this might be considered jumping the gun a bit, but i can't wait anymore....

issue five of meatpaper is on its way out, and my piece on bill and nicolette niman is (i think) the first article in there!!!

i was totally scooped by kim severson, even though i'd already turned in my piece long before, but the turnaround with magazines is a lot longer than papers. plus, i'm not really upset at all, since we got to be in the NYT!

i wish i could adequately convey the depth and breadth of my respect and admiration for bill and nicolette niman. but i can't. they have given me so much to think about, and taught me so much. there is no one else who has done anything for the meat industry that can come close to rivaling what bill has done over the last thirty-five years. and, the man just has such an amazing understanding of and appreciation for the way nature works. and nicolette, jeez--she is just so, so intelligent. i haven't known many people that smart in my life.

novella told me a while ago, when i expressed anguish over not being able to include all of the information i wanted to in one article, that the writing process is like having a bank account, and each piece gives you a lot more to deposit than you use in one sitting. so you save bits and pieces from each article, each experience, each interview, and you save it for later, pulling it out when you need to invest it in another piece. well, my time with the nimans gave me a lot (and 6 hours of recordings!), and at least my next piece or two will derive from what i learned from them.


update: i got my copy today and i lurve the piece!!! the photos are amazing-i'm so proud!!!!


in honor of one of our cooks, who is sadly moving away to spain, we are having an offal dinner tomorrow night, and cooking all sorts of strange things you might not ever know you'd like to eat.

i'm so so so proud to be able to say that every single piece of offal in this dinner comes from a local producer. i was really daunted by the task of finding animal parts that didn't come from scary industrial places, and i thought we'd surely have to let go of any dreams of boudin noir. but i sat down, made a bazillion phone calls, begged, pleaded, and crossed my fingers, and it all worked out.

piggy parts: riverdog (hearts, livers, kidneys)
goat parts: bill niman's bolinas goats (tongues, livers, kidneys)
beef parts: marin sun farms (marrow bones, heart, tripe)
pig blood: marin sun farms
fish parts: monterey fish (ok, not exactly local, but still sustainable)
duck parts: sonoma county poultry
chicken parts: hoffman chickens

and, i am bursting inside with some super-exciting news. i can't tell you yet, but let me just say that i'm going to be reloading the nyt dining section like crazy tuesday night at 9 pm!

strength



one interesting thing that i've learned since i started exercising like a maniac earlier this year is how strength can manifest itself in so many different ways in different people--brute strength, flexibility, stability, muscle control. so much of it is purely mental--it's really crazy.

i find myself constantly thinking about different people in my yoga class or at my gym, "i'd never think he/she would be able to do that if i just saw him/her walking down the street." and i love that. i love that it's unexpected, hidden under your clothes, a secret you share with only the people you choose. i love that the big, bulky guys at my gym are no match in so many situations for the lithe, lanky women. i love that one from one week to the next, there can be so much change--how suddenly, you can do urdhva dhanurasana (pictured above) or a pull-up after so many weeks of trying and not getting there.

just about a year ago, i cut my hand. i was finishing up my fulbright application (so sure i'd get it); i was mildly depressed; i was obsessed with fiber (still am). i never would have thought i'd be a crazy exercise maniac (though it's obvious to anyone who knows me that i'm a pretty obsessive freakazoid), and i never would have thought that today, i'd be able to do what i can do. i certainly didn't imagine i'd be on this path, where i'm so happy to find myself--writing, heckling farmers, and generally healthy.

today, i burned my hand right over my scar--a chance for new skin to grow again. who knows where i'll be a year from now?
ah, the bowl. this is the best portrayal of the evil bowl i've ever read. so true, so true.

i've been accosted in the parking lot myself there--they thought i stole some cough syrup (i didn't.) they violated my rights, searched my body without calling the cops, and were rude to me when they found nothing. i had a 104 degree fever.

i still remember the lady who did it to me. three weeks after she treated me like crap, she came into cp (this is when i was a busser). i told the people i was working with what had happened, and tried to gather my courage to give her some payback. we all came up with a plan for me to "accidentally" spill an entire pitcher of ice water on her lap, and just when i was going to do it, alice and mikhail baryshnikov came in and sat down at the next table. i had to settle for just giving her the evil eye all night long. sad! (she totally recognized me, too, and i think she was embarassed for being such a jerk. good.)
holy crap!  i did my first (jumping) pull-up today.  i was so focused on the cut on my palm that i didn't even realize what was going on until i was waaaayyyyyyy over the top of the bar, so i went down and did another one.  

coo-coo!

next goal:  regular pull-up.  can i do it by the end of the year?




it was one of those days yesterday, the kind that set you off thinking about everything.  

driving to a job in napa, i kept thinking how lucky i am to have this place be the backdrop of my life.  

when we got there,  i realized that most of the party guests were people i've always looked up to and wanted to meet, the people i hope to one day call my colleagues (though i guess writing is a pretty solitary life).  i met and saw so many amazing people--it was out of control!  

