Dollars & Sense

This morning, in the Times Free Press online, I found that the Chattanooga Market will not re-open for its seventh season. This news follows at the heels of news we received about a month ago, that Mia Cucina—Chattanooga’s only cooking store—would close its doors.

In neither case am I the least bit surprised. A weekly grand production of music, art, food, and event deemed Sundays on the Southside, many Sundays the majority of sales seemed to be vendor-to-vendor. Where were the customers?

And Mia Cucina’s closing, in the shadow of a great personal tragedy in the owner’s life, seemed inevitable as the store donned sales strategy after strategy—from cooking demos and on-staff chef; to high-end ware sales; to celebrity-chef, open-and-use foods; to catch-as-catch-can cooking-related gadgets—in an effort to afford mall-area rent.

After a dark few decades of ever-more-processed foods, the 21st century seemed to promise enlightenment. The message organic is normal, organic is what once was—before the innovation of chemical pest-control and commercial farming—pierced the consumer with conviction. The artisan food producer pulled out of the shadows and was plastered on the walls of Wholefoods. But the age of food enlightenment is deterred greatly by the economics of the American checkbook.

When we started Alchemy, I had full faith that folks would pay for what we offered. And they will—if they can afford it. But so many can’t, as Chris and I would-but-can’t afford to shop at the very groceries that carry our products. Yes, many people want to partake of organic, artisan foods, but so many cars need new starters, so many husbands need button-up shirts for the office, so many wives need a good haircut, and so many just need a weekend night-on-the-town to blow off the stress of finances and work and politics.

John Kessler of the Atlanta Journal Constitution offered an article entitled, Tenderloin’s a steal, but at what moral price? which outlined his dilemma of purchasing a superstore’s $34.99 five-pound beef tenderloin, knowing that the tenderloin from an organic, humanly-raised cow would cost $27.99 per pound. Ultimately, the thought of an affordable dinner party was too sexy to pass up, and Kessler received a tongue-lashing from readers in regard to that decision.

Perhaps I’m muddy-ing basic black-and-white ethics with dollars-and-cents, but if this food artisan can’t see the organic apples for the orchard, how might we expect our American families to sink their bucks into heirloom Spitzenberg’s when their kids need school supplies?

Chattanooga Justice or That Crazy Man with the Hair Bag

Jerry, my husband's father, took Chris and I to lunch at Sugar's Big Time Barbeque this afternoon. Sugar's rotisserie chicken is good; the grilled onions with a sprinkling of kosher salt are great. And I appreciate that the restaurant's fleet of lawncare specialists also eat corncobs, wilted heads of cabbage, and nearly anything else you offer--though they snubbed their little goat snouts at the corn bread that I threw into their pen. My only dislike of Sugar's is that they use all disposable serving ware--forks, knives, cups, and plates; it's time folks realize disposable really isn't.

But a break from food for a second: this morning I had to appear in court to "testify" against a guy who stole my license plate. I didn't see him steal my license plate, so I really had very little to offer; however, I was surprised to find that the thief walked only a few streets from his home to steal my plate. What's more, he was caught on February 1 drunk off his ass--slurred speech and his third DUI--driving on a revoked license at twenty-five mph, with a pocket full of marijuana, and sporting my license plate!

That said, perhaps it's just my recent court experience, but there are particularly blurred lines between right and wrong around here. One locally-known and obviously-crazy homeless man--the one with the hair bag--appeared today in court for loitering in the library. The judge asked, "Were you looking for something to read?" Then he sentenced the man to, "Stay away from the library." Meanwhile, Chattanooga's sheriff was arrested last Saturday, caught, hot-handed, holding 22 lbs. of cocaine and distributing weapons to drug dealers.

When Chris and I left the courthouse today and collected the parking ticket from under our wiper--it took two hours before my plate-thief could ask for an extension--I suppose it felt good to know that our eleven bucks would help fund Chattanooga's impeccable justice system which is about as good as throwing our eleven bucks to the trash with our plastic forks or feeding it to Sugar's lawncare crew.

Celeb-Chef-Salesman

Last night, Chris had a fun idea: serve celebrity chefs the food they put their faces on and see how they score their creations. A little under the weather, Chris requested chicken noodle soup. Without time to make a batch—I’ve used up all the homemade stock in my freezer—I bought him a can of Wolfgang Puck’s Organic Chicken & Egg Noodle Soup. He wasn’t especially impressed with the top chef’s version and proceeded to doctor with Alchemy’s fix-all Easygoin’ Seasoned Salt and pepper.

Tyler Florence and Applebee’s, Rachel Ray and Dunkin Doughnuts: a few million bucks certainly soothes the ego into submission and makes for a happy mug on a menu board.

Philosophy, Food, Fodder

In working on my cookbook, SCRATCH, I’ve come across a question essential to my study: do we cook simply because we like to eat? Hell no! So, why do we enjoy cooking? Any help you can give will be appreciated, perhaps used, and certainly over-analyzed. Give me some fodder here, folks. Thanks!

