Collard Greens

Pre-Activity Research:
Collard Greens are the oldest members belonging to the cabbage family and are also linked to kale. They are readily available year-round, but their prime months are between January and April.

They have been dated to prehistoric times; grown by ancient Greeks ( indistinctly with their kale crops ), the Romans produced a variety ( large and leafy, mildly flavored, and even ones with curled leaves ). It is unclear whether the Romans or the Celts introduced the plant to Britain and France, but they are known to have appeared in the British Isles during the 4th century.

The traditional southern style of cooking the greens hailed from the African slaves inhabiting the southern colonies. Their primary purpose was to satisfy hunger. Although they are not African by any means, the means in which they are cooked are; cooked into a gravy to create vitamin-concentrate juices called "pot likker" for drinking. As the slaves were given the leftovers from their respective plantation kitchens, it was commonplace to use turnips, ham hocks and pigs' feet, as that was all they had to use for flavor. They are usually served with freshly baked corn to dip in the pot likker juice.

The term 'mess o greens' originated based on the large quantity of greens required to serve a family. "Mess" is a term relative to the family size, of course.

As folklore has it, collards coupled with black eyed peas and hog jowl on New Year's Day will bring good luck and financial fortune. Additionally, hanging a leaf above a doorway will keep evil spirits at bay and a fresh leaf pressed to a fore head will relieve a headache.

When it came time to venture to the Husky Den, I was unsure as to how successful or ...unsuccessful our kitchen endeavors would shape up. Although I actually participated in very little of the actual cooking (as I was a member of Team Pesto), the energy in the kitchen was fabulous in the organized chaos of mass collaboration.

In the midst of this activity I found myself struggling to peel individual cloves of garlic for the Pesto recipe, which slightly piqued my interest in the area of efficient-garlic-clove-peeling-technique. This arousal led me directly to www.ochef.com's archived article:
"Facing up to the Onerous Task of Peeling Garlic"
" If the garlic clove will be chopped, place it on a cutting board under the flat side of a broad knife and give the knife a sharp whack with your free hand. You will be able to remove the peel easily, probably in one piece. If the cloves are going to be used whole, drop them in boiling water for a minute or two and they will peel easily.Another option that came by way of a reader, is to drop unpeeled garlic cloves into a glass of cold water and let them sit for 1/2 hour or more. Our reader starts cooking by dropping a half to a whole head of garlic (separated into cloves) into the water. By the time she needs them, they "pop out of their skins almost as easily as blanched almonds." Slicing the top off the cloves works even quicker. She refrigerates unused garlic in the water for use the next day."

I love how readily available the internet makes every piece of information.

I was so pleased with how our Pesto turned out, with surprisingly few ingredients. Salt, garlic, basil leaves, olive oil, pine nuts, parmesan - it's hard to imagine pesto without any of these - even more so without the food processing appliance which is a far cry away from the mortar and pestle this sauce was originally prepared with.
I also had such an appreciation for the huge bag of basil which came directly from the University of Washington campus -- further stressing the importance of increasing the value of local consumerism, which is also heavily promoted in Ruth Ozeki's "All Over Creation." To know that this food had no pesticides and left absolutely carbon foot-print produced an entirely guilt-free sauce which I was proud of.
Thank you, Italy, for sharing your divine recipes!

Group Dynamic Response Exercise

After today's project reading discussion (my group's discussion regarded "Borderless Cuisine" The Diet of Neoliberalism." of The Red Critique) my head felt a little heavier with all these new thoughts which I would like to arrange; what better place than on my very own blog?

I think the video about the International Seed Bank that prefaced this daily activity was noteworthy. The video definitely strengthened my motivation to cultivate available land to produce sustenance free of carbon footprints. I was also finding myself drawing an immediate mental parallel between Guerilla farming and the activist Seeds of Resistance from Ruth Ozeki's book "All over Creation." I like the rebellious spirit generated by modern-day activism; especially since it benefits all of us in one way or another.

This spirit seems to be escalating as new research is only affirming claims stating the sad fact of self-destruction the human race is facing. Although it is "sad, but true" the unification accompanied by working together and solving the problem collectively is refreshing. In a world of road rage and short-fused patience, I am amazed that there is a palpable effort. Although the video featuring a GMO Trilogy clip was slightly disheartening with the fact that something like 95% of scientists are working primarily with the ulterior corporate motive rather than to explore the genetic boundaries of crop diversity based on the need for self-preservation. However, "progress is progress." Right? The selfishness of humanity is a double edged sword; fueling both the desire of occupation and self-preservation simultaneously.

I also found it interesting to attempt to define a nation. As there was no concrete basis, at first I was a little overwhelmed with the challenge. However, the more I thought about it, the more ridiculous the concept felt. What is a nation other than an excuse to divide people from other people. To separate, discriminate, and compete against. And for what?

Locally Grown Food Bank

Our field trip to the University's Medicinal Gardens reminded me of the volunteer project I was conducting this summer; planting and cultivating vegetables for the local Food Bank. This experience was particularly powerful because when I interviewed for an Americorps job for the summertime, I did not realize I would have the opportunity to work so intimately with such a forward-thinking project.

