Devils and Angels

Last week I learned that Walmart is not only the devil sitting on one of America's shoulders, but also the angel sitting on the other. I attended a lecture at the Johns Hopkins School of Advanced International Studies (SAIS) entitled “The Role of the Private Sector in Sustainable Agriculture.” The guest lecturer was a SAIS graduate: Beth Kreck, Senior Director of Sustainability for Walmart.

For eight years I was a union organizer and Walmart epitomized the evil employer. It paid it's employees poorly. It charged them ridiculous amounts for health insurance. The average sales associate at Walmart, for example, earns $8.81 an hour.  Even if she works full time - which is thirty-four hours per week at Walmart - she'll bring home $15,576 a year.  To put this in perspective, the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services calculates the 2011 poverty threshold for a family of two to be $14,710 and $22,350 for a family of four.  

To be clear, the issue is not whether or not Walmart can afford to support it's workers. Walmart reported $3.8 billion net income just in the second quarter of this year and their CEO, Michael Duke, is looking at $18.7 million total compensation in 2011.  In 2010, Duke made more money in one hour than the average Walmart employee made all year.

Additionally, communities targeted for Walmart construction have often protested because the entry of a Walmart meant the exit of many small, local business owners who just couldn't compete.  And throughout this past year, Walmart has made headlines as it defended itself in the Supreme Court against allegations of gender discrimination.

These were the facts that I focused on when once upon a time I admonished my mother for shopping at Walmart. In our family Walmart was like Voldemort, an unseen antagonist whose evil presence was felt but whose name was never uttered. If Mom told me about a great deal and I asked where it came from, she'd respond cryptically: "Oh, you know where it came from..." 
 
I did not know that in 2005 Walmart made a conscious commitment to move in a sustainable direction. From it's website: 

At Walmart, we know that being an efficient and profitable business and being a good steward of the environment are goals that can work together. Our broad environmental goals at Walmart are simple and straightforward: to be supplied 100 percent by renewable energy; to create zero waste; to sell products that sustain people and the environment.

In her presentation at SAIS, Kreck gave examples of how such a business model proves good not only for the environment, the producers, and the customers, but also for the company.  She pointed to apple production in the American Pacific Northwest.  On average, 7% of apples are left on the ground to rot because they do not meet the aesthetic standards of most markets.  But with new technology, farmers are able to use cost-effective means to harvest all of the apples and separate the less attractive ones for use in products such as applesauce and juice where their appearance is unimportant.  Less waste means more profit for the farmer.  It also means a lower price for Walmart which then translates into a lower price for the customer.

Other examples include Walmarts effort to install solar panels on 75% of it's stores in California, a move that they estimate will provide 20-30% of their facilities' power needs in California plus annually prevent the production of 21,700 metric tons of carbon dioxide emissions.  In the same state, Walmart reports that it has eliminated more than 80% of the waste that would otherwise go to landfills.  They have accomplished this through a combination of recycling, donating to food banks, and transforming expired food and organic waste into compost and animal feed.

Globally, Walmart has made various impressive commitments.  By 2012, both Walmart and Sam's Club must source all of it's fresh and frozen fish and seafood from third-party verified sustainable sources.  By 2015, no product will be sold that includes unsustainable palm oil as an ingredient.  In the next 5 years, it will invest $1 billion in sustainable small and medium size farms, in fresh food chains that pair local stores with local products.

Do these new angelic halos cancel my historic criticisms of Walmart's devilish side? No. Do they excite me? Yes! And more than a fleeting excitement, they buoy a deeper hope that the private sector can contribute in meaningful ways to fashioning a more sustainable world.  I'm curious to hear how other retailers respond to these initiatives and to see what kind of impact these shifts have on the consciousness of the average Walmart shopper.

The Fishmongering Apprentice

I'm working as the Seafood Specialist for a local supermarket.  When people ask me what I do, I like to tell them I'm a fishmonger.  This response usually triggers a quizzical expression and an interesting conversation about my current life cutting, preparing, and selling fish.

This job has sparked many thoughts about grocery store practices and contemporary consumer culture.

The average shopper I meet, for example, wants fresh, diverse, cheap seafood options.  When is fish "cheap"?  Fish can be cheap if it is local, abundant, and doesn't involve a bunch of middlemen.  A buddy of mine came back from Maine, for example, and reported lobsters at $4.50/lb.  But most grocery-store goers are not looking for just what is local and abundant.  So what about the rest of our options?

A fish farm in Shanghai (credit: Ivan Walsh, courtesy Flickr).

Wild fish is usually cheap when it was caught using environmentally destructive methods such as bottom trawling or massive driftnets.  Farm-raised fish is cheaper when short-cuts are taken such as feeding the fish suspicious material and then pumping them full of antibiotics to make sure they don't get too sick.  It's also cheaper when it comes from places where land, labor, and capital are cheaper.  According to the U.S. Government Accountability Office (GAO) we import 80% of our seafood.  Unfortunately, the GAO also reports that only 2% of that seafood is inspected.

But even "cheap" isn't necessarily cheap.  How much fossil fuel did it take to catch it, chill, it, and ship it here?  How much of the seascape was destroyed because of the harvesting method?  How much of the fish was harvested?  Too much?  There's a long list of external costs that unfortunately don't factor into the sticker price you see at the store.

