Eater - All |
- How Public Libraries Are Seeding America’s Gardens
- Can This Cultivated Meat Startup Make Lion Meat a Thing?
- An Eater’s Guide to Michigan’s Upper Peninsula
- A Lobster Curry Recipe Made for Solace and Sustenance
- Hot Cross Buns Have Finally Made It in America
- Eater Lands Multiple Nominations for 2022 James Beard Media Awards
| How Public Libraries Are Seeding America’s Gardens Posted: 29 Apr 2022 06:31 AM PDT  Libraries across the country are fighting food insecurity by offering communities free seeds and gardening education This story was originally published on Civil Eats. At the public library in Mystic, Connecticut, a card catalog that formerly stored book due dates now holds endless packets of seeds. There's eggplant and kale, marigolds and zinnias; more than 90 different types of seeds available for anyone with a card to take home and plant. "The library has become so much more than just a place to come in and get books," said Leslie Weber, the youth services associate at the Mystic & Noank Library. "It's becoming a community center, and the seed library fits right into that. It gets people outside, gets children involved with gardening, and we're pushing to address food insecurity with it." The seed library in Mystic is just one of a number that have sprouted up around the country over the last decade — including in Georgia, California, Colorado, Arizona, and Maine — as libraries turn to seeds to help them meet the daily needs of the communities they serve in new ways. By offering patrons free seeds, the libraries can also combat hunger insecurity and biodiversity loss — all while building community resilience. "The American Library Association has added sustainability as a core value of librarianship," said Jenny Rockwell of the Oakland Public Library's (OPL) Asian Branch in Oakland, California. "Supporting a relationship with nature through gardening and stewarding seeds supports that intention." Seed sharing at public libraries date back to at least 2010, and while no one tracks just how such programs many there are across the, but it's likely the number has now reached into the hundreds. Many started after the pandemic forced people outside and encouraged them to find ways to be more resilient, especially in how they procure food. "This was something good that came out of COVID, because people gained a new appreciation for the outdoors," said Mystic & Noank Library Director Christine Bradley. During the early part of the pandemic, she said, "We did all the children's programming outdoors, we set up picnic tables, we started a children's garden, and now we're planning a whole library park. The seed library fits right in." The Give and TakeThe César E. Chávez Branch of the OPL system was the first of the city's 17 locations to start a seed library, in 2012, inspired by librarian Pete Villasenor, who saw one at the Potrero branch of the San Francisco Public Library. "We love showing our patrons that it doesn't have to be difficult to start their own gardens with the free seeds we offer here," said Villasenor. Over the years, more branches within the OPL system have added seed libraries — and after interest surged in 2020, OPL expanded its seed libraries to eight locations, with another expected to open soon. While each public library seed collection works differently, most allow patrons to take a certain number of seeds whenever they want. Traditionally, people have been encouraged to contribute seeds in reciprocity, either when they buy too many or collect them in their gardens. However, that policy varies between states as some state laws prohibit specific labels or require testing of seeds. Librarians often replenish their seed stocks by soliciting donations from nonprofit organizations and seed companies, such as the Seed Savers Exchange and Hudson Valley Seed Company (HVSC). Between November 2021 and February 2022, HVSC donated roughly 10,000 seed packets to seed libraries, schools, educational programs, and community gardens. Of the more than 200 requests for seeds from more than 30 states and Canada this year, slightly more than half of those requests came from people at institutions that were just starting a seed library or had been seeing much more demand. "We've been making donations since we started," said Catherine Kaczor, the sales and marketing manager at HVSC. "It's always been important for us to share that potential food and beauty. People deserve good food and vegetables that are part of their culture and their community." Some libraries also purchase seeds to give away. "In general, it is a lot of work for librarians to regularly solicit donations and funding for the seeds," said Rockwell, who says that keeping up with demand is nearly impossible. "Because the program is so popular and continues to expand, we are looking into identifying a consistent source of funding to buy seeds in a streamlined way instead of each library coordinating on their own [by] identifying donors." Beyond Seed DistributionSome seed libraries go far beyond simply handing out seeds. Many have created community workshops, events, and other programming to educate the community about seed saving, seed sovereignty, gardening, and urban agriculture. Some libraries — including the Mystic & Noank Library in Connecticut and the César E. Chávez Branch in Oakland — also have gardens on the library grounds where community members can grow or harvest food. "The garden has brought a lot of positivity and joy to our community and staff," said Villasenor of the Chávez branch. The library's Huerta de Dolores garden, named for Dolores Huerta, the co-founder of the United Farm Workers labor union who worked alongside César Chávez, has enabled some library patrons to adopt a small plot of soil in the shared space and inspired others to start their own gardens at home. "We all find that being out in the garden helps to relieve stress and helps to build community between patrons from all walks of life," Villasenor said. The Huerta de Dolores garden also includes a volunteer and youth intern program and the staff there work with the adult transition program at the Ala Costa Center, a nonprofit community-based organization that serves young adults with developmental disabilities. Volunteers help with everything from seed