American Hunger

Putter patter putter tonight in the kitchen, making a thick and speckled soup. Potatoes from Tantre Farm were on sale a couple weeks back, and of course many were still lounging in their private drawer, sprouting leggy new parts. Oh these morphing vegetables must be used before they walk out of my drawer and into a fighting match with the carrots. After shopping for a cabbage to include in this wintery soup, and restocking our supply of caraway seeds that unabashedly went MIA, I brewed a pot of tea and made this really comforting soup. Some fresh and crusty bread from an Ann Arbor bakery lay in wait, crumbs pouring forth from the paper bag as though ready to be scooped into an utter, soupy destiny.

That was tonight. But two weeks ago things felt a little different.

I was in Chicago, spending a week in a room with a lot of people agreeing to spend a year volunteering, earning wages from the government as a stipend based on the local poverty line. Most local poverty lines lay between the $12-13,000 a year range. I was one of those people preparing for a year of volunteer service. Being that so many of those gathered were from Michigan, a state whose failing businesses are begging for some sort of relief from the government, you can imagine that many of these people were accepting this volunteer year because it provided them with more than they currently earned. The days were fairly intense, the entire group being divided into sections of 30 people, all of which have personal stories of poverty to some degree or in some fashion.

The first day our facilitator gathered us in a circle, dark faces and light faces, thick accents and thin, and presented us with the questions: “What is poverty?” & “What causes poverty?”. Maybe stop for a second. Think about what comes to your mind. As a person in the country where you exist, what does poverty mean? I’ve seen poverty in a third world nation and I’ve seen poverty in East St Louis, in Detroit, in Omaha, so many American towns. I didn’t like seeing the repercussions of poverty, either. As the passing of thoughts circled in that room, I listened to lots of single women, many with multiple children, discuss what it’s like not knowing where their family’s food, clothes, books will come from. It affected me, not being at a level where I was there to help those in this group, but being a part of the group. Often I have found myself in positions where I am there to aid, help, teach, fight injustices. But then, there I was, with people choosing a similar path, many who were deeply and authentically experiencing poverty. Together we discussed this nation that has so many discrepancies with health, with hunger, with obesity, with malnutrition, with diet-based diseases, with poverty.

Tonight there was an NPR On Point program about hunger in America. Joel Berg, the executive director of the NYC Coalition Against Hunger, fielded discussion about hunger, subsidies, food banks, food stamps, and many economic issues that hover around food. It was satisfying for me to hear this while being in the depths of thoughts on hunger and poverty. My present week has been spent studying outreach, gardening, and preparing to lessen the divide for access to healthy food. The radio show was distressing, as they often can be, listening to the statistics on depleting food banks, lines of people that are turned away from food banks, and the increasing health issues that are arriving daily on our neighbors doorsteps due to a lack of understanding, education, and/or access to healthy food. However! There are a few counter thoughts to dwell on: 1) Joel Berg ended the show saying, “The Economic Stimulus Package signed into law by President Obama on January 21st of next year can have a serious down payment on ending hunger in America." So that’s a possibility. And, 2) the research I have been doing surrounding my new position as Ypsilanti’s Farmers’ Market Manager is really quite positive, the statistics all returning to increasing numbers of vendors and customers, increasing sales, and an increasing usage of food stamps and other low-income food coupons.

I live in a vibrant community that is full of opportunities for local, fresh, healthy food. There are nearby restaurants that create menus based on that philosophy. I have at least six stores in walking distance where I can by high quality groceries and produce. This is not the norm. On the other hand, low-income neighborhoods are more likely to live in a food desert where the candle lit dinner is accompanied by a two liter bottle of soda and a bag of chips that came from the corner gas station. It’s not really fair, this creamy potato soup I ate for dinner tonight. Well, maybe it is fair that I ate that soup, and it’s even okay that I relished the time spent making it. But it’s not really fair that so many others don’t have that chance to be hugged by their very own kitchen. Food and its preparation is a given right to all life. And I think good food, whole and free of preservatives, should be included in that right.

It’s a good thing that the Farmers’ Market phenomenon is growing! And people can use food stamps at growing numbers of them! And that small farmers are fighting for their rights! And that we understand the connection between diet and obesity and so many diseases…. Things will be okay. We just need to watch out for each other. I think we can do that. It’s pretty natural.

NY Times Article with a title I found to be strange and, um, disconnected

Great Meals for Two, Under $100 (It’s Possible)

I haven't even begun to get past the title of this article. Maybe it will shock me with some grassroots thesis. But unfortunately, it probably will just isolate me even further in my fight with DHS for foodstamps, but remind me how worthwhile our "expensive" and delicious our homemade Indian meal last night was, cooked for a friend's birthday. What a weird thing to say, surprised by good food under $100.