I don't blame the customers.  If I think back on my own life and ask when anyone ever taught me to think about where my fish comes from, I'm dismayed by the answer.  It wasn't really until I lived in San Francisco - a bit of an sustainability anomaly, unfortunately, as American cities go - that I heard such questions asked.  And even then I was just starting off life as a working young adult.  If dollars were votes, I cast mine for the cheapest food alternatives and saved the rest for rent, student loans, and going out.

If the choice was tough for me, how much tougher is it for the penny-counting shoppers who have to choose between rent, medicine, and bread?  And then there are the many who don't even know there's a choice that needs to be made.

A discussion of solutions is as important as this one on challenges, deserving of it's own post, I think.  But for now I will say this:  The number of people in this world who can vote with their money and purchasing power is limited.  There are over seven billion men, women, and children in the world and at least a billion of them live on less than a dollar a day.  I believe, therefore, that educating our children is the best hope we have.  We need them to grow into consumers who make informed decisions, activists who demand a better future, business people who factor sustainability into their balance sheets, and politicians with open ears, wise minds, and determined hearts!

If you're curious to know more about where your fish comes from and which fish are best to buy, a good place to start is the Baltimore Aquarium's Seafood Watch.  Enjoy!

Back on the Farm

"Hurry up, we gotta go!"

These are the words Alec greeted me with as I arrived on the farm today.  Evidently the ten cows who had been grazing on the hillside behind the farm had decided to go for a scavenger hunt on their neighbors' properties.  They were searching for lush grass, cool water, and trouble...and unfortunately, had found all three.

It's been weeks since I was on the farm last.  The grass has grown.  The herds have grown.  Everything's greener and bigger than it was before.  There's chard and arugula in the garden and little girls running around in sun dresses and flip-flops.  Piglets.  Puppies.  Baby turkeys.  Spring is a wonderful time on the farm.

It's wonderful.  And it's busy.  Spring's bounty brings a ton of new work to the farm, and this is where I come in.  Since I haven't found the right job yet in Northern Virginia, I'm back in Southwest Virginia to help with all the chores.  There are animals to feed, fences to mend, gardens to weed, hoop houses to build, and countless adventures to have along the way.

I'm sure I'll get chased by cows and stung by bees and hugged by little girls and fed by good friends.  And I'll do my best to capture it here.  I hope you enjoy!

Homemade Chicken Stock

When I cook chicken, I usually buy the bird whole and break it down into the parts I need.  One night I'm pan searing airline chicken breasts and later that week I'm braising coq au vin.  Or maybe I'll de-bone the whole thing, season it real well, and grill it.  Or perhaps roast it with lemon, white wine, and aromatic herbs and vegetables.  Whatever the treatment, there are sure to be unused bones and backs, wingtips and giblets.  These go into the freezer and hang out until I’ve reached critical mass.  Then it's time to make stock!

In case you've never tasted homemade stock or used it in your cooking, let me just say that there is no comparison.  I've tried half a dozen store-bought varieties and nothing comes close.  I would argue that butter, aggressive seasoning, and house-made stocks are the top three reasons you go "WOW!" when you eat in a good restaurant.  If you can combine that with love - the secret ingredient of all great home cooks - your family and guests will most likely fall out of their chairs…unable to handle so much goodness.

Some notes before we begin

A stock pot should be big.  It takes time to make stock, so you want to make it worth your while.  And it should be taller than it is wide (this allows for slower evaporation of liquid).  I use measurements such as ¾ & ¼ of a pot below so that you can make stock in whatever size pot you own, but you don’t actually want to fill up the pot entirely.  Leave a little room for the veg to dance about as they simmer.

The recipe below is for brown chicken stock which I tend to use more frequently because it is a deeper, richer stock.  You can make a white chicken stock - which is lighter in color and more subtle in flavor - simply by following the recipe below without browning the bones or the veg.  

If you're dealing with whole chickens, I recommend using a big-old cleaver the break them down before you start.  And you may want to trim excess fat and skin so that the stock doesn't taste overly fatty.

I suggest only using parsley stems because the leaves will give off a bitter flavor if they are cooked too long.  Don’t let the leaves go to waste, though.  Try an Italian salsa verde or a French parsley persillade.

When I make stock, I like to put ¼ in the freezer, ¼ in the fridge, and reduce the rest into a demi-glace which you can use to make a ridiculously good sauce later in the week. Instead of freezing the stock in large containers, divide it into smaller ones so that you can take down a little each time you need it.

Finally, if you'd like to know more about cooking with bones, I highly recommend Jennifer McLagan's Bones: Recipes, History, and Lore (and if you’re feeling adventurous, check out her equally edifying Fat: An Appreciation of a Misunderstood Ingredient).

Supplies

• 3/4 a stock pot of chicken scraps and1/4 a stock pot of rough chopped mire poix (carrots, celery, and onions in a ratio of 1:1:2)
• A couple of bay leaves, whole peppercorns, parsley stems, and some sprigs of thyme
• White wine
• Water
• Ice (for an ice bath)
•  A stock pot
• A shallow, wide metal spoon
• Large, metal bowl (or glass would work too)
• A chinoise, china cap, or other large strainer (coffee filters or cheese cloth if you want a really clear stock)
• Metal sheet trays and an oven pre-heated to 450
• Stock storing container(s)

Method 

1) Lay the chicken scraps on the sheet tray and place the tray in the oven.  You want to leave a little space between the scraps so that the hot air can circulate and crisp up as much of the exposed meat, bone, and skin as possible (you may need two trays).  This builds flavor.

