Join the Slow Food Movement

It was snowing when the Region 4 computerized telephone system woke us with the “two hour school delay” alert. By sunrise, the wet snow had become a cold dark rain. On such a day, I make hot chocolate. I put a little water into a saucepan with 4 tablespoons of Dutch Cocoa (Peet’s is my preference), 6 tablespoons of sugar and a pinch of salt. Starting with water is important; for reasons never explained, the cocoa does not dissolve in milk. Once the mixture is thick and hot, I add about 4 cups of milk. Sometimes I will add a little vanilla or cinnamon. (To my own cup I will often add orange peel or even chili powder.) The result is very satisfying and so much better than the packets of “milk chocolate flavor mix” sold in boxes of 10 packs with a shelf life in years. Cheers.

This sausage is so cheap I would be suspicious; except that I know they make it on site, sell it quickly and don’t fill it with anything fancy, just pork and spices. There are two kinds: sweet (fennel) and hot. It is never frozen and I can often buy it bulk before they put it into the casing. The old guy that sells it to me is always smiling, but never fast. He is Lino’s dad. He laughs easily and gives slivers of good parmesan cheese to the kids. Lino is usually a few feet away making chicken cutlets and meatballs for grinders.
I always get 10 lbs or more when I make the trip to this tiny market way off the main roads. The kids love the easiest preparation: braised in tomato sauce and stock and served over pasta. I like to mix it into bean soup, or crumple it into risotto. This evening I took it out of the casings, browned it in a pan, deglazed with red wine, mixed with canned tomatoes and then layered it with sliced eggplant and cheese. Then it goes into the oven for a slow hour. I am passing the time on 43T while the smells drift upstairs.

We have 5 chickens: 4 hens and a white rooster. Last Fall we were getting about 3-4 eggs per day, dropping to about 2 eggs per day as the Winter Solstice approached. Production stopped in mid December when a big storm covered us with a foot of snow, although that may have been a coincidence. I am told that it is not the weather that tells the chickens when to lay eggs, it is the light. Eggs farms illuminate their hens 14 hours per day to fool their instincts into thinking that it is May. We have debated the putting electric lights in the hutch and although it is tempting to claim we are opting for the natural approach, we are really just not ambitious enough to set it up. But I miss the experience of very fresh eggs. The yolks are thicker and the consistency will vary depending on the diet of the birds that includes chicken feed, bugs, weeds, kitchen scraps and leftover pasta. I love the warmth of a freshly laid egg in my hand. I continued to check the hutch but was always disappointed even though I was leaving them delicious leftover bean soup and old carrots. Finally, in these longer February days, we got one egg, then another, then another from a different hen, bringing the production rate to one egg per day. One fresh egg per day is a wonderful country luxury, to fry gently and serve over fresh salad, or mix raw into steaming hot rice or scramble in hot bacon grease.

“Let’s cook at our house”, I suggested to our friends, rejecting the take-out pizza proposal. We had just completed a beautiful winter hike around the reservoir and we were hungry. While the kids played computer games, the adults gathered in the kitchen. Our friends envy our easy dining routines and took notes while I made a favorite simple “slow food” dish. I began with two strips of bacon in a non stick pan. Once the fat was hot, I browned boneless skinless chicken thighs (fresh is much better than previously frozen). I removed the brown pieces and deglazed the pan with chicken stock (Pacific – NOT Swanson) and added chopped garlic (fresh), tomato paste (about 2T) and thyme (about 1t). I returned the chicken to the pan and covered it with red wine (cheap and fruity is best). I put the lid on and turned the heat to a low bubble. Then we played music with the kids for about 40 minutes (between us we have 2 beginner violins, a viola, a guitar and a piano). The husbands boiled pasta and steamed green beans. I tested for salt (it usually needs a little) and thickened the sauce with cornstarch and water. We sat down together enjoying the end of our weekend with real plates and cloth napkins. The meal ended with thawed blueberries picked last summer and Italian cookies made on a recent school holiday. The total cost was about half of the equivalent pizza. (The calories was also about half.)