Josh wrote a(n) Haiku

He is so sweet, that husband of mine. He wrote his very first Haiku in honor of a new start to the winter. He is committed to writing one a day for brain stimulation. I do love striving to hold true to ideals these days.


her day begins now

no time to spark remember

her revolution

oh, what a day.

And it all ended with my eyes closed and breathing rythmic... sleep sleep sleep come to me. I must go to bed, but before the inevitable crashing of my bones, I want to relay a wonderful soup recipe that Josh prepared last night to eat today. Also I must elatedly bombard you with this really exciting news:

We are now partial owners of a really beautiful red jersey cow!!! Josh was able to meet her today while I started my first day at my new job as Farmer's Market Manager in Ypsilanti. I've been reading and dreaming and wondering over raw milk for many months, almost reaching the category of years, and finally the desire crossed paths with reality.

So here are the three things I think you must know about the good life of cold December Michigan....
1) this recipe, Coriander Orange-Scented Red Lentil Soup, that Josh overheard on the Splendid Table (NPR) and then made for dinner. It's really quick, really easy, and perfect for sweet and spicy teeth.
2) this delicious raw milk, more descriptions to ensue
3) the new workplace at a non-profit called Growing Hope, with more info to come hopefully sooner than later

Homemade Waffles Finally Make a Post

Waffles are an almost weekly shindig in our house these days. We've made so many varieties that I can't keep them straight; whole wheat with dried coconut, standard wheat with blueberry, and our favorite cheddar and bacon blend. I can't believe how many house guests we have served our cheddar and bacon waffles to with bacon on the side, validating their breakfast with an explanation of the wheat and flax added to the mix. They always say something like, why not? We are on vacation, right? And I always find some kind of sick glee in feeding so many delicious calories to those I love so early in the day. I feel like I'm introducing them to long lost guilty pleasures, doing them some kind of favor.

But today we made perfectly guilt-free buckwheat waffles (topped with honey butter and sunflower seeds). They were hearty, filling, and wholesome. No battered house guests questioning their dietary worth today. Michelle came by for breakfast and we leisurely enjoyed trapping the cold outside, sipping strong french press coffee, snacking on pomegranate seeds, biting into our honey butter slathered waffles. I always seem to burn the last waffle in the iron, forgetting that it's in there while I relax with my plate of syrupy or buttery waffle and some good morning conversation.

Just a little warning, you do need to start the batter the night before, but that makes breakfast itself just that much easier in the morning.



Buckwheat Waffles

1 pkt yeast
1/4 cup hot water (100 to 110 degrees)
2 tbl honey plus
1/3 cup honey
2 cup buttermilk
1 tbl oil
1 cup flour
1 1/4 cup buckwheat flour
1 1/8 tsp salt divided
1/2 cup butter softened
2 eggs lightly beaten
1/4 tsp baking soda
1/4 cup toasted sunflower seeds

Sprinkle the yeast over the water and stir until the yeast is completely dissolved. Let it stand until bubbles begin to form. Stir in 2 tablespoons honey, the buttermilk and oil.

Combine the cake flour, buckwheat flour and 1 teaspoon salt. Stir in the yeast mixture just until blended. Cover and refrigerate overnight.

For the honey butter, combine the softened butter, one-third cup honey and one-eighth teaspoon salt. Cover and set aside until ready to serve.

One-half hour before cooking the waffles, remove the batter from the refrigerator and let it stand at room temperature. Then stir in the beaten eggs and baking soda. Combine thoroughly.

Make your waffles in the iron, then spoon the honey butter over hot waffles and sprinkle with sunflower seeds.

This recipe, found at the site "Food Down Under", yields 6 to 8 servings.

Cranberry Bean, Lacinato Kale and Pasta Soup

It's true that I stalk the blog, Wednesday Chef, and have written many a post about a recipe that she has documented and I have tried. This week I tried her Cranberry Bean, Lacinato Kale and Pasta Soup that she found in an article written by Amy Scattergood of the LA Times. This soup made me feel normal after a week of eating (and drinking) at the pub. I spent a lazy afternoon preparing it, knowing full well that I still had a 10 hour shift that I was going to have to go in for early evening.



The soup was finished just in time for me to slap it in a big ball jar, layered and beautiful, and run out the door leaving a pile of worthy dishes. It was as though I left the dishes there to tell a story in case I never returned. Nonetheless, I returned home to piles of dishes at 3am, the story left untold. Josh and I did the dishes together in the morning, neither of us once regretting the soup or its efforts.