2) When the exterior is dark brown and crisp, remove the tray from the oven.  Place the chicken scraps in the stock pot and pour the liquefied fat and drippings into the metal bowl.

3) Place the sheet tray over two burners on the stove top.  Turn the burners on to medium- high.  When the pan starts to sizzle, deglaze with white wine, using a metal spatula to scrape up all of the brown bits from the tray.  Again, you’re building flavor.  Pour the wine and mushy brown bits into the stock pot.

4) Toss the mire poix in the bowl with the liquefied fat (if you'd prefer, you can just toss the veg in your favorite oil).  Spread the veg onto the sheet tray and place it back in the oven until the edges of the veg are dark brown.  Then throw them into the pot too.

5) Add the parsley stems, thyme sprigs, bay leaves, and peppercorns to the pot.  Then fill with cold water, just ½ inch shy of the top of the pot.

6) Bring the pot to a boil and then lower to a simmer.  You will most likely notice dark foam collecting on the top the water.  Use the metal spoon to skim it off, trying to leave as much of the water and solids in the pot as possible.

7) Simmer the stock for at least 3 hours.  

8) Pour the contents through the chinoise into whatever container you plan on storing it in. This will remove the bulk of the solids, but if you want an even cleaner finished product, strain the stock a second time using a coffee filter or cheese cloth. 

9) Before you put these in your fridge and freezer, you want to bring the temperature down.  If you’ve made a lot of stock, this may take some time, resulting in a larger window of lukewarm exposure.  Since this is unsafe, you can use an ice bath to bring the temperature down more quickly.

10) When you remove the stock from the fridge or freezer, you’ll notice a yellowish layer of congealed fat on the top.  Discard that and use the delicious stock below it. 

Fight for Your Right to Garden!

Ok, so we didn't actually have to fight for our right to garden.  But if you watch the video at the end of this post, you'll understand the title.

What we did do is decide that despite the limitations of our suburban apartment's balcony, we'd garden nonetheless.  With help from our good friend over at Arcadia, Farmer Mo, we decided on a combination of deep pots for vertical veggies like tomatoes, some more shallow boxes for shorter plants such as herbs and radishes.

Dina and I celebrated Easter by heading over to Cravens Nursery and Pottery last Sunday to choose seedlings for our garden.  We were wowed by exotic bushes from Japan and lovely little lemon trees, but made our way eventually to the vegetable section.   As we strolled through the herbs and tomatoes, the excitement of growing our own food took hold.  I think, if we could, we would have walked away with one of everything.  But given our budget and our space limitations, we had to make tough choices - green zebras, cherry peppers, and chocolate mint, for example, all made the final cut.

We then headed over to Home Depot for deep pots, long planters, railing box holders, and organic soil.  Before long we were home and elbow deep in warm, dark soil.

Except for today's torrential rains which shook some of the more fragile herbs up a bit, the garden's great.  We even have radish sprouts breaking through the soil!

I'll keep you posted on our progress.  And in the interim, here's a first garden video...

Earth Day with Compost Cab

In honor of Earth Day, Compost Cab and The Farm at Walker Jones Elementary School teamed up to provide an opportunity for volunteers to get their hands dirty.    I heard about the opportunity through the D.C. Farm to School Network and thought it would be a fun way to enjoy the day while exploring my new-found interest in urban agriculture.  I was joined by a dozen or so folks who pitched in despite the inclement weather.


The farm and the school are located about ten blocks North of the U.S. Capitol, close to where New York and New Jersey Avenues intersect.  When I received the invitation to volunteer, the address was most of what I knew about the project.  A quick trip to their blog and I was immediately impressed by their vision.

Imagine dining at a restaurant and loving the fresh figs served with your prosciutto.  You inquire about their origin and your server says, "Oh, the kids over at Walker Jones grew them."  Or maybe you live in the neighborhood and visit weekly what will be the school's "farmers market" where sixth graders learn math skills while selling you Swiss chard.  Biology lessons will come alive.  Cafeteria waste will become compost.  And child-cultivated veggies will wonder across the street into school lunches.  From what I understand, the project is still young and their vision will take a few years to unfold.  It's exciting, though, and I can't wait to watch it grow!

On Friday our job was to help convert old, plant-waste-only composting bins into a new system that would integrate local food waste picked up and delivered by Compost Cab.  Some of the volunteers knew each other - a sizable contingent had come (bearing doughnuts, I might add - yum!) from a local law firm - but most did not.  Our common bond was compost, so that's what we chatted about:  Do you compost meat?  What about bones?  Cooked veg?  Have you tried worms?  My worms died.  So did mine.

Worms, I have come to realize, are compost's best friend.  And so they come up at every event I attend.  You can't talk about urban agriculture without talking about compost.  And you can't talk about compost without talking about worms.  The resulting vermicompost (or worm compost) is great for gardens and the best way to speed up the time it takes for food scraps to morph into fertilizer.  If you're curious, here's some helpful information.

The city is full of folks who could compost.  But without back yards, where's it going to happen?  Think about all the dorm rooms of all the colleges, all the apartment complexes, all the office kitchenettes.  Then think about all the coffee grounds at all the coffee shops and all the food scraps produced by restaurants, markets, and hotels.  Now think about all the produce tossed by grocery stores because it didn't sell before it went bad.  That's a ton of compost!