“Slow Food USA envisions a future food system that is based on the principles of high quality and taste, environmental sustainability, and social justice.” It is the opposite of “Fast Food”, which is mass produced food designed for convenience, quick consumption and profit, with taste and environment largely disregarded except as needed to optimize market and profit. Slow Food has become an environmental cause, but it is also a heritage cause, and I am inspired to post a story. It is a long posting, but spending time to write a thoughtful essay is compatible with Slow Food objectives.
Encouraged by my daughter, I invited 4 families over for Brunch on New Year’s Day 2008. As I was planning the meal, my husband called me over to watch the latest Happy Slip video on You Tube which poked fun at holiday traditions including “another pot luck to go to…”. Oh my, by January 1 people will be really sick of the usual: kids playing video games, adults clustered in the small groups eating politely from paper plates and searching for a spot to sit. I determined that for New Year’s Day we would all sit and dine together. No cold ham, no bean dip and no chips.
My family skeptically obeyed my instructions. We moved the living room furniture to the edges of the room , moved the craft table from the basement and gathered every chair that we owned. Combining the dining room table with the craft table, we created a very long surface spanning the now combined dining room / living room. We made 21 place settings with mismatched plates, selected the best of our cloth napkins and pulled the wine glasses and water glasses from the back of the dusty cabinets.
I made a large pan of baby back ribs braised in beer and molasses, an Italian dish of chicken thighs spiced with hot cherry peppers and a Malaysian beef stew simmered in coconut milk with cinnamon and star anise. My husband frowned as I set up the rice cooker, but my heritage is Asian and a complete meal must include rice. I assured him there would also be potatoes. And fresh green beans that I would steam at the last minute. My husband picked two Italian Reds and one French Red from the basement, but I don’t recall the specifics. I’m sure that he remembers the exact wines, just as I remember the foods.
A few minutes before the official start of the gathering, the house was ready, and I panicked. How would people react? This was so far from the expected formula . Would my audacious behavior banish us from the small town social scene? Why did I allow myself to be intimidated by Happy Slip?
I did not need to worry. We had invited families who were delighted. “This is just like Sunday dinners growing up second generation Italian”. “This reminds me of visiting my Grandparents in Greece”. It was not strange at all. For many of the adults it was familiar and stirred memories of other slow meals joining family and friends.
We sat together, mixing the families, mixing the adults and children, and sharing one big conversation about the New Year. Resolutions were shared and included the usual “I’d like to get a Wii”, the surprises “I’d like my mom to teach me how to cook” and the philosophical “my grandfather told me that every year I should try to work less hours and make more money.” Every dish was enjoyed. The Malaysian Beef over rice received the most compliments from the adults. The kids preferred the ribs and oven roasted potatoes. The Italian and French wines paired well with the big flavors of the foods and the French (probably a burgundy) was the favorite. Eventually, the kids headed to the basement to play pool and upstairs to the video games. The adult lingered, discussing childhood meals over coffee (from freshly ground whole beans), cookies (Sweet Maria’s Italian Cookies), Port (well aged non vintage,) Tiramisu (homemade with lots of egg and cream) and Lemon Bars (my grandmother’s recipe).
There was a message on my cell phone last week from one of the New Year’s families: “are we available for gathering on Saturday?” I called back immediately,” yes we will be there and what can we bring?” “Don’t bring anything, just yourselves.”

My teenagers get 20 minutes for lunch at school. That is barely enough time to get through the cafeteria line. So I front load their systems with scrambled eggs every morning. I mix it up. Today I added chopped baby bock choy, cheese, bean sprouts and sambal (spicy and crunchy). Yesterday was bacon, cheese, grated zucchini and Northwood Fire Seasoning (a tex mex thing). My favorite is feta, frozen chopped spinach and oregano (salty).

It is winter outside. Basil, Cilantro, Rosemary and Thyme are growing happily on the windowsill in my bathroom. I also have a Meyer Lemon tree and sweet peas. It takes about 1 year for the lemons to mature, but the lemon bars that result are outstanding.