My mission was to raise garden variety plants/vegetables. Although I had not previously been one for gardening ( I will admit to occasionally watering house plants ) and was slightly apprehensive about my ability to raise enough cucumbers, tomatoes, carrots, and beets to equally satisfy hungry families in my community. However, the profound appreciation for such skills (such as patience and the ability to nurture seemingly inanimate and stubborn plants) was well worth the journey.

In the beginning I had a constant struggle against nature's fickle tendencies; leaning tomato vines, weak and withering carrot stems, and even a visit from a family of rabbits. As the plants were in a green house, battling the weather was not consequential. Despite my initial frustration with disagreeable vegetables ( Why can't they just sprout and blossom and produce veggies?! Why do I have to care about the angles of stems and when to transplant from pot to earth?), I began to reap the (pardon the pun) fruits of my labors after the first three weeks. This was when I curiously peered underneath the leaf of a comely cucumber plant only to find a bushel of perfectly ripened cucumbers ready to be harvested. The tomatoes were also finding their spherical form in a promising shade of green. When I began harvesting the crops I raised, I felt not only a sense of accomplishment, but pride. I was proud that I had been able to grow these fickle things that would temporarily be able to absolve hunger in a healthful fashion. I took great care in placing each vegetable just so in the boxes and I drove slower so they would surely not get squished. The exchange between myself and the Food Bank volunteers was brief, but their expressions spoke loudly; they appreciated everything they could receive, no matter how small. Hunger is constant and food is not cheap.

The experience of raising these vegetables equipped me with the motivation to cultivate my own vegetables in unused space in my yard. It felt wasteful to live on this land and not use every last inch of it to produce something, anything.

I was so excited to hear about the plans for guerilla gardening along the Burke-Gilman trails as well. To actually be able to help with this would be amazing and I definitely plan to look into it. It was also nice to find out why I had seen new shrubs of blueberry bushes along the path while I was running along the trail in the morning!

Pesakh Seder

Two days prior Mom rids the house of chametz; all fermented grain must be thrown out. The countertop is lined with paper bags of bread, cereal, pasta, cookies. It seems wasteful, but we donate the bags of food to food banks for the hungry each year. Although our tradition is pale in comparison to orthodox practices (hiding and burning chametz, self-prepared matzo), it is the thought that reminds us why we must do this; it is important to ceremonial mark the Exodus of and freedom of enslaved Jews from ancient Egypt. We have to channel their very struggles to flee so as not to forget our fortune and ability to celebrate the birth of the Children of Israel.

By the time the house is cleansed of fermented grains, it is the day of our informal Seder. About 5 years ago we started a family tradition of conducting a private at-home Seder, instead of commuting off-island to our temple (the closest one to Whidbey Island is in Everett). We fast. No one eats from sunrise to sunset. As the sun slips down behind our neighbor's hilly pasture, we are ready:

Our informal Haggadeh (recitation which recounts the story of the Exodus) is printed from the internet and placed casually on the table to be read aloud during our ceremony. Our Seder plate is arranged:
Maror, which is a bitter herb to serve as a reminder of the harshness of slavery
Charoset, my mom's proud recipe boasting a cinnamon apple, red wine, grated nuts and matzo and spritzed with a red wine. This mixture is to symbolize the mortar by which our ancestors built the pyramids of Egypt, and it is additionally incorporated to off-set the bitterness of Maror.
Karpas, usually we use celery dipped in salt. The salt is meant to reflect salty tears representing the pain of Jewish slaves who had a limited diet of simple foods.
Z'roa, this is where I am morally conflicted; Z'roa is traditionally a lamb shankbone. My family substitutes with chicken wings. Most vegetarians use beet root, though, despite the seemingly literal referral it bears to the traditional sacrifice.
And finally, Beitzah, a roasted egg, a symbol of mourning for the destruction of the temple.

This is one example of a traditional Seder plate.

Though our ceremony is usually an abbreviated understatement of the true practice, it really does unify our family. The film Tampopo made me feel guilty for not celebrating food as the Japanese, and also reminded me of the way one of my family's celebrations centers around food symbolism. The dedication of Japanese mothers to feeding their children - such as the scene where a mother is on her deathbed, only to awaken to cook the family its final dinner - and literally slave away in their kitchens to support their families the way they were trained to, only increased my respect of their traditions and connect to my own. I thought of the agonizing deprivation of food which only makes our ceremony more powerful, more appreciative and thankful of all the luxuries we command.