Enter Compost Cab.  As Jeremy Brosowsky pointed out on Friday, recycling programs didn't spread widely because the masses demanded it (although grass-roots organizing, I would add, did help sound the alarm); their spread was catalyzed by their profitability.  Entrepreneurs figured out that there was money to be made in recycling and this resulted in the wide-spread infrastructure needed to make recycling available across America.  The entrepreneurs benefited and so did the planet. 

He added that this same trend is possible with compost.  If we wait for the government to decree it (now I'm editorializing), we may be waiting a very long time.  But perhaps right now, some forward-thinking entrepreneurs can help galvanize this effort.  Compost Cab is a good example.  From what I understand, it has quickly found a receptive green niche here in D.C.

As I mentioned in my last post, Dina and I are experimenting with our own compost.  We own an anaerobic indoor composter that uses a substance called bokashi to speed up the break down while absorbing the resulting odor.  There's a spout on the bottom for retrieving compost "tea" which you mix with water and give to your plants.  I have to confess, we should have done a little more research before going this route.  Yes, the tea is great and the bucket is odorless.  But in order to convert the half-broken-down food waste into usable compost, you have to bury the contents under soil and wait two or so weeks for it's final conversion.

Soil...hmm...that's the stuff we had to buy for our balcony garden because we have no yard and therefore no soil.  So what are we supposed to do with a bucket of half-digested waste every week?  I called the County of Fairfax's Composting Department (well, that's what Google Places called it), but they don't actually compost, just recycle and mulch.  I called the City of Vienna, but they don't compost either.  The City suggested I try looking for local community gardens.  The County worker was blunt: "I have no idea; that never really comes up."

Undaunted, we now plan to give worms a shot.  We're going to invest in a little Worm Factory and several hundred Red Wrigglers and see if we can't fertilize our garden while minimizing our waste.  As we struggle to find our way, I'm glad that the Compost Cabs of the world exist and I'll try to check in on Walker Jones now and again to see how The Farm is shaping up.

Vertical Farming

Can you imagine a five-story vertical farm built smack dab in the middle of Milwaukee?  2008 MacArthur Fellow Will Allen can and he's on his way to making it happen.

 On Saturday, April 16th, I got up early and hopped on the Metro.  I was headed into D.C. for the "2011 International Urban Sustainability Action Summit".  The event - held at, and sponsored in party by, UDC - brought a hundred or so folks together to discuss this year's theme: "Food - Sovereignty, Security and Justice".


There were panels and workshops, guest speakers and information booths - so much that I could write about.  But for me, Will stole the show.

Will's organization, Growing Power, started in 1995 when he bought the last urban farm in Milwaukee.  He had grown up on rural farmland in Maryland, just outside of D.C. (land, he pointed out, that has transformed over the years into a chain of suburbs).  But in Milwaukee, he translated rural know-how and determination, as well as entrepreneurial savvy, into urban miracles.  He built up farms, and he also built up the community around him.  He activated youth volunteers, for example, teaching them not only how to grow crops, but also how to read, write, and perform math.

His operation has grown substantially.  Here are a few of the details:

Vegetable Hoop House

• Developed an urban farm model that feed 10,000 people per 3 acres.
• Redirected 22 million pounds of food waste away from landfills and into compost.
• Used compost to insulate the inside and outside of large hoop houses, creating the ability to grow certain crops year-round (even in the midst of Midwest winters!).
• Worked with communities to target high crime urban areas for flower garden projects and to convert empty lots where drug deals often occur into community gardens.
• Converted abandoned buildings into vertical gardens and aqua-ponic farms (indoor fish farms, basically).
• Remodeled roofs into gardens for local businesses.
• Used solar power to power farms.
• Collected rain water to irrigate.
• Built machines that convert compost into methane gas; that is, fuel to power his operations.
• Raised goats, chickens, turkeys, and bees in urban settings.
• Targeted "farm deserts" (urban areas with no local markets for purchasing groceries) for farmers markets and hoop houses.
• Grown network of farms to expand across the U.S. and even abroad (London, Kenya, and Ukraine, for example).

His organization relies on over 40 different funding streams.  He's making money while doing good - a model, he suggests, more non-profits need to consider.

His next big project is a five-story vertical farm in the heart of Milwaukee.  The building will include a first floor market, educational areas, aqua-ponics, and tiered green house space.  I'm not sure what the time-line is, but I hope to make it out to Milwaukee when it's done.

If you're curious, I found an interesting article in The Economist entitled, "Vertical Farming: Does it really stack up?"  I'm new to the concept and the technology, so I'll wait to weigh in.  But I will say this: Will seems like the kind of guy who can pull rabbits out of hats.  I'll be waiting optimistically for word from Milwaukee.

Post Script

Will would be disappointed if I didn't share with you what he feels is the most important point of his presentation: "It's all about the soil."  His research suggests that in the U.S., today's soil is 50% as nutrient as soil was in the 1950's.  Less healthy soil means less healthy fruits and vegetables; less healthy animals, for that matter, because they feed on the fruit of the soil before we feed on them.  Both mean a less healthy humanity.

Dina and I are experimenting with anaerobic compost in a little unit that sits on our balcony.  In our first week of using it, I was shocked by how much compostable material we produce.  Multiply that by a globe full of couples and families - it blows my mind!  We're starting a little garden on our balcony (tomatoes, herbs, chard, and peppers - more on that in future blogs) and hope to use our compost to fertilize our food.  It's a drop in the bucket, I know, but as drops go, this one feels pretty good.