sorting, repacking, and organizing, to pruning, planting, weeding, and watering in the garden. Other libraries within the OPL system offer additional programs around the seed libraries, including giving away soil pellets, and growing instructions. More recently at a different branch, the library distributed grab-and-grow kits for Asian Pacific Heritage Month in May, which included free seeds, growing instructions, recipes, and more. Many libraries also encourage patrons to grow food for food banks with the seeds they receive. Weber and Bradley at the Mystic & Noank Library are urging patrons who take seed packets to plant an extra row to donate to local food banks as part of the Connecticut Food Bank's Plant a Row for the Hungry program. They are also considering planting a giving garden at the library where everything grown would be donated to a food bank in addition to the children's garden they already offer (at which this author volunteers). Pandemic-Driven ChangeThe seed library at the Jefferson Public Library in Jefferson, Georgia started in 2019 and has rapidly grown in popularity since then. Elizabeth Jones, the library's evening supervisor and seed librarian, estimates the library served 35 people in 2019, more than 200 in 2020, and more than 300 in 2021. She expects to surpass that number this year. When COVID shut down the Jefferson library, its librarians turned their attention to the library's website, which they sought to make, among other things, "a one-stop place for gardening expertise," Jones said. The two main goals of the seed library, Jones said, are to educate novice and experienced growers alike and to create a genetically diverse local seed stock that's acclimated to region despite a changing climate. In addition to providing seeds, the Jefferson seed library offers programs on topics including saving and cleaning seeds, composting, and preserving food. It also hosts a vegetable swap and a potluck where patrons can compare gardening notes. While Jones and the Jefferson Public Library focused on their website during the COVID shutdowns, others locations, including OPL and the University of San Francisco (USF) Seed Library, which started in 2014, used the pandemic as an opportunity to strengthen and grow their seed libraries. USF offered several different online classes and helped lead class discussions about the global seed industry and found ways to mail seeds to interested people. "We want to reduce barriers to growing food," said Carol Spector, a librarian at the USF Seed Library. "Sure, seeds aren't expensive — but if they're free and you can try it, it takes the risk out of it." Open to students and faculty, the USF Seed Library is a joint program between the school's library and the its Urban Agriculture Department. Containing 40 to 50 seed varieties in labeled coin envelopes, the collection prioritizes organic, heirloom, and culturally relevant seeds, with 20 to 30 types available at any given time based on the season. Offerings have evolved over the years to meet students' needs. "At first we prioritized vegetables," Spector said, "but over time, students became interested in flowers and herbs, which are often easier to grow on a dorm windowsill." Students within the urban agriculture program are introduced to the library during class; field trips to the library involve talks on how seed libraries can protect heirloom seeds and cultural traditions and the global decline in the genetic diversity of seeds. The hope — at USF and beyond — is to help people begin to see how growing food as an individual connects to the larger web of production and consumption with an eye toward improvement. "It's a way for students to learn about the food system in a really engaging way," said Spector. • Public Libraries Are Making It Easy to Check Out Seeds — and Plant a Garden [Civil Eats] |
| Can This Cultivated Meat Startup Make Lion Meat a Thing? Posted: 28 Apr 2022 08:08 AM PDT  An interview with the founder of Primeval Meats, a company that specializes in reproducing meat from wild animals Yilmaz Bora got the idea for his company, Primeval Foods, while watching an Eater video about Aska, a two-Michelin-starred Nordic restaurant in Brooklyn. In the video, chef Fredrik Berselius makes quenelles of caviar, inspects a live king crab, and forages ginkgo nuts. But the thing that caught Bora's attention was the bird. "It was not a chicken, but a bird," he said. Actually it was a quail, aged and cooked medium-rare, and served dead-bird-style, with the feet still attached. "The owner said he was serving hundreds of them each week," says Bora. As a vegan, this was unappealing but amazing to him, and it made him realize food that emphasizes a raw connection to nature excites a lot of people. So he started a company making cultivated lion meat. Okay, so there were a few steps in between, but Berselius leaving the feet attached to his quails clearly evokes a more rustic, caveman-like relationship to meat. A claw sticking out of the end of a leg reminds you you're eating a dead animal. It either disgusts you or taps into a primal human instinct. Bora thought about the logical conclusion — if humans are excited by the visceral image of a quail claw, they're probably even more excited by meats like lion, zebra, and giraffe, things that are both socially and legally taboo. What if there was a way to get meat-eaters to eat those things without actually harming animals? Primeval Foods specializes in reproducing meat from wild animals. Cultivated meat is different from plant-based meat — rather than mimicking the texture and taste of meat with other ingredients, cultivated meat is grown from cells in a lab, resulting in a product, at least according to these makers, identical to meat taken from a live animal. Bora isn't wrong. The idea of eating "exotic" meats like tiger and elephant — basically anything that falls outside of what is inspected and regulated by the USDA, and is instead left to FDA or state and local regulations or just not regulated at all — has consumed the collective palate before. Multiple restaurants have gotten in trouble for putting lion on the menu, which is technically legal to kill and eat if it's captive in the U.S., although still widely frowned upon. Clearly, people are curious. The promise of both