first off — HAHAHAHAHAHAHA. thank you writer Shah, for pointing out how ridiculous food propaganda can be. Mixing politics with food is like trying to open a fresh 5lb paper bag of flour and having it explode – everywhere. Poof!

Though, it says a lot when such food companies are so terrified of losing sales that any negative association to current events is perceived to be too real to consume. It’s called marketing. i wonder what would happen if all the “chicken of the sea” cans turn into “oil of the sea” cans now, if there are even any fish left. or maybe they should just call it mint chocolate depression. HAHA, awww. too real, too real, bring it back.

My theater days had taught me that comedy is a way of observing the world and pointing out the ridiculous truths that everybody else thinks but doesn’t want to be martyred for saying out loud. And when you can point fingers at something or someone who is brave enough to put themselves out there as an example of the situation to laugh at it out loud, then we’re accepting it as nonsense as a cultural whole.

This article represents how I really feel about everything I’ve learned thus far about the American food systems and politics in general.  Though important to point out significant historical events that are swept under the rug in order to learn from them through a cultural lens, it is also important to laugh at all the ridiculous forces that influence the way food products are marketed and sold to a overly excessive consumer market, in a way that places the blame on someone or something put out there for all to see.  By bringing it up in discussion, I only hope to stir up enough attention to find relatable feelings about everyone’s current food situation, and I package my thoughts with academia in order to claim credibility.  Thank goodness for push button publishing. ;)

So this is all good.  I was finally able to laugh at myself last night about how heart breaking it feels to get my foodie perceptions of the world shattered to a million pieces in the last two semesters of my food studies (I use this word ‘foodie’ very carefully).   It takes a lot of strength to get up everyday and go to class to learn about everything that is wrong with our food systems and subsequently how it is destroying our perceptions of the world, and what it would take change it all, consumer’s choice of course.  We would have to scrap everything and start from scratch basically, returning to old school methods of how to organize ourselves as a species.  Yet, there is no such thing as “the good ole days” other than the time period of their lives when people refer to when they were most ignorant about the realities of their own world.   Which stirs up great unrest because I am a problem solver, a situation handler, and a perpetual thinker.  Yet who am I to change politics and the way of the world or to solve hunger?  Those are not my life goals, and never have been.  I live to eat and to share my joy of food with people.  I live to inspire others about gaining access to better than what they already have.  (This mentality is a product of my generation ;) – eighties kids always shop for better because they’ve only seen the world get worse and worse in terms of politics within their own lifetime, and those who thrive are the ones who don’t settle for anything less than their present situation)  But I also love to learn and teach. I am addicted to learning and self discovery in a way that teaches me to thrive.  Thriving to me means more than just survival, for me it means fighting for a quality of life. It’s also tough being resourceful when you are constantly told that there are no resources left where you study and where words like that either inspire creativity or stunt it.  Hence I look elsewhere because I am not bound by birthright to the country in which I study, and now I see that as the greatest blessing in disguise.   Perhaps this is what perpetuates my nonsensical feelings of not belonging to any one place.  My life is split between three places, and two countries. My heart is where the love is, and the love is where the food is.

Claiming my ‘foodie’ identity became a journey where I was enraptured by the idea of discovering where my food comes from; ignited by my culinary life while working in the kitchen. That became my point of access. As a restaurant worker the only time you get to try haute cuisine is if you go into a kitchen, prove that you’re worthy by working for free and keeping up with the pace, and maybe you’ll get to sneak a few bites in here or there.  You’re expected to be an expert at food because those who have access to buying the ‘best’ out there with capital power in such a private society actually knows more than you about good food. but because you live and work around food all day and see the ugly realities of its carbon based nature, through food safety measures, the glamour of it all is claiming your access to good food like a badge of honour; that you’ve ‘made it’ in the darwinian sense of survival. that you will always be around food and make it your life to survive off of it. that you are better off than those struggling to scrounge up for a meal daily. I may have just found my thesis. :)

Home is where the food is, and is where my brain has space and the freedom to breathe.

