It is a little bit ironic that I am posting this now, since my household has had a significant setback in this arena this year. For over a year now we’ve been raving about the moral and physical benefits of our CSA, or Community Sponsored Agriculture, which I found via JustFood.org, queen-pin of all urban-agriculture hippie-sites. If you’ve been in earshot of any of the enthusiasts, you have probably experienced our lengthy sermons about what a mind-expanding experience it is to have amazing, fresh, local produce delivered to you every week, and the constant adventure of finding ways to cook the novel grub.
Things I’d never known existed before — garlic scapes, pea shoots, purslane — and those I did but never considered purchasing — beets, winter squash, sweet potatoes — are suddenly my favorite foods. Since signing on for the fruit share, I’ve discovered the breathtaking complexity of flavor in a New York State apple (NOT to be confused with those bland supermarket Red- and Golden Deliciouses! But that’s a whooole other post, my friends).
The fact that you pre-pay for the food and get whatever happens to be harvested that week makes you work a little harder planning your meals, maybe, but I can’t think of anything more worth the effort than the feeling (and flavor) of having prepped a totally local, totally delicious meal for yourself. Worried about not knowing how to cook all these exotic plants? Generally the CSA newsletter will give you a couple of handy tips for prep and storage, and frankly you’d be surprised how many things you can just throw in a frying pan with some oil & garlic.
Nobody really taught me how to cook, specifically, I’ve always just had to figure it out as I went along. And having the CSA has done more for this process than my 6 months as a student in London when the daily cooking lesson was “101 ways to prepare white rice, the only food you can afford.”
So yes, we’ve become veg-evangelical about the farmshare. Which brings me to the irony: we kind of dropped the ball on it this year and didn’t sign up in time. By the time we got our forms in order, all the shares were taken. Truth is I’m reading people’s Tweets about what they received in their shares this week and drooling with envy. Sigh. So until next year, it’ll be the Greenmarket for me, and the solace of becoming Captain Vegetable to those around me.
3 fried scallion cakes, 6 chive veg dumblings, and noodle soup for $5.50 at Sweet Spring Restaurant.
Semi- random things I thought about while I ate this:
Sometimes at work I hear people complaining about New York City and how much more they could have if they didn’t live here. They could have a huge backyard and lots of space. Inevitably they ask, “why oh why do they live in NY?” I have always been very clear why I”m here. I am here for the food. This is one of the most delicious cities in the world. In addition (and I”ve been told that this is very specific to New York compared to other major cities), is you could have an amazing meal here for $100 a person almost as easily as you could have an amazing one for $5.50. This is of course so long as you know where to look.
I grew up eating Chinese food. Some of my earliest memories involve egg rolls.
Just in case you were unaware, in terms of non-chinatown American Chinese food Staten Island’s is fantabulous.
The way to juge American Chinese food is always by the fried rice. Fried rice should never be yellow. It must be brown and preferably not have square carrots and peas.
Sweet Spring Restaurant is located at 25A Catherine Street.
We are making a very slow crawl into the beginning of spring and the end (FINALLY) of winter. You may find you need a little something special to keep you going. Might I suggest that you stop reading this (STOP NOW!) and go find some blood oranges.
You actually do need to hurry because the blood orange season is ending pretty soon. But really, when you bite into a blood orange its like a burst of magic in your mouth. When you open your eyes there are chihuahuas, smiles and rainbows everywhere.*
If you saw TONY this week, you’ll know that Astoria on 30th avenue was mentioned as being one of the New Yorkiest blocks in NY. That’s cool, but they missed alot of awesome places, which luckily you can read about here on the blog and of course at Joey in Astoria. They mentioned Tereizzi bakery, which is pretty cool. But right now we are pretty obsessed with the almond horseshoes from Frank’s bakery . You’ll want to hurry and eat that. Passover starts Weds evening.
You too can be a graphic artist even if you don’t understand anything about photoshop or other complicated programs. All you need is a basic understanding of MS Paint and how to cut and paste. A love of pac-man is helpful, but not required.
It happened early in 2008, about this time of year when winter feels like it should just give up already, but instead it keeps on going with the cold, the wet, and the misery. I must say I blame Suti for the whole conundrum. We had been working up to it for a while, and finally the day came when we stomped our snowy boots into the innocuous storefront on 17th street to sample the much-heralded goods.
And I have to admit – it was all over from there.
I am of course talking about the hot chocolate at City Bakery. It has been described as the “best in the city”, as sickeningly rich; it has been likened to drinking hot dark chocolate brownie batter. It is so. Freaking. Good. I’ve become choco-vangelical about it. I won’t let people rest until they’ve sampled a 3 oz cup, because 3 oz is all you need and you will be flying. I’m not exaggerating: this chocolate literally makes you high. I hear it has been outlawed in Gramercy for fear it might incite chocolate disorder and civil unrest.*
I am torn between my enthusiasm for awesome, dark, thick hot chocolate, though. It is a …ahem…. bittersweet affection for me. For all the joy that coming to know really good hot chocolate — and not just City Bakery but at chocolate specialists all over the city — has brought, it has come at the cost of enjoying a cup of Swiss Miss when that’s what’s available. I have become one of those intolerable food snobs who only drinks gourmet cocoa. But I can’t help it. Swiss Miss just doesn’t do it for me anymore – kind of tastes like hot brown water. I gotta have the real thing, or I guess I’ll just take tea, thanks.
This falls under the category of so bad that its good, but then goes back to bad again. Then good. Then your head explodes.
Often I find myself feeling so sad for children today who don’t know the wonders of Popeye, Pee Wee Herman or Kermit the Frog. “Those poor kids with their Hannah Montana,” I think. Then while watching daytime television this morning I came opon this:
We are left to decide if its a tradgedy that children of 2009 don’t know Urkel.
The General Enthusiast 