance that an individual would consume a clone is ridiculously small.

However, there are many reasons why farm animals should not be cloned.

The first reason that jumps out at me is genetic diversity. Traditionally, milk and beef came from the kinds of cattle in the local community. Due to slit-throat competition, many of these farmers have opted for breeds that have a milk production that is copious and has a desirable fat content. Today, one breed of cow -- the holstein -- accounts for over 90% of the US dairy herd. Genetic diversity ought to be preserved as a buffer against disease if for no other reason. The cloning of livestock only exacerbates this problem by reducing the genetic diversity in that one breed of cow.

The cloning of animals for food pushes the US away from the rest of the world, which would seem to be bad economic policy. The US is already on thin ice with our "if you don't look for it, you won't find it" approach to BSE. If the EU or Japan decided that they weren't going to import US meat that resulted from cloning, the entire meat industry in the United States would be significantly compromised. There is no analytical test to determine if an animal has been cloned, and so there is no way for a country that bans cloned foodstuffs to selectively block its entry. US farmers, then, would have to either slaughter entire herds or face closed markets abroad. You'd think that US farmers would want to raise their livestock in a way that would allow it compete or even oust its competitors. Cloning livestock for food does the opposite.

Third, competition in the dairy industry is fierce. The twenty large price tag for cloning an animal is a hugely expensive proposition for many dairy operations. If a farmer can't pony up the money, they'll be at a competitive disadvantage. If they can pony up the money, they lose a great deal of capital which could threaten the financial solvency of the business. The net effect is to encourage the trend toward large scale confinement operations, and discourage traditional family-run dairy operations.

Fourth, ground meat is often a mixture of the meat of hundreds of animals. One cloned cow in a herd results in a whole batch of potentially "bad for you" meat.

Fifth, and I believe this point to be especially important, is that the absence of evidence is not evidence of absence. Just because studies have failed to demonstrate any negative health impacts due to the consumption of cloned meat doesn't mean that it's safe to eat. Many of these studies have not been conducted for extended periods of time. While there's no bio-logical reason to suppose that cloned meat is in any way different from eating traditional meat, the long-term effects are not known.

As a result of any one of these factors, including food safety, the FDA should opt against the sale of cloned animals for food. Failing that, the government ought at the very least to require food from cloned animals to be labeled as such. Consumers should have the ability to make a reasonable choice as to what they eat and what they don't.

First Taste: Capital Vintage Ale

2006-12-28T14:21:00.000-08:00

The Capital Brewery (Middleton, WI) made some waves this year by releasing a beer that's just begging to be aged. As an experiment, I want to drink my "Capital Square" four-pack over the next year and trace its development. To achieve a baseline, however, I needed to open one now. Tentatively, I'm going to label the remainder of my bottles as follows:
Bottle 2: open first day of spring 2007
Bottle 3: open first day of autumn 2007
Bottle 4: open January 1, 2008

It's true that most beers do not develop with age beyond a certain point, but then again most wines don't either. What makes strong ales so well suited to aging is their above-average alcohol content and aggressive hopping. Weighing in at 8.5% alcohol, this beer is definitely within style norms for this high gravity ale.

The twist-off bottle opened with a hiss bursting with Kent goldings and cascade hop aroma, nuanced by some yeasty and mineral notes. When poured vigorously into a glass, the nose demonstrated extreme restraint. Only a decided yeast and faint hop aroma was detectable.

The ale had a rich, warm copper color that was perfectly clear. Many small bubbles rose to the surface, but the carbonation was understated as is appropriate for the style. This lead to a small head of about 2 mm that disappeared almost instantly. The color was unexpectedly light, given the style, but this fact made the beer more surprising and interesting given the stiff hopping and malty backbone.

The flavors are dominated by a progression of complex malt flavors that progress across the mouth like a parade. The first taste is bready like childhood memories of grandma's house. This flavor morphs into a more biscuity maltiness before fading into a warm, generic malt flavor. The hopping is up-front, but not dominating, resulting in a beer that is quite bitter with little hop flavor or aroma. There are hints of vanilla, orange juice, and the tart quality of grapefruit as the beer warmed in the glass. The flavor experience is intense as the beer is slightly viscous and the flavor seems to concentrate on the back of the tongue and on the roof of the mouth, possessing a tannic quality I would normally associate with a red wine. There is also a fair amount of residual sugar in the flavor that gives me high hopes for the continued development of this ale. The beer is almost immediately warming, and is strong enough to demand sipping. This more rewarding than it sounds, however, as the taste persists in the mouth for several minutes.

I don't want to make this beer sound like a brute that would knife you in a dark alley or steal your wallet. It's not that. The flavor demonstrates an admirable level of restraint, which makes the flavor experience very precise and controlled despite the strength. The beer has a great ale-ish character, a certain wildness to the flavor that isn't too clean, that wasn't reined in by the brewer to make it more polite and docile. Even the carbonation attested to that, as more carbonation would certainly have made it overly bitter and astringent on the palate. It would have been easy to push this beer too far and wind up with a barley wine. The very fact that the Capital Brewery instead got Vintage Ale is a remarkable feat of craftsmanship.

With any luck, this craftsmanship with shine for some time to come.

Spoiled

2006-09-30T19:53:00.000-07:00

People have asked me why I haven't supported groups like the Organic Consumers' Association or the Family Farm Defenders. These groups have admirable goals but their voice is deleteriously affected by "off topic" opinions.

Before I dish, let me say that I have the greatest respect for these groups when they are "on topic." I owe a debt of gratitude to the Organic Consumers' Association for bringing to my attention a study by the Cornucopia Institute which names brands of milk are labeling their milk "USDA Organic" despite being from industrial farms (i.e. a violation of 205.239.1-2 of the National Organic Program regulation). I respect the Family Farm Defenders for their opposition to industrial scale farms, rBGH, genetic modification of food products, and the conditions which favor BSE.

The mission statement of these groups is as follows

Organic Consumers' Association: The Organic Consumers Association (OCA) is an online and grassroots non-profit public interest organization campaigning for health, justice, and sustainability. The OCA deals with crucial issues of food safety, industrial agriculture, genetic engineering, children's health, corporate accountability, Fair Trade, environmental sustainability and other key topics.

Family Farm Defenders: Our mission is to create a farmer-controlled and consumer-oriented food and fiber system, based upon democratically controlled institutions that empower farmers to speak for and respect themselves in their quest for social and economic justice. FFD has worked to create opportunities for farmers to join together in new cooperative endeavors, form a mutual marketing agency, and forge alliances with consumers through providing high quality food products while returning a fair price to farmers.

It would seem odd, then, that these groups would go out on a limb to do things that are politically controversial, completely unrelated to their mission statements, and divisive.

Example one. The Organic Consumers' Association links to an article written by Heather Wokusch for the progressive opinion website Common Dreams in which she intones -- completely without evidence -- that Karl Rove was personally responsible for the anthrax attacks following the September 11 attacks as well as the nerve agent scare on Capitol Hill earlier this year. She goes on to suggest that the Karl Rove might use "some form of bioweapons attack," invade Iran, or capture bin Laden in October to rally the conservative vote for the November mid-term elections.

Example two. The Organic Consumers' Association links to an article written by Allan Uthman for the leftist website AlterNet whose mission involves opposition to the "right wing media machine" and building a "progressive echo chamber" that argues that that the US is becoming a police state based upon ten current events. He argues that the confluence of everything from "touchscreen voting machines" to "signing statements" (i.e. executive orders) to the prosecution of "high-ranking whistleblowers" (i.e. the polite term for someone who leaks information that you find useful or with whom you agree) is "becoming a police state."

Example three. Alongside books with clearly applicable titles like "The Way We Eat: Why Our Food Choices Matter" and "Food Not Lawns: How to Turn Your Lawn into a Garden" there are titles with no applicability like "The Best War Ever: Lies, Damned Lies, and the Mess in Iraq" (the cover of which sports a comic image of "King George") and "Towers of Deception: the Media Cover-up of 9/11" (which argues that Bush was personally responsible for the 9/11 attacks). These are books with extraordinarily controversial content that doesn't apply to the OCA's mission, yet the OCA endorses them anyway.

Example four. Family Farm Defenders has endorsed the pacifist organization Farms Not Arms. This organization believes that resources spent toward martial causes is "misappropriated" and "wasted" because it could be used for ending "poverty, injustice, and religious intolerance." Interestingly, this group is officially endorsed by George Naylor, the president of the Organic Consumers' Association. I consider pacifism a radical political idea, and one that is extraordinarily divisive.

Example five. When Anna Lappé spoke at the Food for Thought Festival in Madison a few weeks ago, she shared a story in which she verbally sucker punched food scientists and made numerous attacks against "white men". (In the interests of transparency, please note that I'm a professional chemist working in industry. My opinion on this matter is thus biased. I'm also male and am as proud of it as any feminist is of being female.) She relates a story in which she obtained a press pass to visit a scientific conference on industrially processed foods. Being someone interested in real food, she was disturbed that each attendee praised industrial foods to a panel of like-minded scientists. So disturbed, in fact, that she asked the panel of food scientists why, if their products were so safe, a major company that wasn't in attendance at the conference paid a south-east asian country several million dollars to by-pass requisite food safety testing before their product could be imported. When the panel didn't have a coherent response and she was evicted from the conference, Lappé felt vindicated in her view of industrial food being unsafe and unwilling to have a dialog with the public. To great laughs, Lappé told the Food for Thought audience that she was told that her question was "off topic." If her anecdote demonstrates anything, it's that she's too eager to draw negative conclusions of entities that are the "bad guys" according to her weltanschauung. If an antievolution activist (presumably a "white male" from Kansas) asked a pointed question that favored creationism at a conference of evolutionary scientists, Lappé would probably applaud conference staff for evicting the member for being "off topic" and confrontational. When she does the exact same thing, however, she paints herself as a victim and a heroic crusader standing up against the Man. I don't think she fully understands that food companies are businesses. She wants to "have a dialog" with these companies, but she doesn't seem to realize that these companies would have to pay someone to have a dialog back to her. I'm not sure she'd appreciate it if Monsanto would call her up where she works and ask what temperature her thermostat is set to, or how may gallons of gas she's used to promote her books, or what the environmental consequences of manufacturing the ink for her book might be.

Please understand that I'm not a policy strategist. But I would think that if I were going to promote a cause, I'd want to get as many people on my side as possible. I'd put my argument forward in its most pointed, most basic state. That is, I'd do what Habitat for Humanity does. Habitat founder Millard Fuller believes in what he calls the "Theology of the Hammer." That is, whatever religious, political, or personal beliefs you have, everyone can agree that no one should be forced to be homeless. Everyone can find common ground by taking up a hammer for a common cause to confront a common problem. It doesn't matter if you're a Christian or a Muslim or an atheist. It doesn't matter if you voted for George Bush or John Kerry or Ralph Nader. Everyone agrees that it's a bad thing that some people are forcibly homeless.

I shouldn't have to sign on to nutcase conspiracy theories, pacifism, political pessimism, or be ashamed of being a "white male" scientist to join others in expressing my support of real food.

Similarly, I would think that everyone can agree that food should be nutritious, plentiful, delicious, healthy, and ethical. The Organic Consumers' Association and the Family Farm Defenders agree, too. But I'm withholding my support until they dedicate themselves solely to the promotion and defense of real food -- and stop clowning around.

Tasting Notes: Fraoch Heather Ale

2006-09-11T22:12:00.000-07:00

In honor of my friend Heather's twenty-first birthday, I sipped at one of the world's oldest and rarest beers. Before Humulus lupulus became the bittering ingredient de rigueur of beer, people were making beer with what ingredients that they could find on hand. And in Scotland, where hops can't grow well anyway, this meant using the flowers of the abundant heather plant.

This beer style was nearly forgotten until homebrew shop owner Bruce Williams took a gamble with a family recipe for "leann fraoich" (heather ale in the gaelic language) and began brewing in Argyll. Before long, he expanded his operation by contractin with the family-owned Maclay Brewery in Alloa. Williams opened a quaint new brew house in Strathaven in 1997, but he still brews some of his beer under contract with Maclay's.

Only a handful of brewers have taken up the challenge of brewing a beer with heather, instead of hops. This is, no doubt, a challenge because the heather can be added as bittering hops (during the boil) and finishing hops (at the end of the boil and sparging). It's easy to imagine that the methods of brewing with hops are well known, and that any brewer who forgoes them for heather is placed on a fairly unforgiving learning curve with few peers to help.

Fraoch Heather Ale, being the standard bearer of a re-emerging beer style, promised to be a good introduction to the Scottish tradition of ancient herbed ales.

The bottle bursts open with a gentle breeze of floral aromas. Upon further inspection, the smell is extremely reminscent of walking into a greenhouse filled with flowers. A number of very well-defined flower aromas grace the nose. Underneath the obvious, however, there's a layer of pleasant grassy, earthy, and hay-like aromas. Strangely, the beer has a sweet smell to it that made me worry that the ale would be cloying and undrinkable to my pallate. Once I put my nose into the glass, I resolved the sweetness as a fruity plum aroma.

The beer itself is a brilliant orange-gold color when held up to lamp light. The turbidity of the ale is a striking feature, helping to accentuate the color and making it seem slightly darker than it actually is. Fraoch is only lightly carbonated, and thus doesn't raise much of a head. I think this is appropriate for the style.

The beer opens with a surprisingly sweet sensation in the front of the mouth. This rapidly gives way to an ephemeral taste of bitterness all along the tongue. The nature of the bitterness is threw me a bit off guard, as it wasn't a hop-like bitterness. Rather, it was an extremely dense floral bitterness that couldn't be more potent if you chewed on flowers. After the bitterness begins to recede, a slightly dry sensation is left in the back of the mouth. This effect of flavors rippling across the pallate, teasing it every step along the way, makes it a very drinkable beverage. But because of the bitterness, it certainly is not sessionable. Despite a lack of carbonation, the beer fizzes on the tongue slightly which leaves the pallate refreshed after each sip.