Thank you for the soulfood.

xoxo J xoxo

I apologize for my lack of May posts.  May has been a really hard month.  It’s been tough since spring break because I’ve been feeling really burnt out, and I hold it all in, because I don’t like being the debbie downer, holding bad news all the time about what not to eat anymore, or how we’re all going to die because mother nature is going to wipe us all out. I’ve been complaining a lot about the systemic problems in our lives, and have been feeling really conflicted because I always have the privileged option of opting out, and giving up on this fight simply by moving home post grad.  So I’ve been hesitant to write, because I was scared.

My friend described my blog to another avid food lover as a space where “she whines about the current food issues” that we all face everyday.  And I was taken aback by that description (even though any feedback is good) I don’t want to sound like a baby or act like one and just whine and cry all the time.  When I was being trained as an artist, I was taught to create a safe space in order to own the space.  To identify all the rules, and break them all.  I am rebellious by nature, and when the going gets tough, I am a pro at deflecting attention from myself to others and criticize what everyone else is doing wrong. So needless to say, I was very upset to learn about all the hard stuff about money, and economics, and science, wrapped up in empty promises, lies, and cut throat survival techniques from people who have built up their own systems in order to challenge the current one.  So it was easy for me to turn this space into one were I was able to emotionally indulge in it and whine about all that was wrong with the food system, when it became too hard to find the opportunities for change, and stay strong mentally in order to fight off all the negative forces that just make me want to give up.  Life’s hard and I was angry that the one comfort I had always had through eating and consuming, was slowing consuming me and jading the way I viewed the world.  My relationship with food was changing at a rate that I was no comfortable with, and I got scared.  I ran, I tried to ignore, and I tried to escape, only to realize how small I was playing, and how much weaker I actually felt.  I don’t want to run anymore.  It is what it is.  And what I walk away from this year is this:  people will always be hungry, and therefore people will always fight for their survival and do what it takes, even if it means taking care of yourself first and foremost.  It is in our nature.  If and when it’s time for me to become a mom, this will all change again, by I cannot get there until I finish this step first.

And although I may feel completely consumed by it all most of the time, I cannot lose hope.  Because once I stop believing in myself, it’s over.  They’ve won.  I can’t let that happen.  That is not finishing what I started, when I chose this journey and that is just playing small to let them win.  And I am competitive by nature, I hate to lose.

I just need to change my relationship with myself, and not let my thoughts consume me. It’s time to survive.  It’s time to bring my A game.  again and again and again.

I am hungry. Hear me roar!

No one else I know has such a sweet tooth as he, other than myself as a teenager when I lived off of sugar, fat, and processed microwavable junk too. Ironically, he’s a dentist, and his ultimate indulgence is sugar.  MmmHmmm, just like my sinful doctor friends who smoke like chimneys, and my chef friends who live off of beer, hard liquor, and mcdees.  Which begs me to question, why are we so drawn to the things that we know are bad for us, and why does it feel so good to not practice what we preach sometimes?

(Ok Ok I admit, my shinning moment this semester was going straight to Takahachi, my favourite sushi digs in Manhattan, and inhaling a bowl of toro over what I call the best vinegared sushi rice in town – after I had sworn off eating endangered tuna for a month during my markets research paper. YUP. “Hell TASTES SO GOOOOOD” and crying for three days straight over the current Oil Spill Crisis and while watching “The Cove”.)

Don’t get me wrong, not all sugar is bad, and I LOVE SUGAR.  I just have a growing repulsion to neon food, which reminds me of three teenage girls on the bus the other day all sucking on fist sized jawbreakers covered in a radioactive rainbow of powdered sugar.  Their mouths were glowing blue when they snickered at each other that made me want to gag.  Foods nowadays are wayyy too sweet that tries so hard to overcompensate for the lack of fat that should be present, in flavour and in nutrients. Like yogurt on the market these days.  What’s up with all the fat free low fat crap? Why would I want to eat fat free milk fat? may as well call it sugar paste, and may as well tap that syrup straight into my veins with an iv.  May as well.

At a recent Food Studies Lunch Reception, A and I were like teenagers on crack when we tried the new Truvia non sugar sweetener ‘made from’ or extracted from the stevia plant known to be 1000x sweeter than sugah.  It was indeed.  We were both surprised at how little we added to our super sour cranberry cocktails in order to kick it into high gear.

So I can’t help but ask also:

IS CANDY REALLY A FOOD?