plant-based and cultivated meat companies is essentially having our steak and eating it too. It's being able to save the planet without making any changes to our habits, and in fact, maybe adding even more meat into our diets without the guilt of knowing it required an animal to die and many poorly paid workers to process, and took a disproportional toll on global emissions. We spoke to Bora about cultivated meat, exotic animals, and whether that promise is even possible to fulfill. Eater: Tell me a little more about the creation of Primeval Foods. What are you trying to do with the company? Bora: So I had a venture capital fund in London [Bora is a managing partner at Ace Ventures]. We were investing in plant-based vegan start-ups, but at one point I started to think, "This isn't helping any animals, so we have to do something different. We have to do something bold because another fake meat company is not going to make people vegan. It's just monetizing the vegan community." And I'm also a vegan, by the way, so I started to think, "What can I do differently?" I started to think maybe we should try cultivated exotic meats, so the people with a toxic masculine attitude, the climate deniers, the hard carnivores, might ditch eating traditional slaughtered meat if they try this approach. People are going to seek out exotic meats, and by doing it with cultivated meat technology, there's no psychological barrier to trying those. You mentioned toxic masculinity and this very bro attitude of like, "I'm going to eat meat all the time." Why do you think people with that mentality would be attracted to more exotic meats like this? Why would that convert them rather than, say, a product like Beyond Meat, which mimics a beef burger? I think it's about sociological and psychological aspects of eating meat, because for hundreds of years eating meat was equated with being masculine. Man eats meat, stuff like that. At this point you cannot eat a lion, because there is so much opposition to eating an endangered animal [Editor's note: the lion is listed as "vulnerable" by the International Union for the Conservation of Nature]. And there's what I call the "carnivore's dilemma," where it's okay to eat some animals, it's okay to be friends with some animals, and it's okay to just watch some animals. But when you put the word "cultivated" and the technology behind it, it's okay to try them. What animals are you aiming to recreate, and what was your methodology in choosing which animals to introduce? At this point, just to start off, we were focusing on Instagrammability, and the lion is the most popular wild animal on the earth. So we are going to start with lion. But in the long run, the big cats have a unique amino acid protein profile because they move a lot. And they have big, big muscles, and they're carnivores so they have great contents of protein when you compare them with the chicken, pork, and beef. Also we're thinking about zebra, giraffe and elephant, but you will see [these] in the long run because it's a novel technology, a novel methodology, and there are specific things called cell lines. Cell lines are one of the most important things for [this] technology right now. In the long run, having efficient cell lines will show us which we want to focus on. Can you tell me more about how these are created? Because in my mind, somebody could potentially go out and buy a pork chop, and then create a cultivated pork chop, and then do a side-by-side taste test to see if those are similar. And as you said, that really isn't available for lion right now. So what are you doing to recreate this flavor? In the cultivated meat technology, we only cultivate simple aspects like fat or protein. But there are other components, like the tendons in the meat, the fibers, the blood, the sensory experience, the flavor experience, the smell, when you cut it with your knife, that experience. I think it's impossible to replicate all of this in cultured meat technology. For the exotic animals, our brains don't have any background data about eating a lion for taste. So we are very flexible about creating a flavor and sensory experience about it. We will start with restaurants in New York City where the chefs have the ability to create wonderful foods. And that's how you will have your initial meeting with the lion meat. It's going to be cooked by a chef, not a raw product you'll buy in a supermarket. But if I go to one of these restaurants and I order a lion steak, I have no preconceived notion of what lion tastes like. That presumably means that your company could make it taste like whatever wanted, right? For the taste, it's a copy-paste in the molecular and DNA structure. Just copy and paste it in the cultivator. Where are you getting the DNA? It's in cells. But where are you getting the lion cells? We sourced it from live captive animals for the big cats. For zebra, we sourced from an exotic meat market. But eventually, we will source the cells from wild and native animals rather than captured ones. For the captive animal, does that mean like zoos? Can you tell me where you are sourcing them from? It was like a sanctuary [where] people are allowed to just visit and take photos of them, but it was not like a commercial zoo. It was like a rich person who owns some exotic animals and he made a sanctuary for them and we sourced it from them. It's in Ankara, Turkey. And for the exotic meat market, I guess that means that for zebra you are engaging in the exotic meat trade, if you're getting this meat in order to recreate those cells. Does that make you feel conflicted in any way, that you're attempting to create this vegan food company, but you're still going to an exotic meat market to get some products? It was just one time. If you think about 80 billion farm animals slaughtered each year, it was just once. And we have to do it, because there's no other way to do it at the moment. The goals of many cultured and plant-based meat companies are to get heavy meat eaters to cut down or give up meat entirely, because what people are worried about is giving up something they really love. But given so few people have eaten lion meat or zebra meat or elephant meat, are you worried that someone eating a cultured lion steak is going to inspire them to go out and eat