Seared Scallops with Citrus Mint Gastrique

What, you're probably asking, do seared scallops have to do with the farm?  Nothing, really.

I tried to craft some clever connection, but here's the truth of it: my last blog touched briefly on Chef Tony Pope and his restaurant, Le Bistro.  One of the many lessons Tony taught me was how to cook "Oh my God!" scallops; you know, the scallops that melt onto your taste buds and demand an "Oh...my...God!" on impact.

Tonight I took a culinary tour down memory lane and prepared a riff on Tony's scallops for me and Dina.  Here's the recipe...

Seared Scallops with Citrus Mint Gastrique

Ingredients:

• Fresh, as-local-as-you-can-get-'em scallops
• Fresh mint
• Fresh lemon and orange (I used a couple of clementines, but you could use navel oranges...or blood oranges, that would be fun)
• Fresh ginger
• Shallot
• White wine
• Honey
• Canola oil (or blended or grapeseed - something with a subtle flavor and a high smoke point)
• Crushed garlic clove
• Salt, pepper, and cayenne
• Sauce pan, cast iron skillet (or other good skillet), fish spatula, and a metal spoon

Steps:

Starting the Sauce

1. Pick the leaves off a couple of sprigs of mint.  Rough chop or chiffonade the mint leaves (depending on the look you're going for) and reserve them for use later in the sauce.  Keep the stems handy for use in the gastrique.
2. Fine dice a shallot.
3. Smash up and inch or so of ginger.  I recommend using the tip of a metal spoon to scrape the skin off (a trick another chef taught me - works like a charm).  Then cut it it half length-wise.  Take the back of your knife (yes, the dull end) and whack up and down the ginger.  This breaks down the rigid root and prepares it to give up more flavor to the sauce.
4. Heat a heavy sauce pan on medium high.  Let a little butter melt in the pan as it's getting hot.  As the butter starts to brown, toss in the shallots and sautee until they are translucent (I like to add a little fine sea salt to build flavor.
5. Add some white wine - maybe a 1/4 or 1/2 cup, depending on how much sauce you need - and bring to a light boil.  Then lower heat to a simmer and start to reduce.  
6. A note about cooking with wine: you don't need to use expensive wine to cook with, but at least buy something that is pleasant to drink.  If you cook with bad wine, you're just reducing and concentrating that bad flavor.  And think about the impact you want it to have on your sauce.  This sauce is a little sweet with citrus notes, so I'm going to look for a crisp white wine, something with a touch of grapefruit, for example, might be nice.
7. Here's where the fun starts.  You can get creative, exploring with lots of fruit and spice and sweetness.  I wanted the light sweetness honey lends, so I added a little.  Not too much - you can always add more later, but can't take it out.  I also added the ginger pulp, the mint stems, a little lemon juice and the juice from two clementines.  Remember, you'll have an opportunity to boost these flavors later, so don't go overboard.  Taste the reduction along the way and if a flavor is growing too strong, take it out of the pot.  At any point you can strain out the solids and continue reducing the wine by itself.
8. This isn't a step, but I want you to know that it's o.k. to make mistakes...as long as you correct them.  I, for example, didn't add enough ginger and mint, so the flavors weren't showing up in the reduction the way I wanted.  So I threw in a ginger mint tea bag - yup, my favorite after-meal tea - and let it steep for a few minutes while the wine continued to reduce.
9. Once the liquid had starts to get thick, add about a half a cup of light veg stock (made from water, onion, celery, parsley stems, a green apple, and an orange - you can make it in an hour) and bring it back up to a simmer.  Once the combination of liquids has re-thickened, strain off any solids left in the sauce and leave off the heat nearby.

Searing the Scallops

1. Get a well-seasoned cast iron skillet good and hot.
2. While it's warming, roll the scallops in some canola oil.  Liberally salt both sides (again, fine sea salt) and if you like a little spice, sprinkle a touch of cayenne on one side only (scallops have such great natural flavor - don't go overboard with the cayenne).  And, make sure you have a little white wine handy to de-glaze the pan.
3. When the skillet is hot (a drop of water should hit the pan, hiss, dance around, and evaporate quickly), lay your scallops down flat in the pan.  Don't crowd.  
4. This next step is very important:  BE PATIENT!  If you try to flip the scallops too soon, they will stick to the pan and you'll loose that beautiful, dark, tasty sear.  So just relax and let the scallops do the same.
5. A note on pan heat: If the pan isn't hot enough, you'll never get a good sear.  The scallop will cook through and it'll ruin the texture before you ever get a good, crisp exterior.  If, at any point, the pan starts to smoke, the pan is too hot and you risk burning the scallops.  Take the pan off the heat for a while.  You could add a little room temperature oil to help protect the scallops, but do NOT add cold water and do NOT add butter.  The former will make the sear mushy and the latter will burn right up (because of butter's low smoke point) and give that burnt flavor to the scallops.
6. Once you see a dark rim form around the scallop where it touches the pan, test and see if the scallop is ready to release.  You can use your fingers or tongs (be gentle), but just wiggle it a little to see if it's sticking.  If so, let it hang out for another minute and try again.  If you're still having trouble, add a little butter to the pan.  This will often aide the release.  This is where the fish spatula comes in real handy.  You wanna flip the scallops over without leaving any flesh on the pan.
7. Once the scallops are flipped, toss a little butter in the pan, as well as a little lemon thyme, a crushed clove of garlic, maybe some sprigs of mint.  Tilt the pan at a slight angle so the melted butter and herbs are all together on one side (not too steep, however, because you want the scallops to sit tight).  Use the metal spoon to bathe the scallops in the flavored butter.
8. High quality scallops can be eaten raw and at this point, your scallops are probably sitting at rare.  I'd baste them 'til about medium rare and take them out of the pan then, but it's up to you and your guests' preferences.  Tent them with foil while you finish the sauce.