The bitterness was held in place by a robust Scottish malt flavor that is by itself slightly reminiscent of much heavier Scotch ales. The maltiness dominated the floral aroma when the beer was chilled out of my refrigerator. As it warmed up slightly in the glass, the floral aromas really opened up and outweighed the malt flavors. This flavor transition was interesting, of course, but I felt that the beer somehow lacked balance as a result.

There's a slight minerality to the flavor, which helps bring out the other flavors in the ale. At 5% abv, I was happy that I didn't taste or feel any ethanol.

Despite not being a "real ale" (i.e. one that is cask-conditioned), it was an interesting and delightful beer on which to reflect on the origins of brewing. And the unique combination of floral aromas and biting bitterness makes this beer as unique as it is enchanting.

Nina Planck Recap and Response

2006-08-27T14:15:00.000-07:00

For those of you who missed it, author Nina Planck spoke about her new book Real Food yesterday at Cafe Soleil. Planck grew up on an ecologically minded vegetable farm eating what she now calls real food: the traditional all-American diet. No, not that one, the other all-American diet of meat, whole milk, pies made with lard, and vegetables aplenty. She rose to some prominence in founding and operating fifteen farmers' markets in London with her company London Farmers' Markets. She was also the director of New York's famous Greenmarket.

From her teenage years to her writing of The Farmers' Market Cookbook, Planck practiced strict veganism on the basis that it was the healthiest diet. At the same time, she put on twenty five pounds (despite running six miles a day, six days a week), came down with colds and the flu, felt moody and irritable, had dry skin, and bad fingernails. As she gradually added eggs, butter, meat, and fish back into her diet, these symptoms quickly went away. She lost "at least" twenty five pounds and generally felt healthier. Surprised by these results, Planck was inspired to do her own research into the healthiness of traditional diets.

And we all know that traditional foods are much maligned by nutrition professionals. Margarine is recommended over butter, vegetable oil is recommended period. Eggs yolks and organ meats are to be avoided at all costs. Processed milk is recommended over farm fresh milk.

Planck's book demarcates an alternative perspective on nutrition, apart from that of the traditional professionals. Her aim, then, seems bold and subversive, but Planck intimates that the government's dietetic standards are always out-of-date and are possibly "bought off" by the food industry anyway. Her talk focused on referencing historical data that would indicate that when a community's consumption of "real food" declines in favor of "industrial food," three diseases of civilization (obesity, diabetes, and heart disease) always increase. She also makes an attempt to rationalize these trends by referencing voices from outside of the science nutrition mainstream. In particular, Planck blames so-called diseases of civilization on the increased consumption of trans fat, corn oil, and sugar.

At the present, no health-oriented organization has supported Planck's heretical views.

Before I respond to Planck's ideas, please understand that I haven't read her book and that my views are purely that of an analytical chemist listening to an author's talk. I am not a nutritional expert, so it is not my place to support or refute her thesis that real food is good for you while industrial food is bad for you.

On the whole, Planck presented an interesting and bold case for real food. However, I found Planck to have made some points that have only the most tenuous of support, and some other points that seemed downright disingenuous. Allow me to explain:

1. Correlation does not necessitate causation. Much of Planck's argument has us believe that heart disease, obesity, and diabetes have increased because of the rise in "industrial foods." She makes this claim by showing how in our grandparents' generation, people supposedly ate a greater percentage of real food and that diseases of civilization afflicted a lesser percentage of the population. If we accept, for the moment, that "real food" really has declined to the degree that Planck believes, she does nothing to logically connect the decline of "real food" to the increase in diseases in civilization. There are a myriad of other factors that could be causes, co-causes, or generally play a facilitative role, such as less exercise (as fewer Americans perform physical labor, either at work or for recreation), environmental factors, the volume of food consumed, or specific chemical properties of the foods that we eat – to name but a few.

And speaking of which, it's difficult to believe that the house is burning when you don't smell smoke or see fire. Perhaps Planck provides this information in her book, but she did nothing to demonstrate that "real food" has been eclipsed by "industrial food" to the degree that she claims.

2. Hasty generalization. Listening to Planck, one would think that she would still consider McDonald's guilty of dietetic sin if they served organic, grass-fed, free range, cruelty free beef, served with freshly baked whole wheat buns, organic tomatoes, onions, lettuce, and ketchup -- with a side of organic fries cooked in beef tallow.

Her tagline is "real food is good for you, industrial food isn't." It catches your attention, yes, but upon further inspection you see that she has no basis for bringing down all industrial food. Just those that contain trans fat, corn oil, and sugar.

If industrial scale producers of food were able to eliminate trans fat, cut back on sugar, and use different oils, Planck would have no further argument against "industrial food" except that it's not as socially conscious or energy efficient as buying food that was locally grown and raised. Planck presents her argument as a purely dietary one, but one readily understands that her argument isn't based so simply. If she doesn't like industrial food companies in part or whole because they spite local and ecologically-minded farmers with bland substitutes and try to subvert legislation designed to protected these very people and their high-minded principles to the detriment on the consumer, that's fine. But her lack of transparency on the matter is suspect.

3. Appeal to authority. Planck is constantly dismissive of the dietary mainstream and the corpus of scientific work that I imagine went into crafting current dietary guidelines. At the same time, she seems to place complete trust in "new research" whose conclusions differ from the traditional authorities in the field.

4. Ignoring root causes. Planck comes out heavily against the pasteurization of milk. In general, milk is pasteurized because the udder is so close to the anus, making sanitation both extremely important and extremely difficult. As a result of modern mega-scale milk processing facilities, the improper sanitation of one udder could result in thousands (or tens of thousands) of gallons milk becoming contaminated. Without pasteurization, this milk would be passed directly to the consumer. Pasteurization thus allows the milk industry to certify that their product in safe to consume. Milk is also pasteurized to give it a much longer shelf life, which consumers both expect and appreciate.

Now, pasteurization of milk results in a myriad of chemical changes. Maillard reactions take place, which give pasteurized milk a subtle cooked flavor. Gases are allowed to escape (which happens when you heat any liquid) which improves shelf life. Lactose is partially degraded into lactulose and organic acids. The concentration of colloidal calcium decreases. And the concentration of vitamins, including vitamin C, decreases significantly.

So, while Planck is correct in arguing that we wouldn't "have to" transport oranges across the country if milk wasn't pasteurized, her argument is disingenuous. We'd still have to transport oranges because people in Wisconsin like eating oranges and we can't grow them here. There would also be the constant threat of sickness from consuming contaminated milk, which would drive consumption way, way down.

Planck takes aim at pasteurization of milk when she should be critical of the mega-scale processing and distribution of milk.

Moreover, the nutrient content of most foods is diminished by cooking. So if you're planning on cooking those green beans, or stirring that milk into anything hot from a béchamel to a cup of hot coffee, you're destroying most of the vitamins and anti-oxidants present. Her failure to note this fact when she is critical of pasteurization was most disingenuous.

Planck's lecture was interesting, insightful, and fun. She does good work in promoting local foods, but for the moment I'll have to remain skeptical of her conclusions.

Sopa de Huitlacoche

2006-08-17T21:36:00.000-07:00

Last year, I had the good fortune to attend a cooking class at the French Culinary Institute by none other than Aarón Sanchez (Paladar, Mixx). It was one of those transcendent culinary experiences where I pushed my boundaries of what's "good to eat" way back. Chef Sanchez served up two things that I otherwise might be afraid to try: corn smut and worms. True, he did give everyone a shot of artisanal mescal, but I was awestruck by the dishes he made. They were a combination of French technique, Mexican flair, and truly fantastic flavor combinations. After a year and a half, the thing I remember most vividly about that class -- besides being outrageously thirsty by the end of the four and a half hour demonstration -- was his huitlacoche soup.

Huitlacoche is rendered into english rather ingloriously as corn smut. It's the result of Ustilago maydis, which is present wherever corn is grown. The end result, the part that cooks are interested in, is greatly enlarged kernels. The taste is an amalgamation of mushroom and corn.

Why are you looking at me like that? Yes, it's safe to eat. The Aztecs ate it, and Mexicans have been eating it continuously ever since. Huitlacoche has always been sold at a higher price than sweet corn, being considered a delicacy. Nowadays, many growers infect maize intentionally which has helped to keep the price under control as demand has steadily increased in the United States. Which is an interesting turn of events in itself, since the USDA has spent considerable time and money trying to eradicate corn smut. With the attention of Gourmet magazine, the Slow Food movement, and the James Beard Society, huitlacoche has made some cursory inroads over the last twenty years.

Speaking of the James Beard Society, you might also have heard the term "Mexican truffle" used to denote huitlacoche. This term was coined by the Beard Society in 1989 when they hosted a high profile huitlacoche dinner. The use of this phrase should be avoided, in my opinion since huitlacoche is completely different than a truffle. Truffles are foraged; huitlacoche has been grown since ancient times. Truffles are tubers; huitlacoche grows above ground. A single truffle in a room and can fill it with a pleasant scent; huitlacoche has no scent at all (this is how you can tell if it is huitlacoche and not something that might be poisonous). Truffles grow in the wild; huitlacoche grows among a staple crop (maize is the new world equivalent of wheat in the old world). Truffles are said to invoke passion; huitlacoche doesn't. Because of the almost comical lack of similarities between the two foods, it makes little sense to confuse things by associating one with the other.

Back to my story. I had been so eager to make chef Sanchez's soup that I was prepared to use canned huitlacoche until I read that Rick Bayless compares them to canned asparagus. As luck would have it, the Troy Community Garden in Madison had a farm festival last weekend. The highlight of the festival was, for me, the huitlacoche cooking demonstrations and the sale of fresh huitlacoche for the bargain price of $2 per ear. The huitlacoche was harvested earlier than would have been ideal, but I wasn't about to complain.

That night, I made a batch of sopa de huitlacoche, which is one of the simplest soups to make.

Simply heat some vegetable oil (or home-rendered lard, if you want to be authentic) in a skillet until very hot. Sauté one onion cut into half moons and two cloves of minced garlic until the onion is translucent. Add two roasted Anaheim chiles and one roasted poblano chile, all of which have been peeled and seeded. Cook for three minutes while stirring. Then add the huitlacoche of at least three ears of corn along with fresh epazote or cilantro. Reduce heat to medium and allow to simmer for five minutes.

Blend with a little chicken stock (about three cups) to create a smooth puree that has a thin consistency. Stir in half a cup of heavy cream, and bring to a boil. Simmer for five minutes before serving hot.

What stuck chef Sanchez's huitlacoche soup in my mind was the unique flavor experience of it all. Initially, you tasted an earthy-mushroom-corn flavor from the huitlacoche before being hit with a gentle dose of heat. I've never had a soup that had multiple ingredients mixed together that you still experience distinctly. If that's what I was trying to accomplish, I unfortunately fell short.

My version, while good as its own product, didn't have the interesting parade of flavors that I experienced last year in New York. The result was that of a simple corn-mushroom soup, which was still tasty. The huitlacoche was immature, and I used cilantro instead of epazote (the fresh epazote at the store didn't look terribly fresh).

In the end, I think this exact situation is what makes cooking so interesting. An expert can write down exact step-by-step instructions on how to make a dish, but an amateur can still only approximate the results of the expert. It makes every dinner a discovery.

Fortunately, this one turned out to be delicious.

The onion I used was from Tipi Produce (Evansville, WI) and the heavy cream was from the Blue Marble Family Farm (Barneveld, WI).

On the trail of Saveur

2006-08-11T23:19:00.000-07:00

We who cook often find ourselves trapped in our kitchens, nose to the cutting board. We eschew travel, loath to squander the opportunity to reprovision our pantries with the fresh bounty that we dream of as Yeats dreamed. Loath to miss the fleeting smells of cherry tomatoes wafting from a farmer's stand, the grittiness of loamy soil on our fingers having run them over a pile of carrots each beautiful in their uniqueness, and the quiet reverence of our fellow parishioners as our feet carry us to a place where we get a brief burst of reality as we shuck an ear of corn, undressing it to the shoulders to admire its pulchritude for a moment, knowing that there is no ear like this one that's so close, so vulnerable, so fleeting, and so dear. It is the ear that we have lusted over when we wanted to stay home from work as a refuge from a deluge of snow, when we were having an affair with ramps while flirting with asparagus, and we will dream of it again as we bootycall a pumpkin to rekindle that old flame potage de potiron. But now is the time when we revel in corn, longing to expose it completely and enjoy every last kernal before it leaves us with fond memories of companionship and resentment that it couldn't stay, like the zucchini, driving us to ever higher plateaux of ecstasy as we try dish after dish of it. But in the end, you realize that it was just another tease like everything else that you can touch but not grasp, a longing without consummation.

We have our escapes. We read about food and about its Götterdämmerung and apotheosis in becoming cuisine. We subscribe to food magazines and eagerly await their arrival the way a lesser man anticipates the coming issue of Maxim. But every once in a while, these magazines don't whisk us away on a culinary exploration of field hands' dinners in Bordeaux or fold us into the midst of street markets in Melaka, but pipes us back home into liaison with our lives as cooks and as eaters.

That was the case when I opened up the September 2006 edition of Saveur to find the Milwaukee Friday night fish fry as the cover story. It highlights the midwestern tradition as faithfully as one could expect of the writer, Milwaukee native but expatriated Daphne Beal. I would have liked a bit more mise en scene to set the tradition against the backdrop of a city with a rich but troubled history, trying to find its identity without the glory of the now defunct Blatz, Pabst, or Schlitz breweries that still stand as drab monuments to an antiquated belle epoque in the city's history. It is a city recovering from a real lack of joie de vivre that so characterizes other Wisconsin cities. I can forgive the lack of historical depth as the length of copy was surely limited, and it might have been viewed as "off topic" by the more mainstream editors. I am also grateful that Beal managed to tell the story without the usual "quaint" or "provincial" descriptions.