If we start defining what candy is, can we start by defining what food is?  HAHAHA…Perhaps because what and why we consume feels so good because it is so bad.  Maybe we all have rebellious kids inside of us who just want food to be fun again, sweet, creative, and carefree.

or maybe it’s because when we were younger, it was our first encounters of joy through consumption, of something yummy, of things that we just wanted more of…

gimme more sugahhhh!

“so what’s wrong with sugar? I LIKE SUGAR” said a colleague of mine in class one monday evening when we were discussing all the new soda taxes being put into place.  She got really defensive, like someone was trying to yank the lolipop out of her mouth.  Or the Koolaid.  My dish is this – I don’t mind the conversations about what counts as good or bad, and how candy or sugary drinks is ‘defined’, my question is, people don’t mind paying for things as long as they know where their hard earned money is going, So where and what are these new taxes going to pay for?  Money in this country speaks the loudest, and as much as I want to fight this reality, I can’t.

It’s been a tough year in grad school, learning about America’s addiction to oil and sugar.  And like any child, I have cried and screamed in protest when things I like are taken away from me, hidden away from me, placed out of reach, or even destroyed.  It just so happens that I like good food, and it’s taken me a while to retrain my palate again for survival.  So all I can say is this, my relationship with food is constantly changing, and I challenge you to question yours too.  It is too easy to stick to what we know, to what we like, and to what is comfortable.  Emotional eating is always and only an instant gratifying moment that quickly passes, and we are often left wanting more to keep satiated.  Thus, as I look forwrd to a nice relaxing summer, to recharge and actually EAT, travel, and enjoy life again, I will walk away from this first year with a new found sense of awareness, of hardcore knowledge about a system that I once did not know.  Although there have been many trying times when I just wanted to throw in the towel, and indulge in that burger that might eventually kill me, I am learning how to change for the better, in hopes to inspire others to search for theirs too.

Life is never fair and all you can really ask for is balance that hopefully makes the bitterness of reality just a tad bit sweeter every so often.  And for that, I am so greatful that I met B.  Thanks for reminding me constantly that Love is strong enough to be all the GOOD in my life that gives me an escape from all the bad out there.  You are just like candy…

This pretty much sums up what I’ve been working on, thinking about, and engulfing my head on in the past few weeks – well, that and fattie bluefin TUNA and its depleting sources in the Atlantic – more on that later…

Props to the makers of the twenty min easy to digest and understand videos on the way we consume and how it’s going to kill us all if we don’t make some changes soon.

I always say, mother nature has the power to wipe us all out if we piss her off enough, and I think it’s time to stop doing just that.  We’ve been poking the dragon with money and hiding behind the big clouds of carbon smoke for a while now, and all we’ve proven is that we can’t fool anyone, even ourselves. One can only distract, insist, and entertain their own fancies for so long.  But what is going to happen later?

Sure sure, my generation is and has always been tagged as the “INSTANT GRATIFICATION” generation — but we’re learning to look forwards now culturally as hard as it is.  Question is, what about the next?  Will there be any resources left for them to even gratify on, or will they simply be walking drones that plug into a larger online world of consumption and reality further disconnecting themselves from organizing, working, living, and bonding with each other?

Were are we headed with this capitalistic consumption pattern that is soaking up every bit of resource left and spewing out garbage mountains?  Hmm, I feel like I walk through such a garbage mountain every day — it’s called Manhattan.  It smells, it rots, vermin and rodents are stronger than humans in fighting off disease, and the only good food left is bought at a high price because it’s been shipped in from somewhere that still has soil, grass, clean water, and air.  That or it’s made in a factory somewhere.

What a bleak future I’ve learned to see and want to protect my future kids if I ever have kids from.  Such is also a common thought amongst our generation because this is the first time our culture has hit rock bottom in our very own lifetime.  But it can be done! In seeking for inspiration like I know how to do best when things get tough, I look to movies — What a fabulous one this was: Earth Days in looking back at how the environmental movement was born in America, and how americans banned together to stand up to their leaders who weren’t doing a good job, to convince their leaders to economically provide incentives in order to protect the people, by banning pollution to improve the air and water quality – between the 50’s to the late 70’s.  So much work was done in that time period!