(((((but then i felt all weird because i was the hired help.  the fact of the matter is, no matter how much you're getting paid to be there, no matter what you do in your time off, no matter how long you've been cooking or whatever sort of illustrious career working at fantabulous restaurants you've had, you're still the hired help.  you will never make or have as much money as those people, and you will always just be the help.  i think just the simple fact that they can afford to hire you, you who are charging so much to be there, makes it worse.  blech.)))))

and then i stabbed myself in the hand.  i need new knives, badly.  the first knife i ever bought was a fancy german deal (before i knew better).  it was an 8" chef's knife.  now, it's a 6".  i've flown through paring, boning and bread knives, too.  i wish i  just had a moment to go to the knife shop, but between work and going to get my butt kicked at the gym, i have no time.  except for the rare sunday.  but the knife shop is closed on sundays.  oh well, soon....



wish i had some photos--maybe tomorrow....

but slow food nation madness has set in.  crazy x 1,000,000.

my grandma's pickles were a hit.  pickled pepper panache was a hit.  and i got to see a bunch of peeps i haven't seen in fo-ev-eh.

maybe tomorrow i won't use as much sriracha as i did today, and cause myself as much distress.

we'll see.

(to remind myself)

this is the kind of amazing thing i get to do:

deeann and bob raise a pig.




we feed it donuts and fruit throughout its life.

a bunch of us go to see it slaughtered.




then we have sausage and eggs for breakfast. (um?)




chris butchers the pig and uses every bit of it (except the ears, which he gives to charlene for another project).




then, on a day when i really don't feel like going up and seeing everyone, when i'd really rather be home alone and mope, we make dinner, and celebrate the life and death of this pig.







it was a day with perfect light, and hand-cranked ice cream.




it was the kind of day i hope i never forget.

i'm dreaming up a post about my first farm kill, which was this week, but in the meantime, here's a list of what's been keeping me going lately:

advil
icy hot
picante
ice bags
hyaluronic acid
chicken livers (?!)
coco bianco beans
july red nectarines
catalan farm white corn
the el cerrito pool (amazing!)

i have been having a lot of crazy thoughts about how difficult it is to simultaneously want to be a part of something and yet hate how pretentious and exclusive that something can be. i wonder if having that consciousness will allow me to be part of that something for all that's wonderful about it, and somehow manage to not get sucked into everything that's gross about it....

also, jerome and sam are planning another open dinner, this time made only with ingredients from sf, oakland and berk. email them early if you want to go--last time the dinner sold out in a day.

what if....

-the minimum wage cooks and dishwashers made were $15/hour (only $31,200 a year before taxes, yet so much more than most cooks will ever make)?
-all restaurants made everything from scratch, had freezers only for ice cream, and the only cans opened had anchovies and tomatoes inside?
-what seemed ridiculous were the fact that people think it's okay to balk at a measly wellness surcharge instead of the fact that so many full-time restaurant employees (some of whom work two or three jobs) will never have health insurance?

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

what if people realized the true cost of making good, honest food?

what if restaurant prices really reflected that cost?

what if, when they sat down to eat, people thought about all of the lives, all of the work, that goes into making that one meal?

do you think people would still feel entitled to criticize left and right, all over the internet, about such silly things as the size of the silverware or write letters threatening blackmail and extortion (i remember one person who threatened to build a website called www.cpsucks.com) if they aren't "sufficiently compensated?"

i know people, both in restaurants and out, who think i get too wound up about this stuff. but are these issues you face in your line of work on a daily basis? i'm not even complaining about the typical challenges of working in a restaurant, like standing eight to ten hours a day, cutting, burning and otherwise injuring myself on a nearly daily basis, trying to use up food before it goes bad, and trying to make the best of a wholly-undereducated-overintoxicated work force. i totally accept those challenges.