Saturday

This afternoon, I achieved a minor culinary success and had a great five hours of cooking. For a total grocery bill of seventy dollars and basic ingredients at home (flour, celery, butter, stock, seasoning, coconut), I cooked the following.

1. One large lasagna (4 meals); divided into meal-sized portions and frozen
2. Four hamburgers (ground with bacon); seasoned, formed, and frozen
3. Three dozen pierogies (potato, bacon, and cottage cheese); formed and frozen
4. Six quarts of chicken stock
5. Meat of one chicken; stewed and saved for the week’s lunches
6. One head of cabbage fermenting into sauerkraut
7. Two dozen carrot cookies with orange icing
8. Baked risotto with sausage (2 meals)

Here’s a loose outline of my procedure.

1. Stock: Put veggies & chicken into stockpot to soak for thirty minutes before cooking.
2. Lasagna: Sauté onion in Dutch oven.
3. Pierogies: Bring oven to 400 degrees and bake potatoes for 1 hr.
4. Lasagna & Burgers: Grind 2 lb. chuck roast. Remove ½ for lasagna and grind 4 slices of bacon into the other pound of beef.
5. Stock: Bring to a simmer.
6. Lasagna: Brown burger and ½ lb. Italian sausage. When browned, add tomatoes, wine, seasonings. Cook for 1 ½ hours.
7. Burgers: Season, form patties, freeze on cookie sheets.
8. Pierogies: Make dough.
9. Lasagna: Boil lasagna noodles, drain. Assemble lasagna.
10. Cookies: Steam carrots. Mash carrots and mix ingredients to a dough.
11. Pierogies: Remove potatoes from oven; cool briefly, skin.
12. Cookies: Bake cookies, cool on rack.
13. Lasagna: Bake lasagna.
14. Pierogies: Mix ingredients, roll dough, fill, freeze on cookie sheets.
15. Sauerkraut: Shred, “juice,” bottle.
16. Cookies: Make frosting; ice cookies.
17. Risotto: Make & bake.
18. Stock: Cool; pull chicken.

The point of all this is that I had a great time, and I felt pleasure in what I’d accomplished. And I made great progress in understanding timing in cooking and the thrift of overlapping ingredients and preparations—invaluable information in my purpose of establishing methods of SCRATCH cooking.

On another note, I started reading a super-interesting text called Cross Creek Cookery by Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings. The book was originally published in 1942, reprinted in 1996, and I picked it up this morning at a garage sale for $1.00—more about that later. For another dollar, I purchased In the Sweet Kitchen by Regan Daley; I look forward to trying her Poppy Seed Angel Food Cake with Grapefruit Curd. For my own book, I’ve been working on an angel food cake recipe, Saffron Angel Food Cake with Whipped Orange Water Mascarpone.

SCRATCH

This morning, I began constructing this blog—the hysteria of Six Feet Under re-runs in the background—and noticed several ads for Rice Krispies new Cereal Straws. Our old friends Snap, Crackle, and Pop have a new attitude: the typical small-adult, smart-ass, snarky-ness that America loves so much. They’re street-wise, irreverent, and rather than just snap, crackle, and pop, they now dip, sip, and munch as well. New Cocoa Krispy straws, a cereal shell lined with a chocolaty filling, are perfect for enticing America’s kids to drink they’re soy or lactose-free milk; great to wash down ADHD meds; an excellent means of inserting refined sugar and processed chocolatey-gunk into every aspect of young America’s diet. Awesome.

A few weeks ago, my husband and I visited our nephews in Washington, Indiana. Each of our older nephews (Drew, age 9 and Berkley, age 5) had a soccer game. At the last whistle of the game, the kids—especially the young ones—rushed towards the snack bar; Chris’s sister, Kara, explained that each soccer player is allowed to choose two snacks after their game. The parents pay for this in a round. Both of our nephews chose Mountain Dew and a candy item. Should gyms institute a similar practice?

I’ve just started reading Nourishing Traditions by Sally Fallon, a complex cookbook/food philosophy text that challenges America’s “diet dictocrats” with an all-natural, anti-vegetarian—and I’m talking sweetbreads and brains here—approach. There are a few ideas in the book that I easily buy into—views that reinforce my own belief system: avoid processed as much as possible, especially any “fattening” product that claims to be reduced-fat such as cream cheese and sour cream; eat a balance of meats and veggies; insert healthy foods whenever possible—oatmeal in waffles, flax seed in muffins. But I have trouble with the labor-intensive practices—such as soaking all grains for 24 hours—that will keep ordinary folks reaching for extruded cereals and instant rice.

Within the book I’m writing, SCRATCH, I hope to achieve a balance, less than extremist but a healthier version of ordinary. There’s a better way to live in post-modern America eating healthily, affordably, and interesting, and I intend to piece it together.