Finishing the Sauce

1. Remove any herbs/garlic from the pan and pour in a little wine.  You can use the same metal spoon to incorporate any scallop juices in the pan.  And scrape up any fond, incorporating it into the thickening wine.  As it thickens, pour in some (or all, depending how much you made) of the foundation sauce from earlier.  
2. Taste the sauce and add more salt if needed.  Whisk in some butter to make it thicker and more rich.  Hit it with a little more lemon and/or orange juice if you want to bump up the citrus flavor.  This is your "second bite at the apple", a chance to add anything that's missing or re-balance as you like.
3. The final step is to stir in the chopped mint.  If you do this too soon, the mint will turn a nasty, dark color.

Plate the scallops, ladle sauce generously, and enjoy! 

---

For my birthday this year, my good friends The Jenkins got me a beautiful Himalayan salt block.  Tonight, instead of flipping the scallops in the skillet, I flipped them on to the stone which I had heated at 450 degrees for 30 minutes.  Great flavor!

If I had had a table of guests, I would have brought them out to the table this way - still sizzling - with the salt block lying on a decorative towel folded onto a plate (this way you don't get burned and neither do the plate or the table).

Two Donkeys and a Septuagenarian

What do two donkeys, a septuagenarian, an Italian apothecary, some monks, and a D.C. sommelier have in common?  It was never a question I knew to ask, but I'm exceptionally grateful that I now know the answer.

Last Friday night, in honor of my friend Drew's birthday (that's Drewberto for those of you who knew and loved him back in the day at Le Bistro), his sister Katie organized a celebratory dinner.  At first, she had made reservations at Citronelle.  No, not because of their 60-hr short ribs (although that would have been and excellent reason).  And no, not because of Chef Michelle Richard's cooking (which would be a poor reason since he spends so little time there).  But instead because  Drew, Katie, Blake, and I - four of the evening's six revelers - had worked together under Chef Tony Pope and Tony, long ago, had worked in Richard's laureled kitchen.

On occasion, Tony would regale us with stories from the pressure cooker that was the kitchen at Citronelle.  I own Richard's cookbook.  It's entitled "Happy in the Kitchen".  But according to Tony - and others who have corroborated his stories - "happy" is not the best adjective to describe Richard in the kitchen at Citronelle.

In one story, Tony brings a brand new Global Japanese knife to work (a cook's knives are his or her dearest possession and on a line cook's salary, a real splurge!).  Richard walks by and uses one of Tony's knives to demonstrate a cut.  Appalled by how dull the knife is, Richard raises the knife high into the air and drops it, tip first, onto the unforgiving concrete floor.  The tip cracks, but Tony does not.

We've all wanted to visit and experience the restaurant behind the stories.  But at over $100 a person for the prix fixe, Citronelle, on second thought, did not seem like the best pick for our crew. 

So after a flurry of last-minute texts and emails - and a noble effort by Katie to call all of the restaurants on our list - we decided on Bibiana.  I wasn't, I have to confess, actually interested in eating Italian that night.  I had planned to prepare a very Italian meal for some friends on Sunday and was hoping for something different: Jose Andres' Oyamel or maybe Indian food at Risika.  Thank you, food fates, for not listening to me!

Chef Nicholas Stefanelli

We started with the charcuterie plate which was strong, but didn't wow.  However, it and the bottle of prosecco we ordered were a lovely way of easing into the evening.  Next we shared a few small plates.  Blake and I shared the hay smoked veal sweetbreads.  The hay flavor was so subtle, it lingered on the palate, recalling memories of the farm.  And the way they plated the dish - white plate strewn with hay, thyme, and rosemary, topped with see-through glass plate, topped by sweetbreads and sauce - created a lovely, heightened aromatic experience.

I should pause and say a little about sweetbreads.  First, I love them!  They are tender and creamy, flavorful and satisfying.  Second, they are offal, the "off" cuts of meat, the parts that fall "off" a carcass when it's being butchered - basically the organs and what-not.  Chris Cosentino - a culinary hero of mine whose restaurant Incanto I staged at one night before moving away from San Francisco (the chefs and the food there ROCK!) - maintains and entire website about offal, if you're interested.

Third, sweatbreads - in my mind - are the gateway offal.  Their flavor and texture are much more approachable than other organs.  So if you're feeling adventurous and are looking for a good place to start, here's a dish, if prepared well, that will ensure you have a good first experience (you can try tripe or "Rocky Mountain Oysters" first if you're feeling daring - but I warned you!).

