What's in your honey, honey?

A great piece of investigative journalism from Food Safety News finds that the vast majority of honey sold in the US isn't honey or has dubious origins. Lax governmental oversight and huge profits for Chinese honey counterfeiters, along with cagey anti-consumer stonewalling from "Big Honey" mean that unless you're schlepping to the farmer's market, you probably don't know what you're getting and could be sweetening your whiskey with heavy metals.

After green curry

When I was in Thailand, I took an afternoon cooking class and one of the highlights was making my own green curry.

We rode a Rot Dang to some sheet-metal pole barn, and got a lesson from the only "cooking school" in Chaing Mai that advertised itself as "vegetarian friendly." It was a blinding hot paste of green chilis, toasted spices, and the general Thai menagerie of cilantro, coriander, galangal, etc.

Since I foolishly left that cookbook at my folks' house, and haven't been able to get it back, I've been flailing along with a succession of green curry recipes, most recently this one.

Because you go to the stove with the ingredients that you've got, not the ingredients that you'd like (well, more that I don't really plan shopping by recipes), Amy and I made a series of substitutions from almost the giddyup. Our recipe follows:

1 tbsp coriander seeds
1 tsp whole white or regular peppercorns
1 tsp cumin seeds
1/4 tsp fenugreek (Amy hates anise, so we don't buy it)

Grind to powder.

1 1/2 tbsps garlic
3 tbsps cilantro leaves and stems
1/2 cup loosely packed chili leaves
1/2 cup chopped Thai chilis (leave seeds in)
1 cup green pepper
2 tbsps ginger, peeled and minced
2 tbsps lemon juice
3 tbsp lime juice
2 tbsp shallots
1/2 tbsp Vegetarian Stir Fry Sauce

We fried up a bunch of veggies to go with 2/3 cup of the above paste:

1 1/2 cup cubed tofu
1 cup chopped onions
1 1/2 cup chopped potato (two small red potatoes)
3/4 cup beet (one golden beet)
1/3 cup chopped carrot
1/2 tsp sesame oil
1/2 can light coconut milk
1 tbsp cane sugar

It came out well, tasting halfway between a green curry and a yellow one, and very spicy. We didn't have a blender, so it was mostly chopped and blended with a mortar and pestle. There are half a dozen ways I could make it more authentic, but it was damn tasty and tomorrow we're going to scramble it with eggs (and maybe rice noodles).

Happy birthday to me!

I had a pretty good birthday yesterday (well, and today).

It started shittily enough, with yet another grinding battle against an over-burdened health care bureaucracy, but picked up with a trip to Mom's Tamales — not to be confused with Mama's Tamales, our previous favorite tamales. (Still good, just Mom's were fluffier and spicier.)

Stopped by the CSA; going to their potluck tomorrow.

Amy and I met Amanda and Isaac at City Sip, had some tempernillo and rioja, along with some tasty cheeses. Not too bad for happy hour — $4 tempernillo is worthwhile even if it's a bit one-note.

Then Amy and I headed off to Sage Bistro, a vegan half-raw bistro. Service was great, food was three stars, with every dish having sauce problems. Too much dressing on the salads, too many sauces on the spring rolls, too sweet marina sauce on amazing little ravioli.

We took a quick detour by Seth Lower's show at the Weekend Gallery, right across the street from Wacko. It was a really small space, but it's worth seeing.

We ended up back at home with fresh berries and cream. Fantastic.

Today, had a picnic up at Barnsdall Park (an official webpage that's unfortunately ranked lower than the spam farm it replaced) with a passel of folks I haven't seen in a while. It was nice overeating in a park. We swung by the Los Angeles Municipal Art Gallery on our way out — strong LA County show there, though the photographers again beat everybody else.

I made ice cream

From this recipe, but I will say that his emphasis on whipping to get a lot of air in the mix led to (maybe because of the hand mixer) more a mousse than an ice cream. Though that might have also been because I didn't have any milk and just used cream straight through.

Culinary intersectionality of suck

As a vegetarian, Mexican food is pretty easy to make at home — tacos, burritos, enchiladas, these are all things that have a pretty simple format, but can support huge variation. But when Food Network show Mexican Made Easy wants to do a vegetarian episode, what do they choose? A trifle, lasagna and a salad.

Any cooking show's ethnic food is a dodgy proposition — I think what makes these cheese sticks Mexican is just the cilantro — but it highlights a tremendous failure of imagination with vegetarian food.

This is especially depressing since the vast majority of what I eat is "vegetarian ethnic" food — "American" food is pretty meat-centric, shaped by generations of agricultural policy to heighten cheap meat and cheap starches. And because I'm lucky to live in a place where "Mexican" breaks down into endless regional differences (from Oaxacan to Korean), I know that "Mexican" is both spices and format, and is pretty damn easy.

So, mainstream+vegetarian+ethnic hits this culinary intersection of suck, where this food that could have been tasty and simple ends up a bland, uninspired hassle. It's no wonder that most folks think they couldn't be vegetarian — I couldn't either if I had to live on "Mexican mac and cheese."