So, can we do it now?  Can we band together to make small changes together?  Can we convince others too in a way that frames the argument in a less offensive – “everything you do is wrong” kind of way?

The most interesting part about the way my generation grew up in a world where spreading capital wealth and neoliberalism from the 80’s to now was the sole reason for extracting what we thought would be an endless supply of resources and sourcing efficiency from all over the world is that the moment we became a “GLOBAL SOCIETY” – we took on all the bad stuff too.  Like a marriage, countries started to share each other’s burdens whether they could organize and get along or not, and is now trying to divorce themselves from the social justice problems that where hidden in the package.  It’s like the money blew the problem to a much bigger proportion than we would all handle together to begin with, and created a system rooted in a bad foundation based on greed and the idea of MORE is MORE.  So what now?  How does one individual or nation “find themselves” again, like post breakup when you’ve totally lost your way because you were distracted by all the shiny things that you thought loved you back?  How does one go on to influence a ripple of change that is systemic and global?

Well I guess it starts with my own habits, right? Yes!  Let’s start here. from within. and within my own community of networks and people.

So…

What if for one day, I turned off all the lights that I don’t need in order to see, for a moment, an hour, or twelve.

and turned off the tv, and my idle sleeping computer,

what if for one day, I used less water, generated less waste, and composted what can no longer be eaten,

what if I only used things that I can recycle and reuse again?  If I stopped drinking bottled water?

what if I shared my food, heat, and warmth with others,

walked, biked, carpooled or took public transit (when I’m not in NYC of course) or worked up to buying an electric car instead?

Would that be enough?

What if for one day, we all collectively with held from BUYING things, and reused or asked someone to share?  Does one really need more than five? ten? twenty shirts? — what would that do to our inherently theoretically failed economy? to our earth? and to ourselves?

Question is — what would it not do instead?

What if, we all counted our blessings of having clean water and air to breathe instead of expecting it to be owed to us like we’re entitled to it.  What if we asked more questions and taught the younger ones around us to ask questions too?

for one day, we could all come together and just

breathe.

like we do when the entire city is blanketed with snow, or out of power. (or when it rainstorms in Cali and no one goes outside…hahaha…)

What would that feel like if it was more than one day? more than a week? a month? (how long does it take to break bad habits?)

over 30 years ago, the very first Earth Day was the LARGEST movement of marching people that this nation had ever experienced all over the country.  30 years later, instead of cleaning up the garbage we’ve made, we are encouraged to go out and buy more even if they are ‘eco friendly products’ instead of reduce the amount we all don’t need to spend on.  Think about it.

Shopping is not and should not be the national identity of this nation — you do not need to be a consuming monster in order to survive.  Besides, who even has the money now these days?  Shopping doesn’t solve any of your problems, in fact it creates new waste and new problems, and a million more of those stupid “I’m not plastic bag” bags that are ridiculous and costly to produce.

and if you must and are so inclined to buy or need — vote with your dollar, buy smart – support those who are working hard at sustaining themselves through sustainable practices in order to feed you and their families.  Eat REAL FOOD.  I know I work on this actively everyday. I try my best not to buy what I don’t need anymore, and lordie knows I love to shop…

I am human, I try my best too.  But it’s because ‘I care about the World we share.’

and I want my kids to have a world to want to change too.  If I promise to not trash your home, to feed you, and take care of you, can you promise to take care of me and my home too?

It’s time for a new relationship, one with the earth and with other real people who all need to eat too.  Need extra inspiration? be FRESH –

xoxo Happy No Shopping because I love my Earth Day xoxo

J

I recently got hacked.

Thanks for those who are patient enough to keep checking up on my food loving welfare, as I continue to get on top of the game and figure out how to speak this language of love.

We are so engrossed in this info-saturated world these days.  Really, I don’t care about every single little bit of information out there on everyone’s status that is costly and inefficient to sort through.  I’d invite you out to coffee or give you a phone call at the very least if I wanted to catch up on what kind of cereal made your poop five different colours last night.

Or at least in the realm of a blog, I am persuaded to think that I still have a bit more choice in the matter whether or not I want to follow the evolution of your thoughts.