To me, though, the real test of the article was to visit one of the restaurants it featured. Because of its prominent downtown locale, I went to the Historic Turner Restaurant for Friday night fish fry. A striking 1883 building greets the hungry diner as he opens the door to enter into a wide hall. After ascending a few stairs, the guest is immediately greeted by the pleasant smell of food and the decorous clatter of dining. Elegant wooden walls extend to a ceiling so high that you could hardly imagine any modern building being made that way. Historic photographs garnish the walls, adding character. Unfortunately, the restaurant has gone the "sports bar" route and has deleteriously affected its historical charm by hanging large televisions all over the restaurant. Although I tried to appreciate watching the Brewers play as a cultural element essential and perhaps inseperable from the experience itself, I found it distracting.

The menu features pretty much what you'd expect: a partnership of stripped-down cornerstones of many cuisines, mostly American and German. The prices are very reasonable, given the quality of the food. But I didn't really need the menu since I was there for the fish and the potato pancakes. The beer menu was sadly uninspiring for Milwaukee. It lacked many of the staple beers that one could expect: Riverwest Stein Beer, Sprecher Black Bavarian, New Glarus Spotted Cow, or Capital Special Pilsener. It did have some beers from the Water Street Brewery Bavarian Weiss. I was also disappointed in the service as the waitron only understood the "weiss" pronunciation instead of the more beer savvy and accurate "veiss." Never having sampled the Water Street Brewery's offerings, I was pleasantly surprised with the beer. It matched the style, possessed some complexity while avoiding the cloying flavors of other "wheat" beers. They served it in the correct kind of glass, which was also a nice touch.

The cod was tasty to be sure, having been well browned on all sides. It had the pleasing flaky-tender quality of a well-cooked fish. But the potato pancakes are what really stole the show. The pancakes were made by finely grating the potatoes, which gave them a nice smooth mouthfeel as opposed to the somewhat hashbrownie mouthfeel that potato pancakes sometimes possess. They were also cooked much more evenly than we've been able to achieve in my home kitchen, which was impressive even though I know the "secret" here is just using more butter.

My only complaints about the food are the quantity and the bread. They provide much more than one person could possibly eat, which demonstrates poor portion control. Second, the rye bread was extremely uninspiring. It didn't have the deep rye flavor or the heft that bread should possess. In the restaurant's credit, the butter was served warmed instead of refrigerator cold, which demonstrated an appropriate level of attention to detail on their part.

In all, the meal was excellent. I strongly recommend getting a table at the Historic Turner Restaurant. Going there might not have been the introduction to Irish folk cooking that I've come to expect from the editors of Saveur, but it did provide introspection into my own food culture.

That and the company of good friends gathered for a great meal.

SHF 21: The Root Beer Float

2006-07-30T16:06:00.000-07:00

For this month's edition of Sugar High Friday, Sarah of The Delicious Life wants ices. Since she seemed particularly obsessed with Vanilla Ice, who will always be more "go ninja" than "ice, ice baby" to me, and since this blog is into beer, what better way to express this theme than with a humble root beer float? Like Boulud making a hamburger, I hope that I can show you that this dessert can be more than be more than the all-too-common bad marriage of bad root beer and bland ice cream.

To play matchmaker, I needed to make the most delicious vanilla ice cream and find the best root beer. The root beer part was easy. Nevertheless, it gave me a good excuse to taste two of my favorite brands together: Point and Sprecher. Since the experience was more hedonistic than I'd probably like to admit, I'll announce that I found Sprecher's root beer to be richer and more complex than Point's cleaner and more straight-forward flavor.

The ice cream offered a unique challenge in that I wanted to make the richest, most delicious vanilla ice cream I've ever had. I found three different recipes and compared their ratios of sugar and eggs side-by-side. I then decided to make my ice cream with the one with the most eggs yolks (ten) and the least amount of sugar (one cup) per quart of dairy. To be honest, I basically made Glace-Créme á la Vanille Escoffier with a few noted deviations.

To get my dairy products, I visited the new Westside Community Farmers' Market where I bought a quart of whole milk and a pint of cream from Nick Kirch of Blue Marble Family Farm. They purvey what might very well be the highest quality milk anywhere. Although I might question their claim that homogenized milk is bad for you and their use of clear glass bottles (the fat in milk is highly sensitive to photooxidation), their unhomogenized milk has a flavor that I had never before experienced.

I combined two cups of whole milk with two cups of cream in a heavy sauce pan. Then I added two Madagascar vanilla beans (from Penzey's Spices), even though Escoffier only calls for one. In this case, Madagascar vanilla beans seemed like a better bet because of their clean vanilla flavor. I let this mixture simmer for twenty minutes over a medium-low flame.

Meanwhile, I whisked one cup of sugar and a dash of salt into ten egg yolks until the mixture became pale yellow. When my dairy was properly scalded and infused, I added the strained dairy mixture into the eggs yolks via tempering. Once combined, I strained the mixture and put it back on the stove and stirred it continuously until it became slightly more viscous. Once done, I strained the mixture again and put it in the refrigerator until it reached the ambient temperature of my fridge (39° F). You want to freeze the ice cream at the lowest possible temperature above freezing to avoid ending up with a grainy ice cream.

At this point and in defiance of Escoffier, I added several spoons of my cranberry honey and a tablespoon of Mexican vanilla extract. Why? I was hoping to convoke the honey flavors of the ice cream and root beer. I also added the vanilla extract to give the ice cream an extra dash of vanilla flavor. If I were just making vanilla ice cream for eating vanilla ice cream, I would recommend against this step. However, in this case, I wanted to make sure that the ice cream could stand up to a full-flavored root beer. That's also why I chose Mexican vanilla extract (again, from Penzey's) for its rich, complex vanilla flavor.

Once my cream was at a cold enough temperature, I froze it in my ice cream maker for thirty minutes and left it in the freezer for about a day to firm up.

The resulting vanilla custard is probably the best vanilla ice cream that I've ever had. It's rich, and extremely flavorful. It combines a pleasant dairy flavor with a solid dose of vanilla. Plus, I love the light brown color and the vanilla speckles.

To make my root beer float, I spooned three scoops of my custard into a small glass and filled to volume with root beer. It was a revelatory experience to me, in that never I had a root beer float like this before. That and I always thought the problem with a root beer float was also a mechanical one. The ice cream would float on top of the root beer, making it almost impossible to combine the flavors. With a larger amount of ice cream, this problem was obviated.

In fairness, however, I think the ice cream was too good. And by that I mean that it might have been too rich and eggy for a root beer float. Next time, I will make it with a smaller number of egg yolks or simply skip the eggs in favor of Philadelphia-style ice cream. The addition of egg yolks has the advantage of making the ice cream melt more slowly, which is good unless you're looking for a fancy cream soda.

Sipping at an ice-cold root beer and savoring the creamy custard melt in my mouth was enough to make me forget the nearly 100° F weather today, one spoonful at a time.

Tagged with: SHF21 + Sugar High Friday

Beating the heat with a Radler

2006-07-16T15:59:00.000-07:00

The Radler. A mixture of lemonade and lager. With temperatures hitting 95° F today, I couldn't resist the appeal of this misunderstood and much maligned beverage. That, and I also can't resist the urge to foil Eric Asimov who recently argued against lemon and beer combinations.

Many beer aficionados disparge any combination of lemon and beer on the grounds that it de-elevates the beer into the realm of swill. I believe my father responded to the idea of a Radler by saying, "There's nothing I'd rather less do with a good beer." After all, serving beer with a lemon or a lime is strictly for Coronas and similar beers in the US. I used to agree with this opinion until I was eating out one night and the bartender stuck a lime in my Spotted Cow. Now I like Spotted Cow; it's a good, solid beer. Nevertheless, I squeezed the juice into my beer. The result was a revelation to me. It didn't ruin the beer, it just took it to a different culinary destination. It added some bright citrus taste and seemed to bring out the hop flavor a bit.

While it would be relatively easy to dismiss by opinion as heresy or an appeal to beer anarchy, I believe I can claim the support of two unimpeachable sources. First, Garrett Oliver notes that lemon can be a welcome partner to a witbeer. And second, no less of an authority than the Belgians and Germans are practically mixmasters. Even at traditional Belgian cafes serving lambic brews, small dishes of sugar sit out so that diners can sweeten their framboise. And back in olden times when beer quality wasn't as high or as dependable as it is today, Germans traditionally mixed fruit syrups into their weizens to make them more palatable. Heck, even the British have their shandies and their black and tans.

Interesting, there are some histories of the Radler circulating around on the internet. The most common is that it was invented in 1922 by Franz Xaver Kugler, the owner of a Bavarian Gasthaus (an inn with a restaurant), who mixed lemon-lime soda with beer in order to accomodate the number of cyclists staying at his establishment. And indeed, the word "Radler" does mean cyclist in German. I have no idea of whether this story is true or not, but I'll just say that I'm generally highly skeptical of creation myths. The beverage is also known as an Altsterwasser in northern Germany, leading to curious double sided cans that identify the contents for both regions. The Radler is, to the best of my knowledge, the only exception to the German Reinheitsgebot. That is, all German made beers come from only malt/wheat, hops, water, and yeast. Except for the Radler, which is permitted to be sold as a finished product despite the addition of lemonade. Perhaps because many Americans would reject a Radler as somehow unmanly or a perversion of taste, the Radler isn't imported into the United States.

To make a good Radler, I figured that I needed to start with good lemonade. Originally, I planned on using Escoffier's very own citronade recipe but I was stumped by what unit of volume a "syphon" is (such as "add one syphon of sparkling water"). After having done some research online, I decided upon the juice of six lemons, 1/2 cup fined sugar, and four cups of sparkling water. To maximize carbonation, I recommend juicing the lemons and dissolving the sugar in the lemon juice. Then add the sparkling water (I used San Pallegrino), and whisk gently to mix. This lemonade is somewhat stronger and more sour than what you're probably accustomed to from the supermarket, but I swear this lemonade is darn close to perfect. The spritzy carbonation adds a nice touch to the still lemonades that are common in this country.

Having made my lemonade, I picked up my local helles variety from the Capital Brewery (Middleton, WI). It's called Bavarian Lager and is, I think, a good expression of the style. I plan to review it in the future.

Traditional Radlers are 50-50 mixtures of lemonade and beer. So I measured out a cup of helles and poured it into my pint glass and topped it off with a cup of lemonade. If you mix it the other way, you'll get less foaming.

The resulting beverage was extraordinary.

The aroma was alive with bright citrus notes accented by two kinds of sourness, one from the lemons and the other from the beer. The beverage appeared bright gold in the glass and was graced by spritzy carbonation. But the flavor is where the mixture really took off. The flavor is very interesting, and unlike anything I had ever tried before. It's basically a sweet-and-sour experience where you taste an initial burst of sweetness and malt flavors. After a brief moment, the flavor shifts to lemonade and hops. I was surprised to detect hopping in the Radler, because I couldn't taste any in the beer by itself.

But best of all, the Radler was very easy to drink and extremely satisfying. It lacks any ethanol flavor or the warming effects associated with drinking.

Next time it's hot out and you're tempted to mix up a margarita, have a Radler instead. You won't be disappointed.

Television commentary: Feasting on Asphalt

2006-07-09T23:23:00.000-07:00

As somone who got turned onto cooking by Alton Brown's scientifically minded and entertaining show Good Eats, I'm excited that he's hosting a new television program.

It's called Feasting on Asphalt, and it will feature Alton Brown traveling around on his motorcycle and eating road food. Sounds like a good deal for Alton, not only because he loves motorcycles, but also because it gives him a chance to do more than his geeky Good Eats gig. Which after so many seasons has got to be good for his career. If he continues doing Good Eats, I hope that the quality remains at the level that it has been.

Alton Brown already got in a vehicular accident and broke his clavicle. He'll be ok, and seems to be in good spirits about it.

Before I give you the link (which in classic Food Network online fashion is totally useless anyway), I want to warn you that few things in life suck more than the Food Network's webpage. It's slow, full of ads and unnecessary java, and it crashes Firefox from time to time. Which as anyone who uses the latest version of Firefox on Mac OS 10.4 can tell you takes some doing. That said, here it is. But don't say I didn't warn you.

Edit: You may be more interested in reading about the new show on Alton's own website.

It's interesting that Alton Brown's webpage was redesigned for the debut of his new show. His old webpage, still viewable using the Internet Archive, prominently featured Alton in a long black coat considering an onion while holding a Kershaw knife behind his back. The layout seemed consistent with his Good Eats persona: whimsical, amusing, and useful. It is the first major overhaul of the website since 2001. The new layout seems to share these same qualities, but showcases his new travel show with the diner "EAT" sign on the mainpage and the "OPEN 24 HOURS" and "Guest Check" images on his store's page. Could this be hinting at a change in programming? Only time will tell.

If Alton Brown is seeking to have a travel show on the Food Network long term, I am have worries about how that would integrate into the network's regular programming. The Food Network has gone completely nuts for travel and eating out shows, eschewing shows that actually involve cooking. With Rachael Ray's transformation from the master of quickies -- er, Thirty Minute Meals -- to $40 a day, to her celebrity gossip flop Inside Dish, and her latest Rachael Ray's Tasty Travels, the network seems to have gone too far in one direction. (Note: As much as I like to make fun of Rachael Ray, I agree with much of what Jill Hunter Pellettieri says about her in Slate.) I would hope that Feasting on Asphalt, if any good, will replace existing travel programming instead of merely tack another travel show onto the regular schedule. I'm worried about the broader implications of cutting a cooking show from the primetime line-up and perhaps replacing it with another travel show. As Sara Dickerman of Slate pointed out, the network has cast its culinary talent into television exile. Jacques Torres, Wolfgang Puck, and Sara Moulton all have been virtually eliminated from the network. Even Anthony Bourdain's A Cook's Tour doesn't make it on television much any more. Now, I can understand why: culinary talent is not the same thing as television talent. Jacques Pepin is an amazing chef. But his program on PBS are not particularly entertaining. I'm told that Emeril and Mario Batali are both excellent and accomplished chefs (their restaurants are too far away to visit at this point in my life), but it's obvious that they were not made for television.