Fourth, and this is perhaps the most important, for me sweetbreads emergent popularity in American restaurants embody the hope that someday soon we will remember how to respect the sacrifice made by the animals we consume.  We, unlike the rest of the world, seem to have forgotten that in addition to the 8oz of filet mignon and 16oz rib eye, there are over a thousand other pounds of usable beef on a cow, not to mention a flavorful tongue, unctuous marrow, and a tasty thymus, aka "sweetbreads".  But enough sermonizing, back to dinner...

To start, Dina ordered the ricotta.  So simple - buffalo milk ricotta, wild rose honey, chives , and almonds - yet so sublime.  The night could have ended there and I would have walked away raving about the place.

But it didn't end there.  We enjoyed squid ink spaghetti with crab meat and burnt wheat cavetelli (who knew burnt wheat would taste so good!) and an osso bucco of veal cheeks and much more.  Everyone ordered their own dish, but we passed the plates around the table, sampling a little bit of everything.


Dessert was delicious.  The Bomba al Cioccolato was just that, a divine, decadent "bomb" of chocolate.  The green cardamom white chocolate foam and cassis compote that accompanied the Semifreddo was so delicate and sophisticated.  And the kitchen sent out an extra dessert in honor of Drew's birthday.  It was the perfect way to end the evening.

Wine Dir. Francesco Amodeo

Well, we thought it was perfect until Bibianna's Wine Director Francesco Amodeo pushed the night right right past perfection.   

We had been intrigued by the dessert menus listing of Rosoli, described as "Amalfi Coast homemade digestives" and offered in a collection of three or a flight of six.  The waitress sent Francesco over to help us make a selection.  His first piece of advice?  Order six different flavors and share.  Done.  He then offered to let us sample a must-try: "Concerto".  Why so special, we asked.  Evidently there is a group of monks in Italy who have perfected this recipe.  They won't give you the recipe, but they will give it to a 77 year old woman who lives in the neighboring village.  She cleans for them.  They like her.  She can then make you a batch of Concerto.

So if you rent two donkeys, one for you and one for the septuagenarian, and travel up the grueling path to the monastery, then pay really close attention as she's making the secret recipe, then order special ingredients from an Italian apothecary, then bring all that back to the U.S., you too can proudly serve Concerto in your restaurant...if, that is, you have the patience to invest several months into a single batch.

The drink is dark, cloudy, an intriguing and alluring mystery.  The nose suggested coffee and the flavor...well, there was coffee and licorice and earth and spice...it was like light passing through a prism and breaks into so many wonderful, new colors.  There was so much nuance; it was perfect.  

Francesco asked us to wait and sample it last, even though he brought it out first and I'm glad we did.  It was so good, nothing could have followed it...nothing, except for a second round of Conerto...which is exactly what we did.  I have to warn you: there is no more Concerto.  If there had been, we certainly wouldn't have left.  But never fear, if you wait patiently until June, his next batch will be ready.

On a final note, the food philosopher in me has to ask: would the drink have been as good if Francesco hadn't told the story?

No, on second thought, I don't have to ask.  It was an amazing story, an awesome beverage, and the best birthday celebration we could have ever hoped for.  And that is all that needs to be said.

Picasso and Blogging

Do you remember the film Memento?  It came out in 2000 and I loved it!  It ripped back and forth between the present and the past, piecing together a story with a fragmented plot.  It did with film, I think, what Picasso and cubism did for painting; that is, synthesize sensory fragments in a way that generated an impression of meaning and truth.

Guernica by Pablo Picasso

My college art professor described it this way: Step 1, take a mirror image of something; Step 2, shatter that image; Step 3, forget what the original image looked like; Step 4, remember what your experience of it felt like; and Step 5, reassemble the shattered fragments in the way that best recreates that feeling.

What, you're probably wondering, do nonlinear narratives and cubism have to do with the farm?  Well, I  no longer work on the farm.  I'm up in the D.C. area living and looking for work.  I've still got a ton of blogs-in-process that recount my adventures on the farm.  But each week I enjoy new adventures that I'd like to share.

So much like Memento, this blog will begin to jump forward and backward between the present and the past.  I'm hoping not to jar your sensibilities, but rather to share with you an impression of the experience I'm having as The Apprentice.  It's no Guernica, but I hope you enjoy.

This Little Piggie Went to D.C.

Where to begin?  First, a big thank you.  Thank you to the Bradford Family from Leaping Waters Farm who generously shared a break on the Cochon tickets with me and some close friends.  And thank you to my family who gave me the birthday gift of a ticket to the big event.  Without you, this experience would have never been possible.

Second, a little perspective.  Cochon 555 started with artisinal cheeses, French vodka and caviar, and boutique pickles and charcuterie.  We sipped West Coast wines in the late afternoon sun atop of the Newseum's rooftop decks and rubbed elbows with D.C. area celebrity chefs.  This was no average day on the farm.

An average day on the farm is sweaty and dirty and fun, but in a very different way.  Since the Bradford girls enthusiastically crowned Cochon "The Pig Party", I thought you might like to see what the pig party usually looks like on the farm:

 

And when the pigs are really hungry, the party looks a little more like this:

But this is what our D.C. pig party looked like:

As much as I love the daily pig party we have on the farm, I LOVED the singular pig party that was Cochon 555!  But wait, I need to back up.

Before we got to the party, I got a call from Alec (friend and farmer).  Dina (girlfriend and partner in porcine crime) and I were planning on meeting him and the girls for lunch.  He was going to try and make reservations at the Westend Bistro, Eric Ripert's D.C. restaurant.  We were pretty excited because Joe Palma, the Chef de Cuisine, is a great cook and a great guy to boot.  We had eaten dinner on the pass one night where we discovered that we loved the food and appreciated Joe's willingness to talk with us about what he was serving.