Obento Exchange; Self-reflection and Appreciation

After contemplatively preparing a bento box in class, I am starting to feel like I abuse food. I eat when I feel low on energy, when I feel hungry. And when I eat, I like to eat as efficiently as possible; as fast as possible, as cleanly as possible. Convenience is key, as is health.
However, today's meticulous exercise in preparing bento boxes with thought and consideration made me feel guilt for how I take advantage of what enables my bodily functionality. I gained a great appreciation for the care these Japanese women take to ensure the success of their children. A true and selfless labor to only be consumed within moments. Like many of the modernly empowered women of the western world, I first thought this practice to be synonymous with slave-labor. Yet, after I actually practiced this tradition, I am ashamed of that fleeting ignorance. It's a beautiful thing for a mother to care so much for a child that her prepared meals are a reflection of love. If only such a literal representation of love was commonplace in the western world.



This was the obento box I prepared for my sister. It is mainly composed of sticky white rice which lined the bottom of the box as well as the salmon, edamame and pickled beet. I chose to adorn the rice ball with a happy expression and pair it with a side of pickled plum dressed with horse-radish and blanketed with a sea-weed wrapped egg which I laid upon a nest of sesame and seaweed. The other side is a medley of sliced cucumber, pickled beet and egg.

This is the obento I prepared alongside the one I presented with to consume.

I must say the experience let me fully appreciate the box with which I was given. It felt like a present for a special occasion, such delicate (amateur, but careful) placement and situating and simple flavour combinations created for soulful nurishment.

Tampopo Revisited

The thematic resonance of food through out Juzo Hami's 1985 Japanese comedy, Tampopo (Dandelion), was captivating not only by the comedic animation but the substantial functions food serves or represents in Japanese society. The interpersonal connection between the Japanese and their value of food is readily palpable - especially as food was even incorporated during the throes of passion between lovers. While Goro and Tampopo's sincere and emotional investment in preparing a sensational soup reciple celebrated the joys of food, I was moved more by the subtleties proffered by Juzo Hami.

A particularly touching moment of this film was the scene in a grocery store where an elderly woman is shown ruinously squishing a shopkeeper's peaches and cheese. While comic relief is portrayed as the shopkeeper fails to catch the mischievous woman, I felt the content spoke louder than the assured audience-issued laughter. As peaches trace their roots back to China and Cheese is widely celebrated in France, I was forced to consider the bane guaranteed by outsourcing during the economic depression. This scene also made me realize our sad dependence in modern times upon the accessibility of imported food really should be re-evaluated as a celebrated luxury. Think of how much international cuisine is available in mall food courts in America. Doesn't familiarity with foreign cuisine make traveling less of an exotic emergence?

While the film specifically centers around Goro and Tampopo's collaboration to create a perfect fast-food ramen restaurant, the subplots are what really struck me. I found it amusing to watch the short-comings of mastication etiquette instruction offered to younger Japanese ladies preparing to travel abroad. The cultural norm of slurping is so deeply ingrained that even the instructor cannot abandon Japanese propriety.

Lately, I feel like I have seen nothing but evidence of the benefits of shopping locally; perhaps surpassing even those of USDA organic. Or perhaps is it just the instinctual human necessity of self-preservation surfacing?

Just Peachy

Today in the Anthropology of Food we welcomed a guest speaker, Molly Wizenberg of the Orangette food blog who introduced the class to blogspot. Although I am a little hesitant to impart my opinions so openly upon the vast internet, I look forward to the time when I can literally review the progression in my own thought and ideas as they come to fruition based on personal investigation.

I am currently a strict vegetarian because, like many others, I am morally opposed to animal cruelty. For me, this opposition has led to searching tirelessly for alternatives to meat in the frozen food section of supermarkets, silently protesting family dinners of spaghetti and meatballs, or even daring to brave the rubbery synthetic consistency of Tofurkey on Thanksgiving. This has been a six year journey for me, which I hope to prolong as much as I can.

Vegetarianism aside, I also identify with reformed Judaism of which 'kosher' is seldom associated. However, I am extremely perplexed by food and theology; the intimate guidelines by which people follow to "properly" fuel their bodies. Why is it against kashrut (ie: kosher or "proper") to cook or mix milk and meat? What makes a pickle kosher? Apparently, dill koshers are rabbi-certified, ensuring the pickle has not been transported or packaged in anything that once held meat.

That hardly seems of significance in this world with fast food nightmares and convenient year-round supply of typically seasonal fruits and vegetables. It's always strange to find peaches in the dead of winter at the supermarket. While the Pacific Northwest is non-conducive to peaches due to insufficient summer heat, it's not very surprising to find the fruit brandished with a yellow 'California' sticker; a partially disturbing reminder of the environmentally taxing impact this unassuming fruit has made on the world. However, if we limited all food exports to save the environment from carbon dioxide emissions, the peach would not have traveled farther than China. However, I cannot attest to the carbon foot print left by the Persians who introduced peaches to Romans or the 16th century Spanish explorers who transported it to America where it found itself en route to England and France a century later where it transformed into a delicacy.




"In Queen Victoria's day, no meal was complete without a fresh peach presented in a fancy cotton napkin. "-Peach History, Peggy Trowbridge Filippone

A short two centuries later, commercial production began in coastal eastern United States. Although the Southern states lead in commercial production of peaches, they are also grown in California, Michigan, and Colorado, placing the US as the second-largest commercial production of the fruit.