i also totally accept responsibility for over and undercooked steaks, salty and bland food, burnt cookies, and over-garlicky aioli. it happens, and i'm sorry, and i'll do my best to make it up to you. i just wish that people had a little more compassion, and a lot more understanding about what really goes on in the back of a restaurant before they felt okay about talking smack about last night's dinner.
i so, so, so should be asleep right now, but am high on caramel-noyaux ice cream (can i just mention it's the most delicious thing i've eaten in a long, long time?). i'm mildly obsessed with noyaux right now--the other day as i was making an apricot tart, i decided next time i'd have to make the frangipane with some noyaux. i mean, can you even imagine?

i turned in my next piece today, for another magazine (this one's nationally distributed, so you can go to your local independent bookshop and drop ten or twelve bucks on it!), and it was an amazing relief. i took a subject that's been talked about for over thirty years, and told a story (i believe) hasn't yet been told about it. that's what i want to do with all of my writing.

i could do this for the rest of my life.

i haven't exactly chosen passions that are rewarding in any traditional sense--mine are amongst the least sustainable professions i can imagine. but sometimes, like last week when i was interviewing for the story, and i realized i was at the home of someone i've looked up to and respected for over a decade, i saw that sometimes, my path rewards me in other ways, ways that could never be bought with money (and good thing, because i don't have much of it). people are what give me joy, and fire, and luckily, i've met some really amazing people thus far. i hope it only continues...

my new tattoos

celebrating my two favorite ingredients:




just. kidding. dad.












yikes! i'm pooped. we got a boar in today from riverdog. the whole transaction was kind of cloudy and i had no clue how big the pig would be.

when the driver came and asked for three large men to help unload the pig, i knew we were in trouble. problem is, we don't really have many large men around in the morning. i'm the strongest, and that's not saying much. so it took five of us to lift all 212 pounds of it out of the truck and bring it into the walk-in.

cl made light work of breaking it down, and i jumped in and did what i could with the loins and shoulders. i kept telling myself, it's just like a lamb, only bigger. a thirty pound lamb, i can break down and clean up in fifteen minutes. a two hundred pound pig is another story. it was still impressive that it didn't quite take an hour for the two of us to break down and clean up the whole thing--even more impressive, when i weighed all of the cleaned up parts, their cumulative weight was 209 lbs. only three pounds of waste (mostly glands and soft fat) from the entire thing!



i can clearly remember when i realized i wanted to write--11th grade advanced english. i'd always eaten up books voraciously, and that class renewed my passion for reading after several years of super-duper dorky seminar level classes where i stopped caring about books and only cared about grades. we read, and we wrote, and i realized it was what gave me peace.

i've always loved to tell stories, and as a writer, i have always done best as a story-teller. i made it my new year's resolution to publish at least two stories this year, and now, i am halfway there. after the class with mp last year, i felt encouraged to reapply for the fulbright. with a recommendation from him, one from alice, and one from my shakespeare scholar professor, i felt like my application was impeccable. five years ago, i was the first alternate for a fulbright to italy to catalog traditional and endangered food-making techniques. i felt like this time, i could only do better. my writing was better, my idea more focussed, my recommenders knew me better--i had a great shot, right?

well, i was wrong. i was out in the first round. more than being devastated, i was shocked. i realized i had a decision to make--fall into a funk, or fall into action. mp, just as bewildered as i was, encouraged me to just write. so i did. i planned to write an article about garlic, and along the way, met chester aaron, a man whose story i knew i couldn't do justice to in just 1500 words. but i foolishly tried, and amazingly, ended up with this. how it became the cover story, i'll never know. i think it was because of winni's beautiful photos.

the best part about all of this is that it gives me some momentum, and some faith in myself. i've been saying i want to write for so long without having anything to show for it. i turned down so many chances that didn't feel right, and have missed many opportunities i thought were my only shot. but now, i've started my way down the path i've been waiting to walk for so many years, and i can see that this is the way it was always meant to be.

***i'm not sure if they'll put the story online, but i have a hunch that they will eventually, so keep checking!

aglio


fresh pink Provence garlic, originally uploaded by Judy B.




let it be recorded here that i will return to italy, and i will get my project done, somehow, someway, someday. i will not lose the language it took so many headaches to learn. i will not let go of my italian friends and family. and i will not forsake the dream i've had for so many years.