That brings up a larger issue of how we approach our time and our food. We want everything to be easy and fun. Cooking isn't just the flash of an expertly executed flambé, it's also the monotony of peeling carrots and shocking asparagus and cleaning pans. Cooking is about transforming earth's bounty into cuisine... or at least food. Which can be fun, yes. I like cooking myself. But its primary role is not to entertain us or amuse us so much as feed us. To be good at anything in life, including cooking, you have to put some elbow grease into it. You have to want it and work for it. If you have fun along the way, so much the better.

The problem is that many programs on the Food Network don't teach you the first thing about cooking. As far as I'm concerned, Good Eats is the lone survivor of the the network's obsession with hausfrau programming.

Beer and ... Eric Asimov?

2006-07-06T21:41:00.000-07:00

If you haven't noticed yet, the New York Times' very own Eric Asimov had some very brief but positive words about summer beer.

Here's the link.

This isn't as surprising as you might have expected. Although Eric Asimov seems to have a bias toward European beer over craft American brews, he's a fan of Garrett Oliver and has used his unassailable authority in the world of wine to good use in favor of great beer.

My only complaint is that he says that hefeweizen has a strange taste. It's not that strange even in the world of lagers. Sure it can taste of "cloves, smoke, bananas and bubblegum" but what makes that so strange. Belgian beers, especially dubbels and tripels, are even more clove-ey, banana-ey. amd bubblegum-ey. Witbeers have even more pronounced spice flavors.

And besides, what makes cloves and banana so strange? To me, it doesn't seem any more unusual than someone talking about cherry, chocolate, or coffee stouts. Or noting the creative use of corn adjuncts in New Glarus' Spotted Cow, for instance.

Good ideas gone bad

2006-06-27T22:34:00.000-07:00

For IMBB27/SHF20, I meant to do something special. Like make my own tofu from scratch, which is something that I've been meaning to do -- on a purely "cool" level.

I say that, of course, because as a midwesterner and as a carnivore, I honestly haven't found a reason to eat tofu just yet. It doesn't contribute any flavor to a dish. As far as I can tell, its only redeeming quality is that it isn't meat.

Still, I thought I'd give tofu the old college try. And even though the result was a complete and total flop, I thought I'd share the experience with you. Maybe you'll get a laugh out of my comedy of errors.

My idea was to take the dish I was served at L'Etoile (and served my friend) and change every element of it, but the basic idea. Instead of a red wine reduction jus, I figured that a nettle soup/sauce would make a striking impression upon the palate. Then, a layer of sautéd diced potatoes would add some body and some earthy flavors. On top of that, I thought I'd put a layer of blanched peas. And covering everything, I substituted in some tofu. The basic idea was a progression of flavors that bridge what's familiar to me (nettles and potatoes) to what's unfamiliar to me (tofu). I figured that the flavors would progress naturally from the piquant untamed flavor of the nettles to the subtle earthy flavor of the potatoes to the fresh and toasted flavor of the peas (by means of contrast) and finally to a savory end with the tofu.

Here's how I prepared each component.

I harvested the nettles by hand in Hamburg, Wisconsin in a natural forest that's been in my family's name for ninety years now. I tried to make it "nettle soup Loiseau" in honor of Bernard Loiseau of Cote d'Or fame. Having only the roughest fragmentary description of its preparation from the book The Perfectionist, I split the leaves into two groups. The first two-thirds of the nettles, I blanched in water until they had wilted. I sautéd the remainder in butter until browned. The two portions were then combined and puréed to create a striking green color. The soup was thinned out slightly with a bit of my homemade chicken stock. My dining companion described it as "golf course." Not the effect I was going for!

Before sautéing the potatoes in butter, I made sure that the butter developed a nice brown color and a strong nutty odor. My idea was to give a nod to asian cuisines by mimicing peanut oil with a Wisconsin staple. Then I cut some more CSA potatoes into a medium dice and sautéd them in the butter. At least these turned out well, since they were pleasantly earthy, crispy on the outside and creamy on the inside.

The peas were blanched in water until the green color was most brilliant and then immediately shocked in ice water. Just before service, I sautéd them in more browned butter until a small amount of browning developed.

Finally, I prepared a white wine, basil, peppercorn reduction to add flavor to the tofu. This mixture was incredibly potent, but I couldn't seem to get the flavor to infuse the tofu even a little bit. After cutting it into slices, I gave it a good rub with dried basil, pepper, and salt. Finally, I sautéd the strips in browned butter.

In sum, the result was a disaster. The nettle soup was a very pure expression of the humble nettle, but it would have been better if it had been mounted with butter and/or mixed with some savory alium flavors. While it was a pure and unadulterated expression, it didn't taste all that great.

Then, I forgot to remove that fiber that runs along the length of the pea pods. The result is that, while the peas had a good pea flavor, they had a bad fibrous texture that made them entirely unsatisfactory.

And finally, the tofu had very, very little flavor despite my best efforts to obviate this issue. I learned that I should, perhaps, marinate the tofu in a strongly flavored solution before cooking it. And second, that I should cut it into thinner strips to have more browned surface per unit volume.

I still haven't discovered the "joy of soy" and I felt awful dirty standing in line at Whole Foods buying the ultimate in hippie chow, but I take solace in Jacques Torres' famous aphorism "When you have made as many mistakes as I have, then you will know everything that I know."

IMBB27
SHF20

Brillat-Savarin's Ninth Aphorism

2006-06-25T22:21:00.000-07:00

The discovery of a new dish does more for the happiness of mankind than the discovery of a star.
-Jean Anthelme Brillat-Savarin

If the discovery of a new dish is ultimately so important, than the discovery of a new food and beverage pairing is at least worthy of some merit. I'll let you be the judge.

The combination of which I speak? Hefe weizen with blue cheese mashed potatoes and pork chops. I challenge anyone to come up with a better beverage pairing than this one. But in order to understand the pairing, let me first explain the preparation.

The pork chops were prepared very simply, by searing it on both sides and throwing the pan into the oven until done. Since I bought the meat from Virginia Goeke of Rainbow Homestead, who has some of the best animal husbandry practices, I knew the pork would be delicious and ... well, taste like pork. It did. It had a porky and savory quality that was just wonderful.

The mashed potatoes were made from ones we received from our CSA (Tipi Produce), which were grown by other organic farmers in Wisconsin (I can't seem to find my newsletter from that week... sorry for not receiving credit!). The potatoes were boiled in water and then mashed with butter, milk, and a smoky blue cheese from Oregon. To give credit where credit is due, SC was entirely responsible for the superlative quality of this dish.

The cheese is aptly named "Smokey Blue" and it's from the Rogue Creamery. The cheese has the most voluptuous creamy texture and is accentuated a distinct smoky hazelnut taste. This cheese is simply phenomenal. I picked it up at Larry's Market in Milwaukee.

This cheese imparts an extra creamy flavor and texture to the potatoes, and the smoke gives it a smoky, nutty flavor as well.

Some snap peas from our CSA were lightly blanched and served along the side.

By itself, this is a good meal. Healthy, balanced, and delicious. With a hefe weizen from the Capital Brewery (Kloster Weizen), this meal was absurd. The beer offers two very useful flavors: yeast and malt. The roasted, malted flavors latch effortlessly onto the roasted pork. Neither the big flavor of the meat, nor the strawberry sauce, overwhelmed the surprisingly robust lager. The strawberry sauce only accentuated the match, providing a bit of sweetness that matched up with the subtle initial sweetness of the beer before providing a contrast with the bitter hops.

The mashed potatoes matched perfectly. The earthy flavors clasped onto the honest malted flavors of the beer. Meanwhile, the cream and smoke found a perfect match in the yeast flavor. The combination made me laugh out loud. Really. You have to try this one.

The beer was sufficiently spritzy that it cleansed the palate and allowed me taste each element of the dish without overwhelming any of them.

I don't know how much the discovery of this combination does for the happiness of mankind, but it sure made me happy with a great meal.

What's for dinner?

2006-06-20T22:07:00.000-07:00

After a whirlwind of culinary activity last week, I have to admit it. I'm pooped. I know I SHOULD plan menus that highlight dishes that both take advantage of the season and challenges me technically. But that doesn't mean that when I got home from work today I had anything up my sleeve. I didn't.

So I did what anyone would do and opened up my fridge. But unlike many people, I did more than reach for a frozen pizza. In 45 minutes, I had one of the tastiest and healthiest meals I've made in some time on the table.

I made a noodle dish with sautéd zucchini julienne and baby carrot rondelle. I invented a sauce involving some white wine that I had sitting in the back of the fridge and some snap peas.

To prepare, reduce some white wine and cidar vinegar with a bay leaf and some whole peppercorns. Meanwhile, cut green and yellow zucchini into julienne. Cut the carrots into thin discs. Boil all but a small handful of peas until tender to the bite. Then sauté in butter until with a leek and ramp until everything has picked up some browning. At some point in this process. Set aside. Blanch the reserved peas just until brilliant green and immediately shock. Combine with the other carrots and puree. Strain into a clean pot, adjust seasoning, add a dash of EVOO, and finally mount with two tablespoons of butter.

The rest of the dish is easy. Just boil the noodles, sauté the zucchini and carrots and combine. At some point in preparing this sauté, add a dash of cidar vinegar and allow to reduce. When the vegetables are cooked but before they've developed significant browning, combine with the cooked noodles.

Sauce and plate. I garnished with some minced parsley.

Enjoy!

(The zucchini, snap peas, leek, and ramps were from Tipi produce. The carrots were from JenEhr Family Farm.)

Why I've been off the air for so long...

2006-06-20T21:05:00.000-07:00

Sorry for not posting more lately. I've heard the grumbling from the front and back of the room alike, but I have a good excuse ... I swear!

I've had to work extra lately, and in my spare time I've been busy in my kitchen. Namely, I:
1. Made another two gallons of chicken stock (fond blanc de volaille). It's way better than my last batch. There are probably two reasons there... First, I used three chickens instead of two. Second, I bought my chickens at Whole Foods. Can't beat that free range flavor. I also was much more careful to preserve its clarity. It's still not great because I pushed down on my meat and vegetables to attain a higher yield, but I covered for a little bit by filtering it all through coffee filters.
2. Celebrated my brother's wedding. Congratulations again!
3. Did some entertaining. For my friend ES, I presented three courses based upon the color red. First, I served up a panaché de pois et petits carottes dans consommé (peas and baby -- red -- carrots in consommé). It was pretty good. My first time making consommé, and I was stunned by how easy it is. Just throw some egg whites in a stock with some extra mirepoix and you just wait and baste the raft. I threw in oignon brûlée to get a deeper color. I based this course on what I ate at L'Ecole in NYC last summer. That dish was almost just an excuse to serve knife cut practice, though...

Next I served flank steak Argenteuil et pommes sautées, sauce Béarnaise (flank steak with asparagus and sautéd potato with Bernaise sauce). I made this dish by sautéing a large dice of two potatoes in clarified butter until nicely browned on all sides. Plated them. Then I covered the potatoes with a number of evenly cut asparagus spears and some Bernaise sauce. Finally, I browned some Priske flank steak, and then cooked it to 135°F (high end of medium rare) in the oven. I sliced it into several strips, each about a centimeter thick, and arranged them on top of the asparagus as to form a star (more like an asterisk). This dish was inspired by a trip to L'Etoile where they served this meal with a cabernet reduction jus and new potatoes.

And finally, I made soufflé glacé aux fraises (strawberry souffle semifreddo) for dessert. I took the recipe from (where else?) the Lutéce cookbook. Basically, you make whipped cream and a mousse (but cook the sugar to 200-something degrees first!) and then fold them together with a strained strawberry puree. The recipe also has you prepare some basic almond pastries and place them inside of the souffle dish to give it some extra texture, flavor, and mechanical support. I did the recipe one better by taking some butter, cooking it until it was well browned and nutty smelling, and poured it over a whole bunch of whole almonds. After a sprinkling of salt, I roasted the nuts for approximately ten minutes in my oven. Then I removed the skins on the almonds and chopped them very finely. Fold this into a mousse, spoon into circles, and bake. Some mousse-cream-strawberry is put into a souffle dish first, followed by a pastry, followed by more mixture, followed by another pastry, and then you make it stand out the top of the dish to make it look like a souffle. All very cute. After everything is assembled, the whole thing is frozen.

ES brought a pretty tasty côtes du Rhône to drink, but I already threw out the bottle and I didn't drink it under my standardized conditions anyway ... so no review of the wine.

4. Went strawberry picking at out CSA's farm in Evansville, WI. It was very pretty, and the farmers were very friendly people. It was nice meeting them and knowing where our food comes from. And I imagine that they like knowing where their produce is going, instead of just receiving checks in the mail. The day was overcast, and some thunder storms were predicted later in the day, so the turnout was quite low. It was also nice meeting the farm's security -- I saw two cats running around, both of which seemed to like all the activity and attention.

We made ten pints of strawberry jam and four pints of strawberry freezer jam. Just tonight, we had some of the latter over some ice cream. Delicious!

Apparently, some of my relatives are already placing orders for jam for raspberry season!

And with that summary, I hope to return to my normal update schedule of one to two posts per week.

carne con chile colorado

2006-05-25T21:37:00.000-07:00

It's 80° F in my kitchen right now and it's almost midnight, but just two weeks ago the temperature was still in the 40's and 50's. I warmed up with an interesting soup from Rick Bayless' cookbook Authentic Mexican. I've always had a singular fascination with Mexican cuisine because I feel that it's one of the truest examples of a truly American cuisine. So learning how to cook real Mexican cuisine has long been on my to do list... and it's remained there for a while. The way I see it, there are too many French techniques that I need to learn or improve upon first before embarking on "le voyage culinaire" as Daniel Boulud might put it.

But with cold weather, I thought that I'd take my baby steps into a cuisine about which I know bupkis. Paging through the book, I found one recipe that I had to try because it took something which is familiar to me (chili) and turns it into something both unfamiliar and authentic.