Luckily, there are some (still easy) ways to make your Mexican food exponentially better.

The first is to grind your spices fresh. Put cumin in pretty much everything, usually when you're cooking sauteeing the onions (pretty much every vegetarian Mexican dish involves building from some onion sautee or another). You can use dried oregano, but fresh cilantro is much better. Adding a pinch cinnamon can add depth, especially with beans. Black beans have more flavor than pinto beans (which is why pinto beans make better refried). The spicing goes from dark to light — add things like cumin, dried peppers or bay leaves earlier, add things like cilantro, fresh peppers or avacado later. Salt cautiously throughout.

Most of all, just season a little more than you think you should and cook the vegetables a little less.

Underground fat action

Dinner with a show

Amy and I finally went out to Di Carlo tonight, the wood-fired pizza place next to the weird cash-for-cars joint.

When we got there, we realized they didn't serve booze, and for a couple of our sophistication, sobriety was not an option. So while Amy rode back to the house to pick up a bottle of Trader Joe's Barbera d'Alba, I was supposed to order a pizza and a salad and wait.

That was thwarted by the drama from the table before us.

I started eavesdropping shamelessly (as is my wont) when I hear the waitress say, "You should have told me!" to the table, then the guy in the corner starts saying, "I don't usually tell everyone I'm diabetic when I order."

He comes up to the counter, and starts telling some man (I assume the owner or manager) that he loves, loves, lurves this restaurant, but that he ordered 25 minutes ago, and got told it was only going to be five more minutes 12 minutes ago. And that the waitress didn't seem to care at all, and he'd already taken his medicine after the last time she told him five more minutes. He said, "I'm diabetic, this is serious."

Now, granted, he had a whiny, entitled voice. And the waitress usually has around zero control over when things come out of the oven, especially a wood-fired one. The manager jumped to and got the parties their pizzas, which were pretty much right there anyway.

But on the way out, the dude came up again. He reached across the counter and took the man's (owner? manager?)) hand in his and started talking about how he loved the place, but was so incredibly angry that something, something something whispered, because he suddenly realized that everyone in the restaurant could hear him.

The waitress had come over to the counter and started arguing with him, sotto voce. As the customer left, she flipped off a "Fuck you, bitch" with a delightful Latin accent (her dyed blonde hair and fake tan made her ethnicity unplaceable) and went out after the customer to continue swearing at him, at the same time her boss was still trying to glad hand him.

It was weird — the waitress was totally cool to Amy and me, but totally over the line to this other guy who seemed to kind of be in the right. I was stuck trying to explain it with stereotypes, like, that whole party (including the diabetic) were trim, well-dressed guys with the Valley Girl accent, and the waitress had an indeterminate accent that just marked her as "not American" (it might have been easier to guess if she wasn't a bottled golden blonde). So my guess was homophobia, which might be racist, but who knows?

Anyway, it was a lot more interesting than the goofy conversation the guys next to us were having about the relative loot factors of a bunch of games. "Borderline, I love it, I'm a total loot master. I love a level nine sniper rifle with a six shot clip." That guy was talking about the temple he worked at and how cool it was that his boss had an open mind and "liked all that new age shit."

Luckily, the pizza was really pretty damn tasty.

On Armenian food in LA

LA Weekly's Squid Ink writes about Armenian food and mentions me, though I'm a little unclear on where they found my comment (it's pretty much true, though).

Too bad they spelled my name wrong.

At home he feels like a tourist

From Mar 4, 2011

Over the last two weeks, two parental visits have led Amy and I through more local culture than we usually see in six months. We even managed to watch the Oscars on TV, out of some reflexive LA suckle.

From Mar 4, 2011

Amy's parents got in two Sundays ago, late in the afternoon, so our first day out was on Monday. We headed out to Altadena for the Eaton Canyon Nature Area hike, taking us up into the Eaton Falls along the Mount Wilson Toll Road.

The park was packed for President's day, and the recent rains had swelled the arroyo from mostly-dry ditch to a respectable stream, and in getting to the falls there were roughly 15 crossings that had to be made, leaping from rock to rock, which meant usually a wait from five to fifteen minutes as the unprepared tourists squealed and shimmied across wet rocks. Luckily, the hiking boots Amy bought me prior to Yosemite still had plenty of grip, though she ended up taking a splash or two toward the end.

Thanks to Target, LACMA was free too — that and their latest tete a tete with Gaga has me reconsidering my generalized boycott, though their shitty service still sticks in my craw — so got to see the newly-opened Art of the Ancient Americas. I'm not usually that big a fan of ancient artwork; the accumulation of artifacts doesn't interest me much and the vast distance between modern cultures and ancient ones makes pulling meaning out of the work highly suspect, but I will say that the craft was amazing and that I had really under-rated the painting skill of the Maya, even if I still find the whole human sacrifice thing deeply fucked.

We also took another tour through the Lucknow exhibit, and I have to write up something on it for the time-travel blog. Sooner or later, but that's the trouble with time travel, right?