The soup works in layers, the broth being some vegetables and beans that boil for almost two hours complacently on your stove until the beans are tender. These go into a bowl along with a handful of al dente cooked chunky pasta, topped with a bean blend, similar to hummus, that works as a thickener. Stir it up in your bowl and finish it with a sprinkle or downpour of parmesan cheese, whatever you prefer.

Raw Goodness

We made a stop by the library yesterday to return some overdue videos. We decided to embrace the cold and walk. I always leave the library with twice what I've just returned, and yesterday was no different. Here we were, bundled against the cold, gritting our lips together, cradling 8 books a piece. It was a silly struggle but so worth it. One of the books I brought home was a Jamie Oliver cookbook called Jamie's Kitchen. I don't know a whole lot about him seeing as we don't own a TV and therefore miss all Food Network shows, but from what I've read I like him. This book is also the name of his non-profit restaurant in London that brought in 15 London kids to learn about food and cooking.

I only made it through the first 30 or so pages before I was hungry and ready to make food. Watch out. No cream or bacon in this recipe. This recipe consists of a bunch of raw foods, all perfect right now in November, that are tossed together like notes in a song that all come together. We made plain couscous to eat with it, fried some haloumi cheese, and had roasted chicken on the side. They mingled and met and all really liked each other on our plate. We barely looked at each other as we ate, Josh and I. We were too enamored with how something so simple and raw could be so good.



Here it is, adapted from Jamie Oliver's book:

moorish crunch salad

Finely slice into matchsticks 1 1/2 c. carrots, slice thinly 6-8 radishes and 2 small or 1 large crunchy apple. Put these into a medium to large bowl and add:
+some raisins (I used golden)
+handful of fresh parsley chopped (freshly frozen in our garden and retrieved not a moment too soon!)
+handful of fresh mint chopped (also freshly frozen in our garden!)
+3 TB red wine or sherry vinegar
+6-8 TB olive oil (I used the lesser amount)
+1 TB tahini
sea salt and freshly ground black pepper (I'm just realizing that I forgot this in ours!!! And it was still so good....)
Toss like happy friends on the playground, and then add some toasted sesame seeds sprinkled on the top, about 2 TB.

Like I mentioned above, halloumi cheese fried and eaten in conjunction is just such a treat. And maybe why we didn't exactly need salt on the salad. Jamie Oliver suggests this with some chili sauce also. Maybe we'll try that with our leftovers tonight.

Another vegan recipe to come! But the next one is cooked, a soup smooth and sultry for your winter palate.... I've obsessively been thinking about it since it was made. This is the kind of food that makes me find a reason to appreciate winter. yum.

The Stalk of the Sprout

There are few vegetables that grow in a more suspicious way than the brussel sprout. This seemingly under represented and less than appreciated vegetable grows up a hefty stalk, bundled in bunches that look as though they are homely sorts trying to orderly stay with their respective members. I've seen brussels sprouts as of recently sold in stores on the stalk. They are so regimented and controlled, patiently awaiting the delicious future they hold. Shoppers pick these up and examine them, surprised and unsure if they really know what these green round orbits are. FYI, nutritionally Brussels Sprouts are an excellent source of vitamin C, vitamin D, folic acid and dietary fiber that found their original popularity in Belgium.

Last night Josh and I went to a phenomenal fundraiser and gathering for a non-profit called Avalon Housing. A family volunteered their personal home for the gathering, and food from gourmet spots all over town filled each and every room. We tasted and toasted to all things good and delicious. Brussels sprouts hailed an interesting position as design accents, placed within lanterns as decoration. My favorite bit of food was a round platter with a scoop of butter sat in the middle. The platter held an assortment of home cured meat, each piece almost bowing to the throne of butter in the center.

One night last week before we headed out for an evening with friends we made a scrumptious fettucine with brussels sprouts sauce. This meal would have probably been better on a night where we planned to hole up and stay in under blankets with a movie. We were sleepy after the heaviness settled contently in our bellies. But it's a pretty simple and quick recipe that fits this season with its daunting chill. It hints spiciness with horseradish and dijon mustard accenting the flavors of cream and bacon. This will make 4-6 servings and comes from a really great and rustic sort of Vermont book, From the Cook's Garden.

1 1/2 pints Brussels sprouts, roots trimmed and outer discolored leaves discarded
4 TB unsalted butter
2 TB olive oil
1/2 cup pancetta (we just used bacon)
1 large onion, finely chopped
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 roasted red pepper, seeded and chopped
2 cups packed spinach leaves
1 1/2 cups shredded sharp cheddar
1 cup half-and-half
1/2 cup freshly grated parmesan
1 TB Dijon mustard
2 tsp freshly grated or prepared horseradish
2 TB finely chopped dill (optional)
1 tsp dried tarragon
Salt and pepper to taste
1 pound fettucine

Bring medium saucepan of salted water to a boil. Cut a shallow X in bottom of each sprout for even cooking, and cut largest ones in half lengthwise. Add the sprouts to the water and cook for 6-8 minutes until tender. Remove with a slotted spoon and save the water for the pasta.