But when we arrived, the restaurant was closed to the public.  There was a private event, but Joe - who buys pigs from Alec - had invited the Bradfords and us to join the festivities.  We sipped mimosas while the girls finished chicken and waffles.  It was the best possible way to start the day!

 

Photo by Kenan Dunson*

O.k., back to the Party.

When we first arrived, there was wine, champagne, and tasty, artisanal cocktails.  An expansive oval of people rotated around the main room, pausing at each of the competing chef's table to sample their various piggie preparations.

Photo by Kenan Dunson*

The first stop was Tarver's table.  I met Tarver King when he cooked at a Guest Chef event at the restaurant - Local Roots - where I was General Manager.  His talent and creativity were impressive.  And so was his warmth and sincerity.  As one of our servers remarked, "After the dinner and the drinking, he remembered my name...who does that?"

He cooked with one of Alec's Big Black's and his food was phenomenal!  Here's one of his dishes: cracklin's with ketchup and mustard powder (think sup'ed up version of a a red & yellow hotdog).  I didn't taste it, but Alec said Tarver's plate to the judges included a homemade buttermilk ice cream that incorporated crispy bits of pig skin.  Goodbye chocolate chips.  Hello pig skin!

Photo by Kenan Dunson*

Next we visited Adam Sobel's table where I dove into the dirtiest martini ever.  Somehow they got fat back and truffles into the vodka and they stuffed the olives with pickled pig knuckles.  Pulled pork cupcakes, pork belly ramen, a nacho bite built on a chicharron - dear God!

On to Bryan Voltaggio's table where we were wowed by his well-oiled-machine of a team and his flawless food.  Among other impressive feats, he had lodged a touch of soft pork pate inside of a crispy meringue and coaxed bourbon and smoked ham hock into a chestnut cream soda.

Photo by Kenan Dunson*

Along the way, Tallulah and Sadie - Alec's two youngest daughters - would get bored and tear off into the crowded sea of pig party goers.  At one point Tallulah unknowingly backed into Bryan Voltaggio who greeted her cheerfully as she apologized.  Dina, who was doing the chasing at that point, said, "Hi Bryan, you've met Tallulah, haven't you?  From Leaping Waters Farm?"  We laughed about it later...I mean, she may not have been on Top Chef, but Tallulah is a pretty big deal.

Although we missed most of it, Dina and I managed to catch the tail end of the butchery contest.  Pamela Ginsberg of Wagshal's Market rocked the competition.  As we approached, it was clear that there was no chance the poor guy from Whole Foods was going to catch up with her.  In the video below, you can hear the chant: "Jason! Jason!"  But what I didn't catch on film was Pamela throwing down her last cut of meat as rally chant gave way to victory cheer.  Pamela, if you're out there, I've decided I want to be you when I grow up!

Photo by Kenan Dunson*

By the time we got to Scott Drewno's table - who also cooked one of Alec's pigs, this time a Berkshire - much of the food had run out.  We were delighted, however, to taste his PBR Squared...so delighted, in fact, that I had to go back for seconds.  When the desserts came out, we also got to try his bacon-almond brittle which was a matchless marriage of savory and sweet.

If you've made it this far, thank you.  This has been an unusually long entry, but the day was unusually spectacular.  Let me finish with one last video clip:

Scott won and the press pinned him the "Prince of Pork".  Which also means that the farm won, because he was cooking one of Alec's pigs.  Alec and another heritage breed pig will accompany Scott to Food and Wine's Aspen Classic for the final Cochon cook-off.  We were all excited for Scott and for Alec.  But whereas Scott got the praise and the press, the farm got lost in the shuffle.  As you can see in the video, Alec - whose smiling face I pass in the crowd - is not up on stage with Scott to receive the trophy.

It's a shame.  Cochon says that it wants to bring public attention to the small family farms who still struggle to raise the happiest, best tasting pigs on the planet.  But the chef, not the farm or the pig, was the star of this show.  Don't get me wrong, Scott and his team did great work and deserve the cheers and the trophy.  But he worked on preparing that pig for a week.  Alec is out there week after week making sure those pigs have a good, healthy life and a clean, easy death.  I can attest - as future blogs will recount - that the work of the farm is hard, messy, and relentless.

I think Alec and his family deserve a trophy too.  And I'm hoping that when he and Scott win in Aspen, there'll be one waiting for him.

- - -

*I had some trouble with the camera I brought to the event.  Although the videos are mine, the photos were taken by Kenan Dunson and can be found with others on the Examiner.

Please check out the chefs, the farms, and the vineyards…

Chefs & Pigs

Scott Drewno, The Source – Berkshire from Leaping Waters Farm

Tarver King, Ashby Inn + Restaurant - Large Black from Leaping Waters Farm

Jamie Leeds, Hank's Oyster Bar - Gloucestershire Old Spot from Ayrshire Farm

Adam Sobel, Bourbon Steak DC - Tamworth from Gryffon’s Aerie

Bryan Voltaggio, VOLT - Farmers Cross from Eco Friendly Foods

The Five Wineries

Alysian Winery

Copain Wines

Elk Cove Vineyards

Adelsheim Vineyard

Sokol Blosser