the real thing? If someone takes a flight from the U.S. to Africa, slaughters a lion, and cooks it, it won't taste good; I can guarantee you it will be the worst meat-eating experience because [the animals] are not domesticated. The same applies to the people who slaughtered cows thousands of years ago, but they did it for nutrition because it's a calorie-rich food. It took thousands of years to perfect it and create wagyu beef as they made it in Kobe, Japan. But we will accomplish it in just a few years, thanks to cultivated meat technology. A recent report said that "fake meat" production will not end the climate crisis — that highly processed alternative proteins may be worse for the environment, that large corporations are buying up alternative meat brands, and that so far increased alternative proteins have not reduced meat and dairy consumption. What do you make of that? Helping to fix the climate crisis is one of the main goals of Primeval Foods. There are lots of points I agree with in that report. But for the environmental impacts of cultivated meat, according to an independent study from the University of Oxford, cultured meat could be produced with up to 96 percent lower greenhouse gas emissions, 45 percent less energy, 99 percent lower land use, and 96 percent lower water use than conventional meat. Many more independent studies show that cultured meat can help fight the climate crisis. So it's not a question of if; it's a question of when. To have a meaningful and long-lasting impact, we need to target carnivores rather than vegans; I believe that should be the whole point of launching an alternative protein company. Since vegans are already vegans, making products for them won't make any impact on animals and the environment. What makes cultivated meat so unique is that it is real meat rather than plant-based meat. So cultivated meat provides the opportunity to reach a brand new demographic because some people will never ditch eating meat despite its negative environmental, health, and animal welfare effects. At the end of the day, we will see cultivated, plant-based, fermentation-based, and traditional meat in the market, but I believe traditional [meat] will have the tiniest share. Since this is cultured meat, it's based on the real thing, on real cells, but I feel like it opens up all these technological possibilities. Do you think there would ever be an option to create cultivated meats based on animals that have already gone extinct? If they went extinct in the last decade or the last two decades, I think it's possible to try it. In theory, it is possible, but for something like dinosaurs I don't think it's possible. What does your timeline look like for producing these products and getting them into restaurants? We were planning to have a tasting event in New York in one of those Michelin-starred restaurants. But we postponed that event. Right now we're building a team, a core team. We'll have the tasting, and after that we'll wait for the regulation. The USDA and FDA have been working on regulating cultivated meat since like 2018. If they approve, maybe next year; we're waiting for regulation to go to market. |
| An Eater’s Guide to Michigan’s Upper Peninsula Posted: 28 Apr 2022 07:32 AM PDT  Living in the UP has never been easy, but Yoopers (and visitors) have found comfort in delicious pasties and cudighis, fresh maple syrup and berries, and lots of fried fish On a map, Michigan's Upper Peninsula perches on top of Wisconsin looking a bit like a rabbit, its ears jutting into Lake Superior, back legs kicking into Lake Huron. The UP ("you-pee," not "up") has long attracted outdoorsy types. Every summer, droves of weekend warriors head up north from Milwaukee, Detroit, and Chicago, crossing from Lower Michigan over the 5-mile long Mackinac (mack-in-awe) Bridge or taking a puddle jumper to a small regional airport on their way to wooded cabins and remote lake houses. The Upper Peninsula is no cuddly bunny. Though the peninsula makes up about 30 percent of Michigan's landmass (including offshore areas like Drummond Island and Isle Royale), only about 300,000 people (or 0.03 percent of the state population) call the area home year-round. These brave souls — affectionately called Yoopers — know life here can be hard, with snowfalls that can total over 200 inches in the winter and summers muggy with mosquitos, flies, and ticks. But life in UP can also be pretty delicious, filled with wild berries and chaga mushrooms, freshly tapped maple syrup, steak- and potato-stuffed pasties, and weekly fish fries with Great Lakes perch, whitefish, and walleye. Whenever restrictions have ebbed during the COVID-19 pandemic, the UP's simple, salt-of-the-earth cuisine has been one of many draws for visitors, along with wide-open spaces, easy access from urban centers, and outdoor activities. The number of visitors to the Upper Peninsula has steadily risen during the pandemic, and more of those visitors are coming from outside the Midwest. Hotels and campgrounds have begun routinely booking up well in advance. So nab your backwoods cabin soon if you want a bite of a pasty in its prime. What is Yooper cuisine?Over centuries, residents have constructed a resilient food culture that fits the remote — at times harsh — environment, relying on wild game and hearty workaday provisions. Originally the UP was home to several Indigenous peoples, including the Ojibwe/Chippewa, Menominee, and Potawatomi, who thrived in the northwoods through a mix of hunting, fishing, trapping, foraging for wild fruits like thimbleberry, maple syrup production, and rice cultivation. In the 19th century, waves of immigrants came to work in iron ore mines or logging, first French Canadians, then miners from Cornwall, England, and finally Italians and Scandinavians (mostly from Finland and Sweden). With limited access to trade via ships through the Great Lakes or overland, imported food cultures also depended on ingredients that could be secured locally. These groups left a legacy of no-nonsense dining, but those traditions have trickled down into plenty of fun quintessential dishes. The best-known is the British pasty, a filling meal that miners could easily transport to the mines and reheat; the all-in-one hand pie is composed of pastry dough filled with meat (generally flank steak or hamburger), potatoes, and rutabaga. Whitefish, abundant in the Great Lakes, appear all over menus in the area too. Finally, don't leave without trying cudighi (homemade is best); the hyperlocal Marquette specialty consists of Italian sausage made with allspice, garlic, and nutmeg, pressed flat into a patty and served on a fresh, hard roll with onions and peppers. There aren't any major urban centers in the peninsula, so most food purveyors today are spread across a range of small towns and villages, alongside inns and vacation rentals. Many are small, mom-and-pop restaurants that have served communities for years. While you will find some fine dining options, most spots lean casual. /cdn.vox-cdn.com/uploads/chorus_asset/file/23410052/GettyImages_1161458535.jpg) The Washington Post/Getty Images What to know before you goPasty Fest: You'll find pasties all over the UP, but head to the city of Calumet for the ultimate celebration of the stuffed pastry each summer. Events include a parade and pasty-eating contest, and lots of local businesses show up each year to sell their own renditions. Friday fish fry: Catholic immigrants started the long-standing tradition of Friday fish fries in the UP. Today you can still find a good fish fry at many churches, but you'll also see them at bars and restaurants all over the peninsula. Local fish is on offer, generally including perch, whitefish, or walleye. Expect the fish to come on either soft white rolls or rye, with butter, coleslaw, french fries, and lemon wedges. North and south shores: The north side of the peninsula along Lake Superior contains some of the UP's most popular spots, like Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore, Tahquamenon Falls State Park, and Paradise on Whitefish Bay. The southern shorelines of the UP run across Lake Michigan and are generally flatter and calmer. Garden Peninsula: You'll find a handful of wineries in what looks like a completely inhospitable environment on this strip of land that juts out into Lake Michigan. Winter in the UP: Many places close up shop in the winter months when tourism dips. If you do decide to visit off-season, double-check the hotels and restaurants you want to visit will be open. Wild rice: Native to the Great Lakes region, manoomin (wild rice in Anishinaabemowin, or the Ojibwe language) was a staple food for the Indigenous population. Most of the rice has disappeared as loggers dammed up rivers to transport logs to sawmills, killing the rice in river and lake beds. With help from state funding, Anishinaabe harvesters have begun to reseed areas, including the UP, where wild rice had previously grown. Most of the rice is not available yet commercially as efforts are made to increase production, but you may see wild rice on some menus. Foraging: In Michigan, and especially in the UP, foraging on public lands is not only legal but widely accepted. Morel mushrooms and wild berries of all varieties are the most common finds. /cdn.vox-cdn.com/uploads/chorus_asset/file/23410089/KML_Bean_Soup_202201.jpeg) Keweenaw Mountain Lodge Where to eatMarquette: At 20,000 people, Marquette is the UP's biggest city, and home to the largest college in the area (Northern Michigan University), which has attracted a diverse range of restaurants. Head to Vango's for a cudighi, the beloved spicy Italian sausage sandwich, stop at Thill's Fish House on Lake Superior for smoked whitefish, or pick up a classic pasty from Jean Kay's Pasties where they're made with flank steak and potatoes just like a Yooper grandma would make them. Lagniappe Cajun Creole Eatery might be one of the more surprising options, but a bowl of gumbo on a cold Michigan night hits the spot. The tiny Rice Paddy has been a part of the community for 30 years serving Thai dishes (for takeout only). For dinner, the Delft Bistro offers some respite from meat-heavy dishes featured on other menus around town, with cherry beet bruschetta, kale salads, and bulgur meatballs with pickled vegetables in pita. Or try Casa Calabria for Italian sodas and lasagna. Keweenaw Peninsula: The expansive landmass that juts directly into Lake Superior is dotted with small restaurants. Jamsen's Fish Market, which sits right on the water in Copper Harbor, is a must-stop for doughnuts with wild thimbleberry frosting and wild berry turnovers. Cash-only food truck Captain Matt's Fish and Chips serves some of the best fish tacos made with fried Lake Superior whitefish, and you can bring your tacos over to enjoy with a beer at Brickside Brewery next door. For a sunset dinner there are two fine dining options nearby. One is the Harbor Haus, where the kitchen infuses local fish, vegetables, and berries with German and Austrian style. The other is Fitzgerald's, where you can play it two ways: Sit inside with a cocktail, hardwood-smoked brisket or pulled pork, and pickled vegetables, or grab a smash burger with basil burger sauce and a slice of the daily pie to enjoy on their deck overlooking the lake. Houghton and Hancock are the largest cities in the Keweenaw, and both have strong ties to the Finnish immigrants who settled in the area. Kaleva Cafe in Hancock is the place to be Saturday for their Finnish pannukakku pancakes. The Ambassador is a popular haunt for great pizza and massive fishbowl cocktails, which come in reusable copper fishbowl mugs. Roy's Pasties & Bakery serves untraditional pasties in flavors like turkey with cranberry or pizza, as well as vegan renditions — just don't let the pasty purists hear you. And a visit to the taproom at the UP's largest brewer, Keweenaw Brewing Company, will only set you back $3. Sault Ste. Marie: Michigan's oldest city, pronounced "Soo Saint Marie," is located at the gateway between the Upper Peninsula and Ontario, Canada (the city continues across the border by the same name). It attracts tourists to the Soo Locks that connect Lake Superior to the St. Marys River, which were pivotal to opening up shipping lanes between the Great Lakes. Get a glimpse and a meal at Goetz's Lockview Restaurant, opened in the 1960s, which serves diner classics for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, including the popular fried whitefish. Don't let rumors that the Antlers is haunted deter you from visiting for hefty burgers, among other