Regardless of what Bayless says, I like Texas-style chili. But still, I was left to wonder about the origins of this all American dish. Bayless' carne con chile colorado seems to be a good guess. It's a simple stew of new mexico chiles, onion, garlic, and pork. And yet it works out to be a sublime combination. Earthy, fruity, and absolutely delicious.

To make it, you'll need to find either new mexico/california chiles or chiles de la tierra. These are dried chiles. I didn't conduct an extensive search, but I was only able to find new mexico chiles at my local grocery store. When you cut open the bag, you'll immediately feel the room fill up with capsaicins. You know, the chemicals that make foods spicy. You'll feel it in your eyes and on your hands as you seed and vein eight chiles. Just make sure to wash your hands thoroughly after working with chiles (capsaicins are hydrophobic -- they dissolve readily in fat, but not in water).

Heat up a heavy pan to medium heat and toast the peppers, holding down on them so they have as much contact as possible with the heat. This will help develop complexity of flavor. As soon as their color changes a bit, plunge them into a pot of boiling water. After all the chiles have been toasted, prevent the chiles from floating by weighing them down with a heavy bowl. Half an hour later, much of the spiciness of the peppers is gone leaving only good honest chile flavor. Remove the chiles from the water and reserve one cup of the liquid.

Put a bit of olive oil in the bottom of a sauce pan and get the pan to medium heat. Place a good amount of freshly ground cumin and a pinch of dried oregano into the pan. Toast just until the room fills up with the aroma of the spices. Then immediately place the chiles, the reserved liquid, 3 cloves of garlic, and half an onion into a sauce pan. Puree with an immersion blender.

Rick Bayless calls for the sauce to be strained at this point, but I opted to leave it as it is. I attended a cooking class with Aarón Sanchez once and he said that Mexicans don't strain sauces as religiously as the French (a Mexican will look at it and say, "that looks good"). Although Bayless surely outranks Sanchez in his expertise, I at least had credible grounds for not doing so. Upon examining the final product, however, I found that straining might have eliminated the chile sediment that unattractively adorns the bottom of the bowl after you've eaten the rest of it.

Continue cooking the sauce, scraping the bottom of the pan frequently, until it becomes thicker and darker.

Meanwhile, cut some pork into a large dice. Heat some oil in your heaviest sauté pan and cook until there's good browning on all sides of the meat. You'll understand when you eat the dish, but believe me when I say that the development of browning is critical to the success of the stew. When sufficiently browned, add the pork into the sauce. Deglaze the pan you cooked the pork in with some water (or if you thought ahead some additional reserved liquid from earlier). Cook this stew until the meat is very tender. On a cold winter day, I'd suggest finishing the stew in the oven to simplify the process.

Correct seasoning and serve hot. By itself, I didn't find the dish to be entirely sufficient. As a result, I ate a sourdough baguette and a farmers' market salad with it -- both of which were remarkable partners. I'd serve the soup in warmed wide and shallow bowls as the pork feels lost in a taller container.

I'd drink brown ale or pilsner with this dish. You don't want anything to stand in the way of the honest chile flavor. Really, you'd just want something to clear the palate a little and provide a bit of contrast.

My first CSA box!

2006-05-22T21:33:00.000-07:00

Months after other bloggers were able to proclaim "le printemps est arrivé," I finally feel like it's really spring here. Yes, I know, the Dane County Farmers' Market has been going for a month now. Yes, I know, the temperature has already gone past 80° F. But last week Thursday, I picked up my first CSA box.

This summer, Sarah and I will be getting much of our vegetables from Tipi Produce in Evansville, Wisconsin. Farmers Steve Pincus and Beth Kazmar are fairly well known in the region, seeing as how their produce is sold at many of the co-ops in Madison. A coworker of mine also says that they grow the best carrots she's ever had. I can hardly wait.

In the mean time, though, we got:
• a head of lettuce
• just as much spinnach
• arugula
• 1/2 pound asparagus
• ramps
• a bag of raddishes
• rhubarb

If I make anything interesting, I'll be sure to share it with you all.

I'll be thinking about raddish soup.

Tasting Notes: Capital Maibock

2006-05-20T23:59:00.000-07:00

How time flies! I know that I've been somewhat negligent in keeping with my promise to review a maibock every week of May.

Well... maybe I'll still get around to reviewing four of them.

Our next stop on the Maibock tour bus takes us to Middleton, Wisconsin, home of Capital Brewery, which is one of the finest lager breweries I know.

The beer pours a beauiful light copper color that demonstrates extraordinary clarity. There was moderate carbonation that somehow managed to raise a monster head that lasted about three minutes in my pint glass. After that, a spotty, white film was all that was left of the head. No lacing was evident, as is consistent with the style of the beer.

The aroma consists of strong malt flavor, freshly baked sourdough, and steel. Surprisingly, no ethanol scent was observed.

But the real brilliance of the beer is exhibited in its flavor.

The taste seems like a kaleidoscope of flavors where as soon as you think you've pinned one of them down, it's turned imperceptably into something else. The first is a heavy hand of malt, which fades gracefully into sourdough bread, then before you know it is tangerine, and finally orange. Flavor hits the palate decisively and remains for a while before receding fairly quickly. The beer is slightly more viscous than I was expecting, which could contribute to the impression of completeness of flavor experience. Despite having light to moderate hopping, it was surprisingly easy to drink. Unlike the Sprecher Mai Bock, which I reviewed previously, this beer is not dry hopped. The Capital beer also differs from the Sprecher one in that this beer has no obvious yeast flavor.

There's definitely a big beer flavor to this beer, but I couldn't taste any ethanol. And that's despite the fact that I could sense the effects of the alcohol by the time I was half way through the glass. The alcohol by volume isn't reported on the bottle or online.

The taste of the beer is extremely elegant and focused, making the Capital Maibock a very refined beer indeed.

Blog Commentary: Eating Locally

2006-05-13T23:34:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking about a recent post by Barrett Buss of Too Many Chefs fame. For those of you you don't know, this is a classic and established blog that's always unique and interesting.

Mr. Buss casts a critical glance at the virtues of eating locally. The title "Eat local? No thanks." says it all. He argues that eating things that have been produced locally is over-rated. First, he observes that food is not merely epicurean but also economic. He points out that empires have historically depended upon the trade of food to maintain their hegemonies. Second, he argues that this trade has played a transformative role in ethnic cuisines. Most people forget that the tomato is a new world ingredient, and yet it is a cornerstone of Italian cuisine today. And third, he argues that it is unduly restrictive and perhaps outdated to restrict one's diet to those foods that can only be produced locally. In Chicago, that would mean eliminating bananas, mangoes, and some hot peppers from your diet.

To be fair and balanced, he does make a case for local produce having a "freshness advantage" and presumably other factors of culinary superiority. He does encourage his readers to support local farmers' markets and to buy shares in CSAs.

However, as to the author's thesis that eating globally isn't a bad thing, to this I must steal Mr. Buss's verbage and say "Phooey!"

I'm obviously not prepared to enter into a debate about the economic factors influencing world empires throughout history. So, yes, I'll agree that food is a commodity whose trade has economic dimensions.

But I will contest Mr. Buss on the point that the addition of global produce to our diet is a good thing. I will freely admit that I a can offer no punditry on the subject of Italian cuisine. But to say that Italian cuisine depends upon the tomato seems like a myopic "spaghetti and meatballs" perspective. As Anthony Bourdain notes in his Les Halles Cookbook, Italian chefs wait for tomatoes with much anticipation. They don't use the flavorless supermarket fruits that most of us got confused for real, delicious tomatoes. The Italians eat many, many tomato free dishes as anyone who has paged through one of Marcella Hazan's fine cookbooks will tell you.

Secondly, Mr. Buss's comparison of Italian food without the tomato to German food without the potato (another new world contribution!) is literally comparing tomatoes to potatoes. Tomatoes are extremely fragile fruits that are at the peak of their culinary usefulness for a brief moment in the year and then disappear as quickly as they came. To eat a good tomato, you must savor it at the peak of their season. The tomato is savored for its brilliant fruity flavor. The potato is a horse of a different color. It is a root vegetable that can be stored for months in a dark cellar without any significant harm. The potato is enjoyed for its earthy neutrality, whose starch makes it easy to combine in any number of dishes. So it's not obvious to me that you can compare the role of the tomato in Italy to that of the potato in Germany.

Although these matters might be dismissed as minor details that evade the main point, Mr. Buss's seems to not have noticed that the Italians and Germans produce their own tomatoes and potatoes locally. Even if it can safely be said that these produce items have become fundamental to their national cuisines, they have cultivated them in their own fields instead of having them shipped thousands of miles. Thus, they have defined their national cuisines using local produce regardless of the botanical origins of each species. It would therefore be a mistake to argue that we would be following an Italian or German precedent in developing a cuisine based upon global produce.

Mr. Buss's final argument in opposition to eating locally is that it would be sad to forego such items as "mangoes and bananas and avacados and coconuts and oranges and lemons." Maybe it's the hour, but I don't see how this kind of argument has any kind of traction. Saying "no" to something because you don't want it doesn't correlate to an ethic. I, too, enjoy these ingredients too much to ever give them up completely. Lemon meringue pie is one of the most glorious desserts I know. But just because I like the pie doesn't mean that there aren't negative consequences to shipping lemons from who-knows-where to Madison, Wisconsin.

But therein lies an ethical line that everyone has to draw as an individual.

Asparagus Aspirations: spring noodles

2006-05-09T22:28:00.000-07:00

I adapated Nouilles Printaniéres (spring noodles) from the FCI's Salute to Healthy Cooking. Surely the French will be calling for my extradition any moment now. From a purely technical standpoint, this dish is an exercise in timing. Different kinds of vegetables need to be done the moment the noodles are done.

In my interpretation of the classic, I sweated two ramps and scallions in butter until pleasantly aromatic and the ramps had lost much of their garlicy pungency. Meanwhile, I blanched peas and asparagus until the green colors became pronounced and were just short of being done. Then, I set the ramp-scallion mixture and cranked up the flame under my pan so that I could get a quick sauté. I threw in a large zucchini (julienned) along with the asparagus spears and peas that had just been blanched. Once slightly caramelized, I added a peeled julienne of red bell pepper. Just before serving, I added four mushrooms that had been thinly sliced into the pan and continued to sauté until the mushrooms developed an initial brown color. Finally, I added the ramps and scallions back in.

Meanwhile, I cooked egg noodles in water flavored extravagantly with tarragon. Ideally, one should use long straight noodles. I used short curly noodles instead to clean out my cupboards.

To complete, I added the noodles to the vegetable mixture and stirred until well mixed. I served it in shallow bowls garnished with a bit of chopped tarragon and a dash of EVOO.

I drank Wollersheim Prairie Fumé with dinner, which I found slightly overpowering. One would almost need to whip out a good German wine famed for its transparency to make the most of this dish. If a bit of Emmentaler or Parmesano-Reggiano cheese were grated on top, the combination probably would have worked better.

An authentic pilsner or tripel would probably be great matches, too. The former latching onto the bitter side of caramelized flavors, while the latter would pair with the sweet side of caramelization.

Tasting Notes: Sprecher Maibock

2006-05-03T00:47:00.000-07:00

In celebration of the month of May, Pint and Fork is pleased to announce that it's Maibock season. Every week this month, a different Maibock will be reviewed. For the non-beer crowd, you should still stick around. There's an interesting IMBB event planned for May 19.

It's also asparagus aspirations month, which will give me a chance to hopefully learn some new preparations. Such as making sauce hollandaise for the first time.

Enough with the commercials already!

Maibock is a type of bock beer that's brewed in celebration of spring. Bock beers fall into the lager category, and are typically characterized by moderate bitterness and full malted flavor. You probably have seen beers with goats on the label. That's a bock.

The style has an interesting history, as is recounted in an amusing story in Garrett Oliver's The Brewmaster's Table. Apparently the German city of Einbeck became famous for its bocks in the middle of the fourteenth century. The Bavarians didn't like being outdone by the north Germans, so they sought to regain respect as brewers. Beer, you have to remember, was a staple of life, and was therefore a key trading commodity. Duke Ludwig X of Bavaria hired a brewmaster from northern Germany to set up shop in Munich. It was there that the first Bavarian bock beers were brewed. Over time, the Bavarians became known for producing bock beer to rival that in the north. This victory was hastened by Duke Maximilian I who invited Einbeck's head brewmaster to Bavaria only to detain him there. By 1614, the Hofbräuhaus was selling bock beer to the public.

Maibocks are often confused with hellesbocks. Although both styles have much in common, Maibocks are usually lighter in color and body than hellesbocks.

Prior to Prohibition, nearly every brewery in the US served a credible bock beer. So what better place to begin on my search for good Maibock than in America's great brewing city of Milwaukee?

The Sprecher Brewing Company has been churning out this fine brew as a spring seasonal since 1986, just one year after starting out. Since then, the beer won a bronze at the 2004 American Beer Festival. As a result of the brew's longevity and awards, I had high expectations for this pint of beer. Like all of Sprecher's beer, this beer came in a 16 ounce bottle.

A variety of aromas burst from the bottle as soon as it was cracked open. A strong malt and yeast profile was most prominent, reminding me almost of hefeweizen. There's a strong bread aroma in there, too, followed by a much fainter smell of grannysmith apples. This only makes sense since the brewers put some wheat into the malt.

The color appeared copper in the ambient light of my room, but I quickly saw that it's a very pale yellow when held against the scrutiny of direct light. Really, the color is very appealing. Ample carbonation raises a moderate head upon the pour. The head persisted for a few minutes and then receded to form a beautiful ring around the glass. No lacing was visible as the beer was consumed.

Unsurprisingly, this beer reminded me of a helles ("light lager") as it has a distinct liquid bread character to it. All of the flavors seem to be in that same family. There is yeast dancing on a stage of solid malt. There's also a very slight earthy taste to the beer that becomes more apparent as the beer warms up. The taste experience is very lengthy, and the flavors become more profound but fainter the longer you wait. At 6% abv, this beer is of authentic strength and is surprisingly easy to drink. A moderate dose of hopping comes through to provide a hit of bitterness. Although I'm horrible at hop analysis, the most prominent hop seems to be Mount Hood. In all, this beer is very well balanced and holds true to the Maibock style. My only criticism is that the hopping is a tad too severe for the style, as are many American craft brews.