After that, we buffaloed Amy's parents into eating at Loteria, where I had some fantastic mole negro chilaquiles, and Amy had decent potato enchiladas with mole verde — the tortillas and fluffy potatoes felt soggy drenched in the green sauce, but the sauce itself was really tasty. Being stupid tourists, we didn't have a reservation and Amy's folks were moderately surprised at the wait, but it ended up being a blessing — we got seated at the bar, and the 'tender was noticeably quicker than the waitstaff, though it did mean suffering through a douche of brahs maximizing their social media leverage or some shit, one of whom tried to draw me into a conversation about whatever the lime-tequila-beer drink is and how it was the best thing ever, and after I was shruggo (dude, I'm eating here), made some crack about how I looked like I'd drank a lot of beers. Gave him a fuck-you-cheers with my bottle of Chupacabras, which was better than it had any right to be.

From Mar 4, 2011

On Tuesday, we ate breakfast at Home, who shouldn't be judged on their slow, cluttered flash website. I went with the chilaquiles again, this time with red sauce and soyrizo, because I'm a firm believer in the idea of chilaquiles for every meal. We watched Keith Morris eat oatmeal, and luckily, I avoided having to explain who the Circle Jerks were.

After breakfast, we went to Descanso Gardens, a country estate that was planted full of camellias (over 34,000) in order to sell cut flowers; it's now a park and preserve and absolutely gorgeous. We managed to hit the camellias in full bloom, which seems to be the way to go, though neither roses nor lilacs (which they also have) are in yet.

Then we swung down to see Santee Alley, which bills itself as LA's "premier outdoor shopping experience," which is one way of saying, "Full of designer knock-offs, bongs and bootlegs." We managed to pick up a pretty lovely rug for $150 that's already fraying around the edges. You pays your money, you takes your chances, I guess.

For dinner, we hit up Cheech's Pizza, which was decent, and the two-for-one they've got is nice. Solid, average pizza, which Amy's folks appreciated after being threatened with Indian or vegan food, and huge salads. The first time we had Cheech's, about six months ago, it was fantastic, but it's been hit and miss for us ever since. Just glad it came out well while the folks were here.

From Mar 4, 2011

Amy left on Wednesday to go to a conference, leaving me all on my lonesome with Pete and Candy. We went on a leisurely stroll up to Griffith Park Observatory, took in a show at the planetarium (which was a delightful mix of campy, cheesy, science-y goodness), and saw the awesome power of Tesla:

From Mar 4, 2011

I talked Amy's folks into trying Thai food for the first time, and took them to Tub Tim, meeting up with our pal Amanda. I picked Tub Tim mostly because the Yelp reviews emphasized that their mild dishes were still tasty — Amy's parents don't like spices in general, so I didn't want them to have a full-on Thai pepper freak out. I went with Panang, Amanda got prik king; neither were anything to write home about, but were solid and tasty. I got the mango sticky rice dessert, and it was OK. In general, their sticky rice (which I also got with Panang) was a bit dry. Outside of that, pretty unremarkable.

I then spent Thursday in an insomniac haze…

The next weekend, my folks came in. Which I'll write about next.

In Chicago? Want to be a better (vegetarian) cook?

Chicago Vegetarian Catering, run by Dan Boucher (my ersatz brother-in-law) will teach you, or cook for you.

Am I getting enough self-righteousness in my diet?

Tasha, The Voracious Vegan gives up being vegan in a post that applies the same religious fervor of her veganism to her new bicycle, being a localvore. With a new moral philosophy that seems mostly cribbed from Tool's Disgustipated ("Life feeds on life!"), she goes from MEAT IS MURDER to ZOMG BACON in less time (but more words) than it takes to make (vegan) ramen.

Ginny Messina, the Vegan RD, answers back, pointing out a lot of things that rang false to me about the Voracious Vegan.

Now, Tasha has answered some of the criticisms she's gotten, but it seems like she's ignored most of the trenchant criticism in order to focus on the asshole vegans that everyone knows (and she used to be). You can't declare that you no longer see things in black and white while simultaneously declaring that vegan or full-on bacon orgies are the only options.

And, you know, I'm a little bit annoyed by the constant ad hominem dismissal of legitimate criticism as coming from a misogynistic place — it's OK to call women obnoxious when they're acting obnoxious. It's not because you're a strong woman challenging the patriarchy here, it's because you come off as a self-righteous taint, and in order to be self-righteous it helps if you're right.

ONE HUNDRED!

Jacquilynne made 100-layer lasagna and I think I can turn it vegetarian without too much thought.

(Now I can close the tab so I don't keep returning to it going "I know I have that open for a reason!")

Calbeercitas

This sounds pretty tasty and I would like to remember to try it. That is all.

Zuke alorz!

Rachel, from LA, makes zukes with dill.

Alas, when I made 'em, kinda soggy and meh. (Is it weird that I don't want to badmouth bloggers in town, on the off chance I meet them?)

Zucchini remains a generally meh food for me. I made good tacos with them once, and would like to try Rick Bayless's BlogThis!Share to XShare to FacebookShare to Pinterest