Is this how we’re slowing everyone down these days? By giving them tabloids for the normal people and allowing hyper realities to rule our real world conceptions of politics, infrastructure, and economics?  I know we talk about the SLOW FOOD MOVEMENT all the time, but stop FORCE FEEDING ME BYTE AFTER BYTE of a clusterfuck of useless gossip about drama that didn’t happen an hour ago, four seconds ago, at exactly what location and time zone.

You own the online world G – x to the ten, ten to the hundred.  Now what are you going to do with it?  Online monoculture of droids that input technology and spit out more droids to do more of the same work in order to feed the growing masses? How much more power do you want? and what’s the point?  With that much power, people start acting like bullies, like kids who think life is unfair on the playground.  Can I choose not to play this game anymore when either team doesn’t play fair?  Fighting fire with fire.  Disaster is bound to explode.  And what gets me the most is that choosing to be ignorant now means that I give up my cultural consent to be manipulated and to be treated like a number.  Moreover, in a forceful way that masks my idea of freedom as a national and cultural duty to comply to the capitalistic way of believing my world to be in order to survive.

So excuse me dear reader for my hiatus lately.

I’ve had to redefine my idea of staying on top of it all, and I’ve decided to maintain the safe space that I do have in the privacy of my lil apt in order to stay on top of my game, and it’s one that’s worth playing lately — one that actually keeps me alive in the physical world — and that’s the game I play in my Kitchen.

I protect my right to eat and enjoy my food every day, and sometimes I am more verbal about it than others.  I have been very private at that recently because I am getting tired of the public fight.  It’s the same shit once you understand the system.  The same fights against the same people.  I’m not arguing to be right, I’m not arguing to be heard.  I stir the pot to generate awareness, so it bubbles over enough to make a real mess in order for action to take place.

I have an internal strength, by being sensitive to my surroundings and am learning everyday about what [TO EAT] that works for me.  I feel as though this trust and privacy is what’s lacking in our culture these days.

Every morsel that dances down my throat reminds me that I am alive, that I am here, and am here fighting the good fight.  I appreciate not knowing exactly what happens with the science of my food, but instead trusting my instincts of what’s good for me.  More and more each day I am learning to listen to my body and feed it what it wants in order to feel like I’m conquering my health, myself, and my world by gaining strength in body, mind, and soul.

I inspire you to introspectively appreciate your body too.

Stop pushing it to it’s limits.

and like this blog,

It needs a bit of rest, extra care, and a detox of known toxins.

You need to identify the toxins, and prevent them from entering the system to begin with.  Too often do we think that feeding our body something good after a night of mayhem will balance the damage done.  Perhaps, if you are resilient.  But what about the philosophy of saying No to something you know is so messed up?  What about choosing what’s best and what you need, instead of fulfilling a moment of want and instant gratification?

This is my food space. Here me roar, and I will defend every morsel and byte, like it depends on my life.  In a way, it does, isn’t that what FOOD is for?

Feed your soul something good tonight, whether that is creative or cathartic or just a pure space for you to let it all go and be in the moment.

I appreciate you.

xoxo J xoxo

‘Proof’,… Please.

Add to the conversation instead of making people more confused by just ‘proving’ a point with research that is now obsolete.

I am here endearingly referring to this article on Slate’s “green” section of their online publication.
(sent to me by simon, and linked to me on facebook where ppl don’t want to hear me politically soap box about food.  But herr, hahahaha — this is where jloeats it all up… ;) Thanks,  by the way, for keeping me on my toes friends.)

entitled: Beware the Myth of Grass Fed Beef – Cows Raised on Pasture are Not Immune to Deadly E.coli Bateria

My initial response is two fold.

a) Hmm, who wrote this article?  Seems like he’s already picking a “side” to the argument that’s for or against an issue that isn’t black and white.  It isn’t even giving the idea and philosophy of grass fed beef a chance.  (umm, aren’t cows naturally designed to eat GRASS?!)

b) DUH! that’s like arguing that humans won’t be completely immune to swine flu after the H1N1 vaccine even if they’re are completely healthy.  — E.coli has become a SUPER BUG. it’s a virus that’s getting stronger by the day.  That’s the problem.  People are just trying to attack the problem in different ways, find a quick fix to the system, and then mass produce it so it applies to everyone.  Am I the only one seeing red flags here?!