Because of the extent of the hopping, it's not obvious what would partner well with the beer. Although hamburgers with onions, or meatballs would make for a tasty combination. The bitterness of the hops would hook onto the meat, while the bready character would mirror the taste of the bun. I think Mexican dishes that involve beans would be worth a try. The earthiness would correspond to that of epazote, while the hops would be a good partner for brighter flavors that many Mexican dishes have.

Sprecher's Maibock is an excellent interpretation of the Maibock style. Assertive and true to form.

Sugar High Friday: Liquer

2006-04-23T21:20:00.000-07:00

I've been meaning to make a gelled sparkling wine dessert for some time now, but I hadn't really felt inspired. That all changed when I saw this months theme for Sugar High Friday, hosted by Lick the Spoon.

When I set about looking for a recipe, I was very disappointed by the results. A Google search revealed only one recipe, and that got poor reviews. (In the recipe's defense, most of the reviewers didn't actually follow the instructions correctly.) In any case, I decided that as a chemist I should be able to create my own recipe.

I opened up my trusty copy of On Food and Cooking and read that while a gelatin can be prepared with as little as 1% gelatin, a 3% gelatin solution is much more traditional and robust. Having a proper concentration in mind, I decided that I wanted to prepare two cups of dessert. I pulled out my balance and discovered that two cups of Asti weighed 450 g. Therefore, to prepare a 3% solution, I just take 0.03 and multiply it by 450 g to get 13.5 g. Since my balance doesn't read to that precision, I just rounded it up to an even 14 g. Having weighed out 14 g of gelatin (about 1.5 packets of Knox gelatin), I was all set.

I poured 3/4 cup of Asti into a heavy saucepan with 1/4 cup fined sugar (I fine sugar by grinding it thoroughly with my food processor, but a mortar and pestle would be even better). And yes I realize that I should give a mass here instead of a volume, but I was lazy and I forgot to measure it. I heated the liquid on my stove until the sugar was dissolved. I then added the 14 g of gelatin and mixed it in with a whisk. (The gelatin will clump, but you should be able to work them out with a whisk. I tried using a spoon and a spatula just for fun and neither of them were viable alternatives.) Following the manufacturer's instructions, I then let the gelatin solution cool to approximately room temperature. This would normally be what we call a "bad idea" because we're leaving a warm solution sit around for a long time, optimizing conditions for microbiological growth. If you boiled the solution first, though, this problem should have been obviated.

When the solution has cooled sufficiently, pour it back into the container with the remainder of the Asti. Use a whisk to gently mix. Then pour it into two chilled glasses so that the liquid runs down the side of the glass. Straight into the refrigerator with it and you should be all set.

The next day, I had a tasty gelatin waiting for me.

If you don't have a balance (otherwise known as a scale), don't fret. My sparkling wine had a density of about 0.95 g/mL. To find out how much gelatin you need, know that there are about 12 g in each packet of Knox gelatin. Know, however, that this density is dependent upon temperature, brand, how much carbonation has escaped, etc.

The bubbles were frozen in place, creating quite a beautiful presentation. My only complaint is that the gel was cloudy, leading me to wonder if the solution could be clarified some how.

...but how does it taste?

It's a very adult dessert, not only because it's alcoholic, but also because it feels very sophisticated. Having grown up on Jello, my mind was surprised to taste sparkling wine instead of, say, cherry. It's great fun to let to gel melt on the tongue, slowly releasing sparkling wine into the mouth. There may not be any carbonation, but the flavor that I enjoy was there in full force. The strength of the gelatin seemed to be appropriate, but maybe it was a little too much. Perhaps a 2% gelatin solution would produce a more delicate result.

Although the taste is good, I recommend using smaller size champagne flutes. I also wouldn't recommend using anything drier that brut sparkling wine, but it may take some trial and error to come up with an appropriate sweetness by adding more or less sugar.

As a caveat, the use of Knox gelatin or any gelatin derived from bovine products might carry a risk of BSE. Although the FDA has set strict standards for industry, they may not be enough.

Tagged with: SHF18 + Sugar High Friday

Restaurant Review: Royal Tokyo (Marshfield, WI)

2006-04-18T23:08:00.000-07:00

Clang, clang, clang, clang. "Showtime," announced the teppanyaki chef as he struck his spatulas against the grill. The crescendo of sound mirrored my increasing excitement as I was about to experience teppanyaki dining for the first time. The rhythmic beating evoked a meaning that Chinua Achebe might have sought.

And then there was silence. Hugo, the chef, grabbed a squeeze bottle from a neat rack and poured some on the grill. Flames rose quickly and unexpectedly to the tall ceiling. And indeed, looking up, I did noticed some blackened spots against the white plaster. Now, I have seen advertisements for teppanyaki restaurants on television. But I immediately was surprised by the sensation of heat, which seemed elemental against a backdrop of flame and food. A burst of hot air against my face and it was gone. A simple reminder that cooking is all about heat.

Maybe I should start from the beginning.

Royal Tokyo is a teppanyaki Japanese steakhouse style restaurant in the heart of the historic district of Marshfield, Wisconsin. It's located in a very small building with historic roots. Marshfield developed as a railroad town and the building was once a train depot. Many years have passed and the entire time I lived in Marshfield (18 years), I only ever saw the building as an abandoned property. It was covered with grafitti and at least one of its cobweb filled windows was shattered. Nevertheless, my mother insisted on reminding me that when I was little I wanted to buy the building and turn it into a restaurant. It seems that someone beat me to it.

The property underwent a 320 Sycamore transformation.

The bricks have been restored to and are now very agreeable looking. There are now large elegant windows. As we walked through a pair of floor-to-ceiling exterior doors, we entered a surprisingly elegant setting. A stately lounge, complete with comfortable furniture and a fireplace, is situated in the front of the restaurant. The decor helps set the stage by suggesting Japanese influence. The lights, chairs, and cabinet all seemed vaguely and generically oriental. The couch, stuffed chair, and fireplace were standard-issue midwestern and could have been anywhere.

There's a small room that houses a bar set aside across the hall from the lounge. There are two wine bottle stands adorning either wall. The back of the room is decorated with dollar bills provided by guests. Frankly, this all seemed very plebian -- especially in contrast with the elegant decor, snappy service, and high expectations. The counter behind the bar had an orderly assortment of sundry spirits, many of high quality. There was also a sake-dispensing apparatus. Predictably, I had a view complaints with the bar. First, there was no drink menu thus putting the guest in the ackward situation of having to ask the barkeep what is available. Second, the beer selection consisted of mass market brews and was truly uninspired. This being Wisconsin, I expected to at least see some Central Waters beer for the offering. Third, the wine selection was very basic and the prices two high for the quality and level of service provided. Fourth, the wine was served in inappropriate glassware. Red wines ought to be served in glasses that seem to large for the volume added to them. Our wine was served in tiny glasses.

We had hardly consumed a third of a glass of merlot when a server lead us to our table. There, we picked which five-course prix fixe menu we wanted. You really only get to pick two of the courses, because the miso soup, salad, and ice cream dessert are otherwise always the same. I opted for the "turf and surf" special of filet mignon and salmon steak. I struggled to resist their sushi, but ended up getting a cucumber roll ("ninja sushi" with five pieces for $3 - $4) added to my dinner.

The miso soup came first. It was delicately fragrant and served in beautiful bowls that do the soup credit. Surprisingly, it had extremely high clarity. Other miso soups are cloudy. I suspect this one was clarified using egg whites, because it had a off-balance light flavor. Because of the extremely light flavor, the soup seemed very graceful and almost dainty. The seaweed at the bottom of the bowl didn't taste fresh and left me craving better quality soup.

Next came the salad, which was a pleasant admixture of ice burg lettuce and peaches with soy sauce. If my memory serves me correctly, I have never had any of these items together. Nevertheless, I thought that the sweetness of the peaches presented a good contrast to the saltiness of the soy sauce. And the crispness of the lettuce was impressive given the time of year.

My special order of "ninja sushi" showed up next in the lull between courses. Essentially, it consisted of seaweed rolled around rice rolled around cucumber. The course was artfully presented upon a miniature cutting board, to which I have always been partial. Four of the five pieces were expertly rolled and all five were absolutely delicious. My only complaints are that the rolls were cut into undesirably large sizes and that the chop sticks were difficult to use. I am accustomed to ones that are perhaps one and a half times the length of the ones at Royal Tokyo, and I prefer round to square. They just feel better in the hand. The short chop sticks accentuated the large size of the rolls.

It was at this point that our talented chef took the stage. I enjoyed a nice piece of salmon. It was cooked so that there was nice browning on the outside, but the flavor was still very fresh tasting in the middle. I may even have enjoyed it less cooked than it was, but I can only imagine the pressure to conform in Marshfield. Just before service, a lemon was squeezed onto the salmon which was expressed in the final dish. It went well with a glass of riesling that I ordered for this purpose.

Next came the filet mignon, cut into bite sized pieces. Because it was cut up and browned on all sides at the last moment and because the meat wasn't allowed to rest, I expected the meat to be dry and woefully overcooked. To my surprise and delight, the meat remained perfectly tender. Every bite burst with roasted beef flavor. The taste of the dish seemed to me like a concentrated form of the smell of my mother's beef stew dish. There's no other way to say it; the course was delicious.

Next came a course of steamed vegetables, but I was so full by this point that I was largely unable to eat much more. There were the usual assortment of vegetables, served with rice. The vegetables were just slightly undercooked, although I'm glad that the chef was able to avoid the usual vegetable mush that so many restaurants serve.

The meal ended with a small scoop of vanilla ice cream in a bowl. It had a good vanilla flavor, but was otherwise not remarkable.

My experience at Royal Tokyo was thoroughly enjoyable. As someone who enjoys cooking more than food, I love seeing the dishes being cooked, smelling the cooking, and interacting with the chef. For only $25 a person with wine, the price was right too.

Royal Tokyo is a welcome addition to the Marshfield dining scene.

What is food?

2006-04-06T23:21:00.000-07:00

I recently finished reading Fast Food Nation and wanted to write about it. Not wanting to say more about something that has been written about exhaustively, I decided to see what other people had to say about the book. As I performed some (admittedly cursory) research, I realized that a lot of readers don't seem to know what food is.

(I thought I'd respond to some of the negative hue and cry surrounding the book.)

The most common reasonable criticism of Fast Food Nation is that the book doesn't talk about fast food. People rail against Schlosser for blaming everything on kids dropping out of school to BSE on the shoulders of the fast food giants. These people do have a point in one regard. Every kid has a choice to stay in school or not; Burger King doesn't have a say.

However, anyone who maintains such a view against the book is exposing a gross ignorance about food.

I won't adopt the attitude of the stern moralist who laments at how "people these days" have lost a sense of connection between the source of their food and themselves. I will say, however, that I lost that connection. Maybe as an American I never had an appreciation for where my food came from. And finding this connection again has been a wonderul discovery for me, even as I acknowledge that I have a long, long way to go.

That hamburger you get at a restaurant came from somewhere. The meat came from cows, each with personalities, each raised in a particular environment of animal husbandry. That cow was then killed and processed into neat little quarter pounders. At each step along the way, people are trying to make a living. In buying six tacos for $5, you're supporting minimum wage paying jobs that don't provide employees with training or transferable skills. You're supporting meatpackers getting injured on the job. And you're supporting honest ranchers losing their land as they are increasingly bullied around by the meatpacking industry.

Food is more than something you shove into your mouth. Food originates from a place. Food originates from a person and is conveyed to you by people. What we eat and how often we eat it has historical and ethical dimensions. Food is what connects us to the earth and to each other.

I'm not advocating vegetarianism (I like meat too much). Nor am I suggesting that everyone has to slaughter rabbits as Thomas Keller did to realize the fundamental inescapable truth of cooking. That the goal of cooking is to transform something that lived into something worthy of that life.

Fast food falls well short of that goal.

Tasting Notes: San Miguel Pale Pilsen

2006-03-30T22:27:00.000-08:00

To dovetail with my review of Kelly's Malaysian dinner, Kelly gave me the rare opportunity to try a southeast Asian beer. She brought back a 330 mL can of San Miguel Pale Pilsen for me to try.

The San Miguel brewery has been around since 1890 and was once considered a world-class brewing operation. Now, however, it seems to have floundered in trying to settle for the bottom line. It's easily the largest brewery in the Phillipines and is said to have a 90+% market share in many southeast Asian countries. It also brews two truly abominable brews under liscense: Miller Genuine Draft and Löwenbräu.

To say that I had high expectations for this particular macro would be a lie. Nevertheless, I thought I'd give it a chance.

Pleasant aromas filled the room the moment I cracked open the seemingly quaint 330 mL narrow-mouth can. Upon further investigation, the first aroma I picked up was decidedly metallic. I associated the aroma with brass. Beneath the metal, there was a generic citrus aroma that stymied all of my efforts to provide a more exact description. As the beer warmed up, a pleasant hint of mushroom started showing up.

As I poured the beer into a glass, a large head was raised. It dissipated almost completely within three minutes of pouring. The color was very pale, lighter than Mountain Dew when held up to a nearby lamp. Plenty of carbonation graced the beer, although it seemed to express itself with unusually large bubbles instead of a melange of smaller ones.

The flavor seemed light for a beer of 5% strength, and lacked a lot of qualities that I expect and enjoy in this style. Make no mistake about it: this beer is brewed in the international pils style, not the Czech-German pils tradition.

There's a light malty pils flavor that seems to run the gamut of the tongue and then stop on a dime. I was impressed by this finesse and control. Many smashmouth brews have macho flavor experiences that could only dream of exacting such a precise blow.