Melt 2 TB of butter with the oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add the pancetta or bacon and cook until lightly browned, about 3-5 minutes. Add the onion and garlic, cook and stir often until onions soften, about 5 minutes. Stir in the roasted pepper and spinach, cooking until spinach wilts about 2 minutes. Add the sprouts, cheddar, half-and-half, parmesan, mustard, dill, horseradish, and tarragon, stirring to melt the cheese. Season with salt and pepper. Remove from the heat and cover to keep warm.

Meanwhile, cook fettucine in saved pot of water until just tender. Drain, return to pot, toss with remaining 2 TB of butter. Section pasta into separate bowls and top with sauce.
Makes 4-6 servings.

It's here! Election Day!

To celebrate the day, Josh and I had Roos Roast coffee to start off the morning. We love the paper bags our roasted beans come in, printed with authentic art, the beans freshly roasted. Saturday we treated ourselves at the farmer's market to a half pound bag and a fresh cup of lobster butter roasted coffee. The coffee we drank from the cup had been brewed cowboy style, boiled in water and then strained from the top. John, the roaster of Roos, is an interesting and somewhat addicting guy, his pores seeping from either a severely optimistic mindset or a lot of coffee. I would wage on the coffee side of things. We love this business. It's so local, you know?

So we voted today. Our lines were about one hour and it was phenomenally satisfying. Marking in our presidential candidate with a solid black oval made my lungs fill with pure Ann Arbor oxygen. Tonight I have the privilege of bartending my last real bartending shift at the pub. We are bringing in many tv's for the results, and voters from all over will be coming in to the watch. It's almost the way things are supposed to be, finishing my unexpected career at a bar, heading into the late fall with new beginnings, personal and political. I'm ready. I really think I'm ready. Speaking of... I'm running really late! Here we go, stepping into an emotional night! It's really here.

Contemporary Art Institute in Detroit

We receive emails from CAID, the Contemporary Art Institute in Detroit. They do a lot of work within and for the city of Detroit. The ideas that they produce are inspiring and inventive, crossing the boundaries of social issues in Detroit and using fine art to better its surrounding civilization. Here is one such email that we received this week that is a curatorial statement from a past show called Shelter. This copied in its entirety from the email sent by CAID.

How can you expect a man who's warm to understand a man who's cold?
-Alexandr Solzhenitsyn

One Day In The Life Of Ivan Denisovich

In the early pages of Solzhenitsyn's signature work we get a palpably bone chilling description of the gap between those who experience and expect comfort and those who do not. The problem is simply and starkly stated. The gap is one of understanding. The out side temperature is 17 degrees, Ivan's is 99 - not enough to get him a work release for the day -- a decision made by the man sitting comfortably behind a typewriter who thinks Ivan is a slacker.

First comes understanding then comes solutions.

No, that's not right.

First comes experience then comes understanding then comes compassion then comes the attempt to find solutions.

The poor you always have with you.

Until we understand.

We are the poor.

I wish there was a requirement that anyone aspiring to become an elected political official would have to spend at least four years living below the poverty level (college would not count)

I wish those aspiring to the Priesthood or the Ministry or the position of Rabbi or Mullah would actually have to spend at least two years raising sheep. (Mohammed said that no one could be a prophet if they were not first a shepherd.) If they spent all night delivering lambs in the minus10 degree temperatures of February they would understand what it's like to have cold so deeply rooted in their bones that they couldn't get warm enough to fall asleep. (Preferably, this requirement would take place in Michigan)

And for every lamb lost they would experience grief and guilt beyond their imagining without the sound of rifles or bombs.

(Ok, this should be a requirement for politicians as well.)

I wish those in need would have shovels. There is no tool that gives a person such a sense of power.

A garden is power (even if a house is cardboard) and potatoes are easy to cook.

But what do I know?

I am (when all is said and done) a stonecutter, a shepherd, the father of seven children, the maker of hundreds of dollars a year, the builder of my own house, a man sitting uncomfortably cold behind his computer, writing.

Shoveling,
Shoveling,
Shoveling.

Seeking potatoes.

In the course of putting this exhibition together, I had the amazing realization that "shelter" is a noun and a verb - the measure of our humanity and culture.

Hugh Timlin, Shelter Exhibition Juror
September, 2006