Ten years ago, advocates started pointing out this problem of grain fed vs. grass fed on all sides of the issue before e. coli was that prevalent of a problem.  The fact of the matter is, that it’s getting worse, and costly recalls are happening more and more frequently.  All sides of the issue need to be looked at in terms of beef production here  – health of consumption, health of the environment, health of the animal, health of the economy with government grain subsides, etc… The movement was mainly advocating for awareness and change, and today, it STILL IS.  We are at a cultural turning point now because it’s not enough for people to just “know” where their food comes from.  What are you doing about it? is the question when you find out how messed up it all is.

Food ‘fads’ that most people react to so strongly against “calling them elite” have developed from this movement, which I believe is what this slate article is really doing since his main point in the end is ‘watch out for these foodie fads that could kill u– “foodie” here used as an against “them” term mentioned at the end.  Sorry but the last time I checked, people respond to people with money, people with resources, and people who are educated.  Isn’t ‘elitism’ in the food movement just another form of ‘glamour’ and stardom’ spun into spaghetti?  A celebrity chef’s recipe mind you…

It just seems so emotional, like he just wants to be heard, that he’s not happy with a counter cultural movement that he doesn’t understand.  (Most slate articles I’ve noticed lean very conservative and always play devil’s advocate for the conventional side – which is great for freedom of choice / freedom of voice, but is now becoming an obsolete argument that just confuses consumers even more about what to eat, since current food education advocacy is all about EQUAL access to JUST food nowadays.  The author has a very “see it’s not better for you argument” instead of stating an alternative, or discussing why beef is a “green” issue right now to begin with.  He also doesn’t mention why conventional beef has been spurring E.coli problems in the recent past, why it’s such an issue of food safety now, which leans towards the huge issue of FOOD SAFETY REGULATION and the sustainability of MASS PRODUCTION, which are the REAL problems in the system, instead of “foodies” trumpeting about grass fed beef.  Simply stating that the other side of the debate as bad, is not a good argument.

And the NEW message for beef? — Whether you eat grass fed or grain fed, everyone should try eating less meat in general.  Both consume tons of energy, both have environmental health costs which subsequently affect all of our health as a meat eating society, and either way you spin it, there are problems in the system that are starting to kill more and more people.  Come on man, get on the bandwagon if you’re going to be dogging on beef.

Also, of course the cows that eat grass fed beef are susceptible to disease (who isn’t?!)

He doesn’t even link any evidence that the recalled meat were pastured cows, only that “research shows” blah blah blah that cows that eat grass can get sick too – well Duhhhh!

Fact of the matter is that the system that humans have practiced for years has now bred superbugs that are immune to our own quick “fixes”, and that the real problem is still finding a soultion to how cows are raised from the demand for feeding so many mouths with meat everyday in this country.  Also what the cow eats, is what we eat.  GMO corn, soy, and other crops are leaking into the system more and more everyday, which decreases the biodiversity and immunity of nature to fend off superbugs through natural selection.  Radiation is killing off any sign for us to identify when foods are going bad.  Short of the long, we are killing all the clues that help us naturally defend against evolutionary changes that are inevitable, and there’s nothing that the average consumer can do about it unless they use their buying power to shift the demand for better meat or demand alternative practices.  Meat has always been a luxurious item, and demands for meat have increased since the beginning of time, since man starting hunting.

PS — His cooking temp argument is also only half correct which again frustrates me because it confuses consumers – all hamburger meat should be Well Done. Any Chef can tell you that. hamburger or “ground meat” is all scrap meat and chances of E. Coli contamination are of course higher since that shit is or has been touching shit literally since slaughtering.  Other parts of the cow butchered for steaks is when you ask for different colours or cooking temps under 160 degrees (well-done).  So whether grass fed or not, considering the average guest at steakhouses ask for 135 -145 degrees (medium-rare), I’m pretty sure that steakhouses order all conventional meat from feedlots unless otherwise noted and the customer is charged for the ‘better’ meat.

again, sure there haven’t been any major recalls for grass fed beef yet – but a return to the grass fed philosophy and practice also calls for better treatment of the cows, their farms are naturally smaller, and where conventional practices lack in regulated checkpoints for E. coli testing is currently where the problem is leaking out into the markets… I can only say that Costco, right now, is the only major business that voluntarily does checks their meat shipments for E. coli contamination.