On the other hand, the pils style ought to be well hopped. It should have a crisp flavor brought on by the bitterness of hops and elaborated by perfuming hops. This beer, however, has no detectable hopping. It pretty much only plays its generic malt flavor, except for the occasional hint of mushroom or cranberry as the beer warms. The aftertaste is really where the good flavors are. There's a complex malty aftertaste that makes you want to sip it, which is difficult given the beer's quaffability.

If the ingredients list is to be trusted, this beer might actually have been brewed in the Reinheitsgebot tradition. It lists only malt, cereals, and hops. Upon examing their website, however, I doubt that the beer meets that standard of purity. Practically all brewers that adhere to the Reinheitsgebot boast about it online. That San Miguel makes no mention of the issue is evidence enough for me.

For all of its faults, this beer is extremely well balanced. The taste and the aftertaste are like sitting on a swing on a nice summer day. The direct malty flavor is elaborated upon by the complex malty aftertaste.

I'm not so sure that I'd put money down to buy this beer myself, but it was an intereting and educational experience.

Malaysian dinner

2006-03-19T22:39:00.000-08:00

My friend Kelly invited some friends over recently for a sampling of authentic Malaysian dishes.

Now, mind you that my knowledge of Malaysian cuisine is limited to what I read about it in the September/October 2001 issue of Saveur and an episode of No Reservations. In the magazine article, James Oseland experiences the cuisines of Melaka. If you're as geographically ignorant as I am, Melaka is a state and city toward the western part of Malaysia. So the dishes I experienced are not strictly from the same region, but the high praise he dished for the cuisine ("Malaysia was my France; my palate came alive there") piqued my interest.

Kelly prepared three dishes: pau, tom yam soup, and a tapioca dessert.

Pau are steamed rolls. They were filled with either pork or sweetened bean paste. I was told that they strongly resemble the Chinese bao zhe (Chinese-philes please feel free to correct my spelling). They were delicious, although it's certainly not something that I'm accustomed to eating. I found that this was a creative use of beans, since I'm accustomed to them in French (e.g. salade de lentilles) or in the Mexican/Mexican-American traditions.

The tom yam soup was good, too. She used a Lee Kum Kee brand base, and added green beans, broccoli, red bell peppers, and shiitake mushrooms. The batch was then split. To one half she added prawns and catfish; to the other portion, Kelly added fried tofu. This was all served over cellophane noodles. All a very good combination of fish, vegetables, and exotic seasonings.

Finally, the dessert consisted of tapioca boiled in water until soft to the bite. Some tapioca was placed in the bottom of mugs. One could then add coconut milk and/or palm sugar. Because I have a limited ability to eat tapioca on its own and didn't mix the dessert well, I actually wasn't able to finish it. But I imagine that with more exposure, I could develop a taste for it. And I quickly realized that it would look amazing served in wine glasses.

We drank reconstituted soy milk with the meal (served piping hot!) to keep with the traditional nature of the meal. As a Wisconsinite, I always thought there was something sinister about soy milks. I realize that there's an Asian tradition extending back nearly one thousand years of making milks out of soy beans. It's one of those things that when you apply a label to a product, you expect certain qualities. It's the same thing as when Heston Blumenthal served lobster ice cream. Customers didn't like it because they expected ice cream to be sweet. When he renamed it lobster bisque, his customers enjoyed it for what it was.

I tried to enjoy the soy milk as it was, but I couldn't drink much of it before my body started asking me why I was drinking it. Still, I'm glad that I at least gave it a try.

A German weissbier or a Belgian witbier would both accompany all three courses admirably. Saison would be an excellent partner will all of the complex flavors in the tom yam soup.

Bar Review: Genna's Lounge

2006-03-12T22:27:00.000-08:00

Location: 105 West Main Street, Madison, WI 53703

If you live in Madison, you've probably walked past Genna's and thought it was little more than a cocktail bar filled with the countless suits who work at the Capitol. You know what I mean. And yes, I'm told that they're known for making some fine cocktails but I went in undercover and wanted to see how they were doing with beer. After all, they do advertise for the Tyrenna Brewery (Milwaukee, WI) right in their window.

The building itself is situated on a triangular corner, thus resulting in an unusual right-triangle layout inside. You enter along one of the corners and face the bar. In front of you are a small number of clean tables surrounded by comfortable bar chairs. To your left is a selection of cheeses, crackers, and other food items. I didn't try any of it. The walls are adorned with classic Guiness posters, lending an Irish pub like theme to the place. But it wasn't as convincing as, say, Brocach. This is not the kind of bar you want to stroll into wearing bar clothes. Everyone there was attired at the business casual level. I found it lacking Dotty Dumpling's Dowry's gemütlichkeit, Brocach's craic, and the soigné of Barriques Wine Cave. But what it lacked in warmth, it more than made up for in class.

Behind the bar there are 12 quality beers on tap and over sixty bottles from which to choose. As I looked at the selection of beers on the wall, I was stunned by the bold variety. They had Chimay Rouge, Delerium Tremens, Anchor Porter, Sierra Nevada APA and stout, among other world-class beers. The beer with the last class there was PBR. If I had to criticize the variety at all, it's that they went for a "world's best" approach rather than drawing from the fine selection of local brews. They had Spotted Cow and Wisconsin Amber on the wall, but where was the Lake Louie Scotch Ale? Or the Central Waters Lac du Bay IPA? Or Lakefront Eastside Dark? Although I don't agree with the global focus, I respect Genna's for being bold enough to serve Chimay in 750 mL bottles. To my knowledge, there is no other bar in Madison with the variety that I found at Genna's.

The bar tender knew a bit about beer, which was a gentle surprise. Although Madison is a beer savvy city, a startling number are hooked on disappointing macros. The bar tender seemed to have a good familiarity with the world of beer. When I ordered a Anchor Porter, they were out. So he suggested a Sierra Nevada Stout instead, which he said is much like a porter. I was impressed by this suggestion because I agree that Sierra Nevada's Stout is sufficiently light that I could easily mistake it for a porter.

I drank two beers there. Samuel Smith's Oatmeal Stout and Anchor Steam. I believe they cost $4 and $3 respectively, which are very reasonable prices in my opinion. When the bar tender placed the bottle and glass on the counter, I was disappointed by three things. First, the stout was served ice cold. The temperature at which stouts ought to be served is often said to be 65° F. Second, the glass was unusual to say the least. A pint glass would have kept with the Irish-themed decor and have highlighted some of the qualities of the beer. Instead it was the dreaded American tumbler glass. Third, I was carded. Now, as you can tell from my profile, I'm still only 24. And I understand that bars suffer serious consequences when they serve people who aren't of age. But I feel that carding is somewhat declassé and it shows a lack of respect for the guest.

The Oatmeal Stout was almost certainly skunked, which is an unfortunate consequence of the fact that it's sold in clear glass bottles. I still have no idea why brewers sometimes insist on non-opaque bottles. In my mind, it shows a lack of respect for their product. Still, the rich oatmeal flavors danced on my tongue followed by waves of roasted malt flavor. A wonderful beer. The bar can't be blamed for the bad bottle. One problem that haunts beer bars is that they have sacrifice freshness in obtaining diversity. From what I've heard, Genna's has a good reputation for serving fresh brews.

I had my first brush with Anchor Steam as well. Unfortunately, I drank it after the stout so my pallate wasn't able to give it the attention it deserves. I'll review it under my standardized conditions at a later time, so stay tuned!

In the summer, Genna's has a balcony where you can sit and have a beautiful view of the Capitol. The mere thought of a beautiful summer evening with a pint of Hefeweizen sounded so appealing that I knew that I'd be back.

WBW 19: When in Rhone...

2006-03-07T23:35:00.000-08:00

Insert double-take.

You: I thought this was supposed to be a food and beer blog. What's with the wine?
Me: I could make something up. Like... No matter how much I prefer beer to wine, wine is an essential part of food experience and artisinal food culture. Or... I think you might be interested. But the bottom line is that I know very little about wine. If I'm serious about cooking, I need to change that. Perhaps Wine Blogging Wednesdays will help me develop as an oenophile. Consider it a sub-plot.

Jathan at Winexpression was looking for Rhone blends.

I picked up a bottle of 2002 Clos du Caillou Côtes du Rhône. I was interested in it because I heard that it was good. From reading things, such as the Wine Bible, I knew that the wine would be untamed with spicy, juicy qualities. What I didn't expect was how interesting the wine would be.

The nose was ostensibly disappointing. At first, it seemed to be of oak from top to bottom. As I put my nose further into the glass, however, I picked up raspberry, alcohol, and a rhubarb-like tartness. At 14% alcohol, I was actually surprised that ethanol wasn't more prominent in the aroma. The taste was both complex and delicious. The flavor leads in with a strong hand of oak that filled my mouth. After a few seconds, a burst of pleasant tannins took over and imparted a powerful leathery flavor. Finally, there was a rich bouquet of berries. Bits of raspberry, cranberry, and strawberry all lingered on my tongue for minutes. Echoes of oak and vanilla ended the taste experience. The wine left my mouth feeling slightly dry. True to form, it was just slightly velvety.

The estate was under the leadership of Jean-Denis Vacheron when this wine was produced, who holds an eight hectare estate just north of Avignon. He died an untimely death the year this wine was elaborated, and had his work continued by his wife Sylvie Pouizen and the talented Bruno Gaspard.

In Courthézon, the grapes grow in a squarely mediterranean climate. Despite 2002 being an off year for southern Rhone wines (think raining and flooding), I think it added a Jekyll-and-Hyde character to the wine that makes it more interesting. It's not sunny, but it certainly doesn't have the mulgrims either.

The two principle constituents of the wine seem to be grenache and syrah. I surmise that the fruitiness and warmth come from the grenache while syrah contributes hints of spice. I'm not familiar enough with Rhone varietals to further analyze the blending.

I imagine that this wine would be a good partner with many red meats. A steak cooked rare or medium rare with pepper on it, would be fantastic for example. I don't know how it would turn out, but I think it would be interesting to try this wine with tuna sushi.

Tagged with: WBW19 + WBW

Political commentary: why tagging isn't it

2006-03-03T17:03:00.000-08:00

The Wisconsin State Journal printed an "our opinion" piece today entitled "Tag livestock to stop disease." The editors come out strongly in favor of proposals to require the tagging of livestock. Wisconsin has always been an exemplar of agriculture quality standards. It initiated the nation's first livestock identification system. Such systems require all farms that possess livestock (including hobby farms) to register with the Wisconsin Livestock Identification Consortium. This registry helps the government in the event of outbreaks of diseases. The program has been adopted by many other agriculturally-minded states.

The next step, they say, is to tag individual animals. Such a tagging system would take the identification system to a new level of detail, by tracking livestock from birth to slaughter. If it were then known that the Jones' have a problem with BSE, this would help farmers demonstrate that their animals never were on the Jones' farm.

Yet there are significant problems with these ideas. Namely, the proponants of these measures are trying to cover a deep wound with band-aids. Neither program does anything to solve the fundamental causes of BSE, which is fundamentally linked to the practice of feeding animals the by-products of meat production. A cow infected with BSE will have all of its nerve tissue contaminated. So no part of the animal can be safely used. It cannot be destroyed with heat, radiation, or extended freezing. Yet animal parts are simply recycled back into the system of feeding more animals, thus spreading the disease.

Shutting down this grotesque industry of making low-cost feed from animal "left-overs" would be a good first step.

People who are nervous about the potential of consuming BSE-infected meat are turning to small-scale farms. Such farms are an essential alternative to mass-market meat suppliers in that they raise their animals in a responsible manner, without the use of hormones, antibiotics, and vegetarian feed. The animals are often slaughtered on site by highly skilled personnel, a far cry from the de-skilled meat packers that butcher the meat for supermarkets. The meat is sold at a price that allows the farmers to make a living, invest in their land, and pay their hands fair wages.

Yet the very proposal that the Wisconsin State Journal is touting could very well put at end to such farms. Yes, the initial participation would be voluntary. But the decision to register with the Wisconsin Livestock Identification Registry was once voluntary, too. And now it's become mandatory. Large scale farms can afford to "chip" their animals. Small scale farms, the ones who are standing up to all of this insanity, are inherently ill-equipped to bring their operations into compliance. The practical result is that many, many organic livestock operations would be forced to shut down.

And for what?

So a meat industry can continue selling us meat from carnivorous cows, pumped up with growth hormones and antibiotics, and kept indoors for their entire four year life? Meat that needs to be irradiated because slaughter house conditions are so unsanitary? And is virtually untraceable once it leaves the plant? And even if it is found to be contaminated with anything, be it E. coli H157:O7 or BSE, the government still has no legal ability to monitor the quality control testing or to issue a recall.

The State Journal tried to cast the debate in terms of the civil rights of the farmer versus the government. Whether such concerns are valid is up to lawyers to decide. However, it characteristically misses the point of the entire issue.

Tackle the real issues. Then let's talk.

Tasting Notes: New Glarus Sour Brown Ale

2006-03-03T01:21:00.000-08:00

Beer: Unplugged Sour Brown Ale
Brewery: New Glarus Brewing Company (New Glarus, WI)
Style: sour brown ale

How could I pass up the opportunity to review one of the rarer styles out there? Sour brown ales are a strictly Belgian affair, although several American craft breweries have tried their hand at it as well. Traditionally, the beer is brewed in and around Flanders. The most notable producer of it might be the New Belgium Brewing Company with La Folie.

The beer poured a hazy brown color and raised very little head. What head did develop dissipated quickly. There was no carbonation to speak of, as is appropriate for this style of beer.

The nose is pleasantly complex. A bold sourness hits first, followed by apple and orange peel notes. As I drank the beer, I found it to be only ostensibly sour. Yes, it is sour. It evoked the word "bizarre" in one of my friends. But it's a gentle sourness that may require some acclimation. The sourness quickly gives way to a sweet flavor that lingers on the tongue. It carries with it a convincing apple taste, with undertones of a fruit basket. I picked up hints of grapefruit, strawberry, and pineapple.