laid-back American fare. For something a little modern, visit the Wicked Sister, a bar and restaurant with plenty of catchy menu items, like their "4% Club" salads or gluten-free Smother in Law sandwich. Escanaba: After a visit to a local winery — like Leigh's Garden Winery for seasonal wines with a distinctive UP flare or Northern Sun Winery for fruit wine — join the line out the door at the Swedish Pantry for Swedish pancakes with lingonberries. Or cool off with soft serve at Jim's Dari Kreme, especially with the blue moon flavor, an enigmatic Michigan specialty that hovers somewhere between citrus-tinged vanilla and almond. For lunch or dinner, seek out fine dining at the Stonehouse, where excellent choices include the Great Lakes platter, featuring fish fresh from the local waters, and the duck with wild rice. /cdn.vox-cdn.com/uploads/chorus_asset/file/23410097/20210216_200443.jpg) Wicked Sister Paradise: In a throwback to the UP's logging days, Tahquamenon Falls Brewery & Pub is fashioned after a logging camp and the head brewmaster is the granddaughter of the original founder. After a few rounds, there are few things better than fried local whitefish at Brown Fisheries Fish House. Elsewhere around the peninsula: If you're crossing Route 41, stop by the Hilltop in L'Anse for giant cinnamon rolls that tip the scale at over a pound each. Hardwood Steakhouse in Covington grills a great steak, and you just might see a moose as you enjoy your meal. Moofinfries in Naubinway has burgers (moo), fish (fin), and fries that will make everyone in your group happy. Budding chefs training at Les Cheneaux Culinary School in Hessel forage for local ingredients to prepare special dinners for New Year's and in the summer months. Riverside Pizzeria in Iron River turns out excellent cracker-crust pizza. The Up North Lodge in Gwinn started out selling hot dogs and hot chocolate in the '60s, but has since become "almost world famous" for their signature barbecue. Where to stock upIn summer months you can easily find small farmers markets and pop-up roadside stands throughout the UP. Among the fresh-picked wild berries, look out for the famous thimbleberry, which looks like a raspberry but promises much more flavor. For the most distinctive thimbleberry jam, head to the Jampot near Eagle River, which is run by the monks of the Poorrock Abbey, a Byzantine Catholic monastery set in the solitude of the woods. Michigan maple syrup, usually made on small, family-owned operations, is another must. Mackinac Bluffs Maple Farms in the eastern UP has produced all-natural organic syrup since 2011 through sustainable practices in their sugarbush. Other local brands to look for include Danielson's, Jasper's, and Willis Family Maple. Chaga mushrooms are another regional specialty. Grown on birch trees, the mushrooms have long been used as traditional medicine. Fill your pantry (or medicine cabinet) at Superior Chaga and UP Chaga Connection. /cdn.vox-cdn.com/uploads/chorus_asset/file/23410015/GettyImages_671299968.jpg) Jeffrey Greenberg/Universal Images Group via Getty Images /cdn.vox-cdn.com/uploads/chorus_asset/file/23409955/GettyImages_671346992.jpg) Jeffrey Greenberg/Universal Images Group via Getty Images Where to stayThe Milkweed Inn is the brainchild of chef Iliana Regan, former chef and owner of Michelin-starred Elizabeth in Chicago, and wife Anna Hamlin. Guests are housed in a combination of rustic glamping tents and cabins, and all meals are provided, with a focus on local, foraged foods. A weekend stay comes with a steep price tag, reservation hunters have to watch the inn's Instagram like hawks for posts about openings, and the place is booked straight through 2022 and summer 2023 — but if you need the hottest ticket in town, this is the place. Rates start at $2,000 for a weekend. The Vault in Houghton is a boutique hotel in the renovated Houghton National Bank. The building dates from 1887 but has completely modern amenities. After cozying up in your room, slip into the basement counting room where the Speakeasy awaits with their craft cocktail menu. Rooms start at $220 a night. Built as a WPA worksite in the Great Depression, the Keweenaw Mountain Lodge was restored in 2018. The 24 private cabins are spread across the property, with one, two, or three bedrooms. The main lodge serves as the central point of the complex, and it houses the on-site restaurant, which reflects the remote setting with a slow-dining approach to rustic fare sourced locally as much as possible. Cabins start at $190 per night. Nature lovers seeking a simpler option should book a yurt at Paddler's Village in Munising, a modern campground with a small restaurant that serves hot dogs and pizza. Better yet, cook up something special at your campsite for a true UP outdoor experience. Tents start at $150 while yurts that sleep five start at $195. Amanda Ponzio Mouttaki is a freelance writer and blogger who grew up in the UP but now calls Marrakech, Morocco, home. She loves traveling around the world to find delicious local food and will never turn down a meal made by a grandma. |
| A Lobster Curry Recipe Made for Solace and Sustenance Posted: 28 Apr 2022 07:00 AM PDT  In the whitest state in America, learning there's no "right" way to eat lobster I grew up in a Gujarati family in Zimbabwe. As an immigrant, I've always struggled to feel at home in the U.S., but never more so than last year when my husband and I moved to Maine, the whitest state in the country. Mainers call people who aren't born in the state "from away." At first, I found this endearing. But soon, I realized that no matter how long I lived here I would always be from away — unlike my husband, whose pale face and blond hair allowed him to pass as local. Knowing the solace I find in food, my husband promised that lobster would be the salve for my isolation. In the summer of 2021, lobster roll prices peaked throughout New England. It was normal to spend $34 on a single roll. Still, on a humid weekend spent unpacking our new house, I insisted we treat ourselves. The rolls looked decadent: pillowy, buttered buns hugged generous piles of cool, creamy lobster meat. On the first bite, I closed my eyes, waiting for the delicate blandness to give way to an explosion of flavor. But soon, the lobster roll vanished. I