So…What if this bug keeps mutating and getting stronger? What if it gets worse, because it’s getting worse, and people are still choosing to be blind to it.  What if other viruses haven’t been discovered yet?  What can we do about our practices now that expand our knowledge of food safety for everyone and how do we implement changes in a sustainable way?  Fuck the quick fix.  I want my kids to be able to enjoy food the way I do, and I want them to be smart about it too.  Don’t you?

Let’s work together, for grass fed or not, who cares, the real problem are these superbugs that we’re making stronger.  For food safety and health for all, my goodness.

Choose better beef,

xoxo J xoxo

the docs sent him home from two surgeries earlier on in the month, and with a giant crystal apple in one hand, which represents a lot more than the bain of my travels in the last 24 hours, and leftover xmas turkey in the other, i bust open the door to his apt, and proudly announce my arrival.

he giggles about the crystal apple, and places it on top of his tv, where my high school graduation photo used to stand… yea… of the 14 plus grand kids and 7 great grand children, my face made it up therrr. HAAA. me and my shameless pride. ;) everyone else is on the wall. :)
with no microwave, i steam heat the leftover turkey in the wok like he taught me how eons ago with two chopsticks and a ceramic plate.  I promised my grandpa i’d bring him turkey this year, being the third year in a row since i graduated from culinary school where i’ve been making christmas dinner for my family.

“sick duck la!”
and the best part of my day, hands down, was seeing grandpa race to the table with his lil walker, and slam that bowl down.
gramps killlllled it. and then sat back in his chair, smiling, and holding his belly said: “mmm, ho may!” :) :) :)
“yee mui’s turkey is the best” in chinese.
omg. that made me so warm and fuzzy and giddy all up in herrrr…hahahaha and it just made me realize, that my foodie life is soooo guud.

and as tryptophan is infamous for, i curled up next to my grandpa and napped beside him like i used to do when i was 3 years old.  i still remember vivid memories of waking up next to him and being wrapped in his fruit blanket – for realsies, the fabric was printed blueberries, strawberries, and bananas patterned on a white duvet cover. and i used to trace the outline of the fruit with my little finger when i woke up marveling at its warmth.

My grandfather is actually the first one ever who taught me how to garden. and he was the one who inspired me to cook. He was a chef himself, and used to cook for a living in China, Venezuela, and when he first moved to Canada, in Kingston, ON.

My sister and I used to run around grandpa’s backyard while my parents were at work and play hide and seek through all the plants while my grandmother hung the laundry out to dry on hot summer days.

I asked him where he learned how to garden, and he said that his great grandfather taught him back how when he was a little kid back in the village he grew up in when every family used to grow their own food in the what I assume to be communal lands of the village.  Either that or it was private. My grandfather was orphaned twice, so I’m not sure who that father figure was exactly.  But either way, my roots run deeper than I thought ;) …which was always hard to track as a kid, and even now in trying to trace my own family tree and dig for survival stories.

He began with grafted sweet potato roots, split off into three sprouts, and placed them into the ground.  “Like this one?” as i lifted one off the kitchen counter that my uncle was apparently saving to look at.  He was taught how to build bamboo vine structures to hold up vines for plants like tomatoes and winter melon, just like how he used to do in his own backyard when I was young.  He would teach us how to dig holes in the fertilized soil, which I always remember as a stinky experience while I covered my nose and ran around screaming “ewwww, it smells like poo!” HAHAHAHA…
I always just thought my sister farted and ran away…

Gramps also showed us how to use a rice bowl to scoop soybeans into the dug out holes that I would then cover with dirt and pat down, every other year (which I now understand was to fix the nitrogen into the soil, ahhhh Unagi!!)