I'd really like to try this beer with sweet and sour chicken, Chinese restaurant style. The sour-sweet contrast in the beer would mirror the sweet-sour contrast in the dish. And it would do so without the flavors cancelling each other out. Many chicken and pork dishes would also go great with it, especially ones with sauce bontemps. I also think it would be a refreshing partner to apple pie, where the apples in the dessert would really bring up the apples in the beer.

IMBB 23: Vive la France

2006-02-26T01:39:00.000-08:00

I was on break the other day and one of my coworkers asked what I liked to do for fun. I told her that I enjoy cooking. When prompted what I cook, I told her that I have a real affinity for French food. She responded by saying that she enjoys "cooking gourmet" every once in a while.

Historically "cooking gourmet" meant cooking French. Yet the refined cuisine we imagine when we think of French food and indeed the food we cook in our restaurants isn't a good representation of French fare. Yes, the French are known for being of the world's preeminant cooks. But there's another side to what the French eat that we don't often talk about in the food world, and that's the rustic every day kind of food.

As I sat and tried to figure out dish best epitomizes the opposite of the kind of French food we find in our restaurants, a traditional Alsatian dish came to mind. Baeckoffe is a simple stew of meat and onions in white wine.

In the Lutèce Cookbook, Soltner gives a charming account of the dish's history. Apparently, women traditionally did the laundry on Mondays. Since they were so busy, they threw some meat, potato, and white wine in a pot on Sunday evening and let it marinate overnight. As their children went to school on Monday, they dropped off the pots at the village bakery. By that hour, the day's baking would be finished but the ovens would still be quite hot. The children would then pick up the pots on their way home at lunchtime, and the family would sit down and eat together.

It seems that a parallel story has emerged on the history of the dish. Several websites claim that the dish originated as a Sunday after church lunch. This (probably Americanized) version is almost undoubtedly false. The name of the dish means "baker's oven" via the German "Bäckhof." This fact signifies that the baker's oven must have played some role in the tradition of the dish. However, French bakeries are closed on Sunday.

Regardless of the dish's origins, I made baeckoffe.

On the first day of making it, I put half a pound of beef, lamb, and pork into a pot. Then I minced an onion and sliced some garlic, which found it's way into the pot as well. I then prepared a bouquet garni with two stands of thyme, parsley, and a bay leaf. I immersed the contents of the pot with a dry Alsatian white wine. In the interest of economy, and to stick with a rustic preparation, I chose a wine that was made to be quaffed. That is, I chose an Edelzwicker. This kind of wine is made out of whatever grapes the vintner has at hand, and isn't crafted into any particular "style." Ironically, though, the name means "noble blend." Specifically, I used a 2002 vintage Domaine Bott-Geyl. It was about $10 at my local wine store.

On its own, the wine is actually relatively tasty. In the interests of integrity, I need to fess up and admit that I'm more of a beer drinker than a wine drinker. The nose is full of muted fruit notes. I can almost smell grapefruit in the glass. The taste is slightly dry, with biting acidity and a pleasant but astringent oak aftertaste. The flavors aren't necessarily well balanced and seem vaguely "square" but I kind of appreciate a bit of edginess to the taste. At 12% abv, it seems fairly graceful.

After 36 hours of refrigeration, I sliced some russet potatoes and laid them into the bottom of a dish. The meat, onions, garlic, and marinade all got poured into the dish. I then cut up a half an onion and added it. Slices of potato topped the stew, after seasoning of course. The stew was baked at 300°F for 2.5 hours. I tried to seal the dish with some dough, but the lid seats from the side rather than from the top.

The result?

Delicious.

This is a no-nonsense dish in which any imperfection wouldn't hesitate to announce itself. The meat was not as tender as I would have liked, owing to the tough cuts of meat that were used (again, sticking with the spirit of the dish). When I make this dish again, I'll let the stew go for my "tried and true" four hours instead. From my experience, that produces wonderfuly tender meat.

As a wine, I wanted to set up a contrast. I was worried that the flavors of a dry white wine would cancel out the wine flavors of the stew. As a result, I deliberately picked something that might seem zany to some of you. I chose a pinot gris. As in that which was once called tokay. Tokay, which usually refers to the Hungarian variety, is dessert wine par excellence. My goal was to play off a sweet-savory contrast in picking the wine. Specifically, I chose a 1998 Domaine du Clos St. Landelin Grand Cru Pinot Gris.

By itself, the wine is exceptional. It's breathtakingly sweet, but in a good way. The nose is full of peach and apricot flavor, with strong wood notes. I think I can smell traces of green apple. The alcohol smell of the wine is very subdued, and lets the other scents really come through in a pleasant way. The flavor has none of the astringent or alcohol flavors that I expect in wine. Instead, it has a peach flavor that lingers on the tongue for tens of seconds. Over time, it fades to a wooden taste that isn't entirely rounded. But again, the wood taste is extremely pleasant and sets up a contrast with the rounded sweetness of the earlier fruit flavors. I'm not so sure that I'd drink this wine with dessert, unless said dessert were gelato or sorbet. However, this wine is so fantastically complex that I learned something new about wine with every sip. To drink it with anything would almost undoubtedly sacrifice that very quality of the wine.

Maybe it's because I'm not a sworn oenophile, but I thought the combination was pretty good. The sweetness did contrast with the dryness of the wine in the dish. The flavors were like a couple on a first date. Not completely going together, but clearly sharing some common interests. I was just happy that they didn't fight like a married couple.

In some ways, water seemed to be a better choice than the wine though. Despite the fact that the two wines have different flavor profiles, there was some cancellation of flavors. Water cleansed the pallate and let me taste the dish for the first time many times.

Since this is a food and beer blog, I think that any beer you think would go well with stew would be a good choice here. Any kind of Belgian dubbel or trippel would be nice provided the flavor wasn't tipped too heavily toward banana. A traditional English porter would make an ok partner, but only if the flavors weren't too roasty.

Tagged with: IMBB23 + French

Political Commentary: junk food in school

2006-02-18T08:41:00.000-08:00

A recent spate of news articles have brought attention to the growing scandal (so-called) of schools selling junk food. It's even brought the attention (and sometimes ire) of bloggers. Many say that it's unacceptable for schools to promote and even profit from childhood obesity.

Many of the responses to one of these articles, however, were misguided. The gist of the article is this: Even though schools in Boston have forbidden the sale of unhealthy snacks, students still indulge in junk food because they just bring it from home. The response goes something like this: This shows that the ban on junk food doesn't go far enough; junk food should be forbidden in school no matter where it's purchased.

Not so fast I say.

Now, I'm sensitive to the fact that experts say that today's youth are unhealthy and that there's a growing obesity problem in youth. But this solution isn't the right way to go.

For one thing, I wonder what the people who oppose junk food being sold in schools think of contraception-first or abstinence-first sex education. America's progressives claim that not providing contraception encourages unsafe sex (because students will have sex with or without protection). Which is true. But then they turn around and say that not making junk food available will stop the consumption of junk food among students. Talk about hypocrisy. Students will indulge in junk food whether or not it's available or allowed in schools.

And let's not forget that children are getting, on average, more heavy is a comprehesive problem. It's not just about eating junk food in schools, the caloric intake in itself probably contributes little to childhood obesity. Eating less overall, eating a greater balance of food, and regular exercise need to be prioritized together. This policy fails beause it only tries to tackle only one of these goals.

A better solution might be to teach students how to make their own decisions, so they themselves decide not to over-indulge in junk food. Simply cutting it out of schools like this simply makes a forbidden apple. Schools should work harder to work with parents, who -- I would argue -- have the exclusive right to decide what kinds of foods their children should eat. That right does not lie with schools. To say otherwise is to take a dangerous step backwards toward the mistaken policy of in loco parentis.

This entire issue is yet another example of cultural nannyism where one group of people thinks they know what's best for another group of people. The school nurse at Mildred Avenue School, Sue Burchill, sums it up when she's quoted as saying ''They are not capable of making good choices at this age, so you have to do it for them."

I don't know about you, but I knew that Three Musketeers and Munchos were unhealthy when I was that age. I knew that I shouldn't be guzzling Jolt. What the school nurse is saying is that even though 12 year olds can and have been tried as adults, that they have the cognitive ability to fully consider the ethics of murder, they don't have the cognitive ability to decide what to eat. What policies like this do is quite simple: it prevents children from making mistakes. And I think we learn the more from our mistakes than from our laws.

Restaurant Review: Rock Bottom Brewery

2006-02-05T12:07:00.000-08:00

I made a visit to the Rock Bottom Brewery in Milwaukee last weekend. Yes, I know, it's corporate. But I figured that I'd give it a try.

The building is very stately, being directly next to the river. And the neighborhood seems nice with a boardwalk district. The large neon "Rock Bottom" lights would look great on a gentle summer evening, but the forbidding winter temperatures didn't allow me to fully appreciate the atmosphere.

Inside the heavy wooden doors, we were greeted by a clean interior that was made to look like an old neighborhood brewpub. As our host walked us to our table as if he were crawling, the atmosphere took on a more sports bar theme. Flat screen televisions were strategically hung from the ceiling showing ESPN2. At the time that was a track meet and then golf.

The booths are very long and comfortable. They're raised above the floor level slightly, which adds a nice touch. Unfortunately, it was also very cold in the restaurant and all three of us wore our winter coats for much of the meal.

It took so long for the waitress to show up at our table that we were beginning to wonder if she was on break. When she arrived, she clearly had the "let's be friends" style of serving that I find annoying and inappropriate. The menu is too long and doesn't stick to any sort of theme. I ordered a pint of their Stillwater Stout ($4).

The beer was good, although I could swear that it's a clone brew of Guinness. In other words, it has virtually no roasted flavor and plays a strong hand of malts. There's little to no bittering hops either. The beer only carried a modest head. This beer was fine, but I prefer my stouts flintily dry and crammed full of roasted flavors. On the other hand, this beer has a good sessionability to it.

We had an appetizer of nachos. It came out on a huge oval plate piled at least six inches high with greasy tortillas held together by cheese. The chips themselves were very greasy, and indeed we found a lake of fat on the bottom of the plate. The salsa was timid, as if it didn't want to offend anyone. It didn't have a good balance of flavor, and wasn't even slightly spicy.

I ordered the "meatloaf and mashers." It comes with a nice helping of two slices of meatloaf, a pile of mashed potatoes, and buttery green beans. The meatloaf can be sauced with either stout tomato sauce or brown ale mushroom sauce, and I picked the former because the ketchup-meatloaf combination is traditional. The meatloaf is juicy (they let it rest) and filled with pieces of sautéd mushrooms, which imparted a nice flavor to an otherwise bland dish. The sauce, however, was truly one of the worst sauces I've ever tasted. And believe me, I have an open mind when it comes to experiencing new things. It just tasted bad. The flavor consists of a full-scale battle between the stout reduction component and the tomato component. The stout reduction tasted stale, as if a pan had been sitting on the stove for the last three days. And the tomatoes tasted like they were rotting in the back of their fridge. As I said, the flavors didn't parter either by similarity or contrast in the slightest. To make things worse, the menu boasted that the meatloaf is "made from scratch." If a restaurant has toclaim that they make their own food, you know there are serious problems.

The mash was good, although bland. The menu boasted that the potatoes had white cheddar in them, but I assume they meant the processed cheese variety.

The menu also said the dish would be served with "seasonal vegetables." Since it's January, I was expecting celeriac, squash, or maybe sweet potato. What vegetable did they consider seasonal? Green beans. At least they were well prepared. The vegetables felt firm and were crisp, unlike most green beans that are available at this time of year. Moreover, they had been blanched and shocked in the French manner. Unfortunately, unlike the French they didn't reheat their green beans after shocking them and instead served them cold. Serving them this way should be reserved for hot and humid summer days when you want something light and cool, not in the middle of the winter where it's even cold inside. The green beans were sauced with melted butter. I would have prefered sauce beurre blanc myself. Still, the green beans were the best part of the meal.

I should note that the plating was done in a very uncreative way. I would have placed the meatloaf on top of the mash, and then arranged the green beans around it in a decorative manner. Instead they do a basic 12, 3, and 7 o'clock plating scheme.

With my dinner, I ordered my first tripel. The nose was full of banana and bubble gum. The flavor had a nice balance of banana, bubble gum, and malts. It had a pleasant bitterness to it that I appreciated. Even better, they served it in an appropriate glass. It raised a nice white head that just wouldn't quit. It went great with the green beans. But at over 9% (typical for the style), it was a gracefully big beer.

I'd go there again for beer, but I'm not sure if I'd go there again for food.

Tasting Notes: Beerline

2006-01-30T07:35:00.000-08:00

Beer: Beerline
Brewery: Lakefront Brewery (Milwaukee, WI)
Styles: American barleywine

This beer was brewed to commemorate the tenth anniversary of Milwaukee's Lakefront Brewery. The name honors the Milwaukee street along which there used to be many breweries. It was last produced in 1997, but there are still plenty of bottles floating around out there. Since it's 2006, the brew was nicely aged prior to drinking -- and, indeed, the bottle recommends aging at least one year prior to consumption. The beer is also certified organic.

The aroma was malty with a wagonload of oranges and just a hint of clove. I appreciated the opaque amber color. It looks red when held up to the light. This beer has virtually no head and no carbonation. Being a novice at decanting beer, I accidentally poured the sediment into the glass.

Your first hint that this is a sipping beer is the fact that it comes in a cute 7 ounce bottle -- just enough to fill my wine glass nicely. The taste was pretty typical for an American barleywine. It came on strong with a nearly overpowering bite of American hops which made me shudder slightly with each sip. The flavor then subsides into a more calm hop-orange flavor that extends for minutes. It plays only a few taste notes, but those flavors that it includes it plays well.

I would drink this beer with any number of strong cheeses that wouldn't be intimidated by the the hop blitzkrieg. A good aged cheddar or manchego come to mind, although the possibilities are likely endless.

Welcome one and all.

2006-01-26T23:12:00.000-08:00

Welcome to Pint and Fork. I'm hoping that this will be a regular column about my experiences with beer and food. I can't tell you where this story will lead, but I invite you along for the ride.