found myself unceremoniously using my finger to wipe up flecks of mayonnaise from the plate. The explosion never came. Undeterred, I tried lobster every way I could find it. Doused in butter. Boiled with corn. Coated thickly and thinly with mayonnaise. I sensed a hint of magic each time, but it was always fleeting. I felt guilty that I wasn't enjoying it as much as everyone else was. After several months in Maine, I developed a nagging sense that lobster would taste better (to me) if it were curried. When I was growing up, my family would haul seafood from Mozambique; we curried crabs, langoustines, and crayfish. The tang of tamarind unlocked layers of flavor that lemon juice couldn't. But I was embarrassed to ask Mainers about the idea: I still remembered the cringe I felt as a kid when my father would take out his own hot sauce at a French restaurant and slather a delicate, buttery sole meunière with his spicy elixir. Locals insisted that lobster had to be eaten with minimal added ingredients so as not to overpower its subtlety. I felt déclassé for even considering otherwise. Once, I'd ordered a lobster roll with butter (Connecticut style) rather than mayonnaise (Maine style). "This isn't Boston," said the woman behind the counter. "We don't make that nonsense here." Can you imagine if I had asked her, "Enough to make lobster curry for four, please?" Eventually, though, I couldn't help myself. Over Skype with my mother in Zimbabwe, I spent hours developing a curry sauce tempered with fresh curry leaves, coconut, and mustard seeds — flavors our family borrowed from the coastal towns of Kerala. The trick with the tempering (or vagaar) is to wait until the mustard seeds pop and little wisps of smoke appear above the oil; add the onions before the spices burn. Recently, I served the curry to four white American guests. Two were born-and-raised Mainers who worked in local politics. I was nervous as I watched them figure it out. At first, they were gentle, using silver spoons to swirl the garlicky tamarind broth — a perfect balance to the sweetness of the meat and brine of the ocean. I grabbed a claw cracker and felt the stiff shell give way in my hands. Creamy curry dribbled onto my right hand and halfway down my arm. I remembered my grandfather in Zimbabwe who would eat dal with such gusto that he would lick his arm from elbow to wrist. I used a napkin. Soon, our guests followed suit. All you could hear at the table was cracking, slurping, clinking of wine glasses. As I watched a fresh tablecloth become destroyed, I realized that this was an intimate experience. To enjoy this meal, we needed to leave Western ideas of dinner table propriety at the door and revel in the raunch of it all. It made me laugh more deeply than I had since we moved to Maine; I finally felt at home in my own house. I hadn't realized just how much our guests were enjoying themselves until Nicole, whose family has lived in Maine for generations, saw me struggling with the carapace of a tail. Without asking, she reached over and grabbed the tail out of my hands. With a swift wringing motion, she gripped it and twisted her fists in opposite directions. As the shell fell away, brown curry sauce spurted across the table and trickled through her fingers. A morsel of white meat coated in a brilliant orange mottle plopped into my bowl and splattered my bib with sauce. "There we go," she said. "That's how you eat lobster curry." Lobster Curry RecipeServes 4 Ingredients:2 fresh lobsters For the vagaar: 2 tablespoons vegetable or canola oil For the curry: ½ can chopped tomatoes, liquidized in a food processor For the garnish: ½ cup chopped fresh cilantro leaves Instructions:Step 1: After humanely killing the lobsters (assuming you're using live ones), cut them each into four pieces: head, claws, and tail. Set aside. Step 2: Make the vagaar: Heat the oil in a large pot set over high heat. Once the oil is hot, add the coconut, curry leaves, mustard seeds, red chile, and ginger. Do not let the spices burn. Once the mustard seeds pop, add the chopped onions and turn the heat down to low. Cook until the onions are translucent and just turning golden — do not brown or caramelize them. Step 3: Now, you can make the curry: To the onions, add the tomatoes, stock, and 3 cups of water. Stir, then add the garlic, garam masala, coriander-cumin powder, red chile powder, turmeric, salt, and cilantro stems. Simmer until the sauce thickens to the consistency of cake batter. Step 4: To the thick sauce add the lobster, tamarind paste, sugar, and enough water (2-3 cups) to cover the lobster at least halfway. Bring to a boil for 15 minutes, stirring occasionally and turning the lobster pieces over so that the sauce seeps into the crevices of the lobster shell and thickens again to a gravy consistency. Step 5: Once the sauce has thickened, add the coconut milk and bring to a boil once more. Step 6: Garnish the lobster with the chopped cilantro leaves. Serve it piping hot with fresh sourdough or basmati rice and a lemon wedge for each guest to squeeze. (The squeeze of lemon at the end is crucial, but it's nice to let guests do it themselves.) *Note: Also known as dhaniya jeera, coriander-cumin powder can be either purchased or made at home. Khameer Kidia is a Zimbabwean writer and physician. His essays have been published in venues such as Slate, Los Angeles Review of Books, New England Journal of Medicine, and the Yale Review. You can find him on Twitter @kkidia. |
| Hot Cross Buns Have Finally Made It in America Posted: 28 Apr 2022 06:30 AM PDT  This Easter, the British baked good was everywhere There used to be a time, not that long ago, when a hot cross bun was a relative mystery or even a practical unknown to Americans. Much like Italian panettone during the winter holidays, the semi-sweet, single-serving bread seemed like something only members of the British Isles and the larger Commonwealth enjoyed during the Easter holidays, if it was acknowledged or recognized at all. This year, though, during the month of April in the U.S., hot cross buns were everywhere, made by bakeries across the country, and celebrated for their divine flavor and unique contribution to Easter celebrations. Finally, after decades of mystery, hot cross buns seemed to have crossed over. What is a hot cross bun? It's an enriched yeasted bread made with warming spices, dried fruit, and a little bit of sugar. Slightly sweeter than a dinner roll, the individual buns are mild and great for breakfast, toasted and slathered with butter. They are traditionally eaten on Good Friday following Easter as a way to signify the end of Lent. But the most important detail of all is that hot cross buns must feature a cross on top, made from a paste of flour and water, an approach that was meant to represent the Crucifixion, but is now largely devoid of religious meaning if that's not your bag. It just looks right, and a hot cross bun would not be a hot cross bun without it. In some places, this cross is made with a confectioners' sugar mixture, but that may raise some eyebrows among purists. In the U.K. during Easter, hot cross buns are all over. (And if you're lucky, you'll see them everywhere all year round, too.) But in 2022, it felt like something changed, and they were landed triumphantly in America, too. Bakeries and businesses like Frenchette in New York, King Arthur Baking, NYT Cooking, Ravelin Bakery in Denton, Texas, Fork restaurant in Philly, Baddie Nattie Bakes in Fountain View, CA, and many more joined in promoting their approaches to the traditional British baked good. Carla Finley, the baker and owner of Apt. 2 Bread, sold hot cross buns this year through Prospect Butcher Co. in Brooklyn. "I made them last year for the butcher shop simply because they asked me to and I was like... hm, okay!" Finley says, a little perplexed by the request. "It wasn't until they asked me to do them in 2022 that I noticed other bakeries were doing them." It dawned on Finley this spring that hot cross buns had suddenly become a thing; over Easter weekend this year, she quickly sold out of all her 100 percent sourdough, not too sweet, perfectly flaky and spiced spiced buns. "People love them," she says. Though the baked goods have taken off in the U.S., some think there may still be a ways to go for some bakeries to replicate the traditional British style — but then the possibilities are endless. "Now I see them in the supermarkets here, I see them in bakeries. A lot of times what I see, at least in the U.S., are buns that feel like brioche," Genevieve Ko, deputy editor of NYT Cooking, says in a recipe video published in the middle of April on the NYT Cooking channel. "The hot cross buns I remember first having in England were much more like buns. Stretchy dough, chewy buns. They were a little sweet, but they weren't super sweet." Once bakeries in America nail the recipe, the hope is that it's possible that hot cross buns will not only cross over for Easter — but for holidays all year round. The flavor is mild enough, the potential preparations versatile enough, and the cross element technically applicable all year round (right…) that a hot cross bun is actually a pretty great breakfast option no matter the season or occasion. "[It's] definitely an Easter trend," Finley says about her hot cross buns, but with enough demand, "I would consider doing them on other holidays as well." A pastry case filled year-round with croissants, banana bread slices, and hot cross buns? Now that would be worth believing in. |
| Eater Lands Multiple Nominations for 2022 James Beard Media Awards Posted: 27 Apr 2022 01:37 PM PDT  From video to audio to distinguished writing, Eater is recognized across several media categories The James Beard Foundation announced the nominees for the 2022 Media Awards today, and Eater is nominated across multiple categories, from video to feature writing to audio. Eater's award-winning video team received a nod in the category of Visual Media — Short Form for an in-depth look at salt harvesting in Senegal's Lake Retba. Workers wade through one of the saltiest bodies of water in the world to collect 60,000 metric tons of salt per year, a strenuous process that Eater captured on camera for over 11 million viewers (and counting). For writing, contributor Ahmed Ali Akbar's report on "the world's greatest mangoes" (and the bootleg WhatsApp operation to bring them to the U.S.) was nominated in the Feature Writing category. In the Foodways category, two Eater pieces got nods: contributor James Bennett II's historical look at beer in Black culture and history, from the significance of beer in pre-colonial West African social life to the craft brew industry's neglect of the Black America in marketing; and Trisha Gopal's celebration of the many immigrant-owned restaurants and street vendors tucked away behind gas stations across the U.S. In the MFK Fisher Distinguished Writing Award category, contributor Hannah Selinger's intimate account of reading David Chang's memoir Eat a Peach was nominated. And Eater LA's very own Mona Holmes was recognized in the Jonathan Gold Local Voice Award category for her reporting across the diverse, widespread Los Angeles food scene, including pieces on the uncertain future of downtown LA's food scene; the best grocery store fried chicken in the city; and a deeply personal perspective on Los Angeles's Black barbecue. In addition to the six editorial nominations, Gastropod, the award-winning food podcast that joined Eater in 2021, was recognized with a nomination for Audio Programming. Punch, Eater's "sister publication" covering the world of bars, spirits, and drinking culture, was nominated in the Personal Essay, Long Form category, for contributor Miguel De Leon's look at the colonial practices of winemaking and the spirit of imperialism that continues to obscure the experience of wine today. Vox Media was also recognized for branded content in the Commercial/Sponsored Visual Media category, for a video series On the Rise with Marcus Samuelsson, created with Uber Eats and airing on Eater. And for books, Punch founder and editor-in-chief Talia Baiocchi received a Restaurant and Professionals nomination for her book with Missy Robbins, Pasta: The Spirit and Craft of Italy's Greatest Food. Check out all of Vox Media's 2022 James Beard Media Awards nominations here. |
| You are subscribed to email updates from Eater - All. To stop receiving these emails, you may unsubscribe now. | Email delivery powered by Google |
| Google, 1600 Amphitheatre Parkway, Mountain View, CA 94043, United States | |
No comments:
Post a Comment