So only now do I realize how awesome and cherished these memories are, and how I will and must carry this knowledge on with me to my kids, and the kids I teach about how to grow good food.  I can’t wait to get my own garden and practice! :) hahaha, you know, turn these words into hard earned self grown fruits of labour myself someday, in order to have my food and eat it too :)

Awww, Goong. I luff him so much.  What an incredible man.
So cheers to family this holiday!
…and having the time to spend to get to know my own roots a little bit deeper has been incredible. :)

May your night be full of good food for thought too.
xoxo J xoxo

May this day bring you sweet sweet surprises, a yummy meal full of flavorful family gatherings and nutritious and heart warming  joy. :)

I am a happy camper now, sitting in my parent’s new diggs, white christmas outside, and catching up on my fav nostalgic movies :)

I love that I can kick my feet back now, and say cheers to all the hard work during a crazy hard first semester of food scholarship that just whipped me into shape and left me wanting more.

So, as I put the turkey into the oven, let’s raise our glasses, to a fruitful year that was never short of love, passion, or good times :) CHEERS!!!

Let’s the FEASTING BEGIN!

and if you think I eat every two hours, the Lo’s really eat non -stop!! I’ve only been up for two hours and my belly is already full… and my momma’s getting mad that I’m not eating more! ahhh, what a privileged place to be during the holidays.

enjoy ;) xoxo

It’s starting to smell a lot like Christmas, which means I’m getting more and more nostalgic for good food, warm family gatherings, and the excitement of snow.

It was really cold today – in the minuses which I hadn’t seen since my days in Toronto last winter.

Never the less I was the most surprised today, hitting all emotional plateaus possible, on my journey venturing off into Brooklyn in search for a scintillating (my new favourite word by the way, next to effervescence) conversation with a woman I’ve gotten to know as my boss lady and inspirational leader at my PS146 School Garden Internship.  Thursdays this semester has been  reserved for the refreshing real life practical experience I know I needed and fought to have since the beginning of the semester.  So since I spend so much of my time with my head in books with idealistic arguments and discussions or at the library digging for more research during the rest of the week talking about food, I like to reserve Thursdays for doing my favourite thing, which is learning to process my food life by actually EAT-ing food with good company.

I was brought back down to earth and smiled the biggest smile this week, as my school garden mentor opened her home up to me so warmly in today’s chill that slapped me across my insomniac face the moment I stepped out of my apt, and onto the street.  As per usual, I got off the wrong stop, and got lost (BK is somehow my West Village east of the river – like a Bermuda triangle — hard to find and get to, and hard to leave when you want to) But was met with an incredibly kid friendly and warm heart at the door, when I finally found it.  M showed me in and sat me down at the kitchen table.  “This is my friend M, Janet is an NYU Food Scholar” said like a proud mum.  The kitchen was lit by the sunlight beaming on her incredible family backyard garden through the window.  I was in awe before she even uttered my favourite afternoon word – Lunch!

She placed a plate of the most homey spinach and mushroom fresh tomato lasagna I have ever had tasted, next to a bowl of sauteed beet greens and kale.  Mmm home made food full of love, gimme gimme!! :)

We sat eating and chatting while sitting in the most lived-in posh park slope ikea kitchen well suited for a hip and happening young family in the middle of brooklyn.  Behind me was a wall of food books, putting my newly formed stash to shame.  This was a woman who was well educated, well read, and well versed on how to live hot to grow, eat, and feed. And on top of all of that, she did it all out of love, as a mother of two.

wow.

inspiration comes in many forms, and i couldn’t help but secretly go “I want this too… some day…”

And then, I was propositioned. “Want to go over to L’s house across the street to see her chickens?”

I still had Lasagna in my mouth when I tried to cover up my apprehensive “Surrreee…”

Live Chickens.

We bundled up and walked down the street. L opened the door and showed us straight into the backyard.  Look there’s one laying an egg right now in the wooden hand made nesting coop.  R M’s daughter was running all around the yard after the birds.  She was fearless, and I was jealous of a two year old.  M was laughing and chasing a few trying to catch the birds foraging on the ground bouncing in and out of the chicken coop. “Janet want to hold one?!”

Chicken in my face… “uaaaghhhh!!!!”

I knew this day would come. A day in my career that I would have to face my childhood irrational fear in the eye, and eat it.

haha no just kidding, but at least coexist with the poor animal…

yea, poor me.

Touch it, you can do it, look at those feathers, they’re brilliant! They’re all set for winter, and they’re warm.  They even have feathers on their claws. How silly. Then the hen in L’s arms looked me straight in the eye.  I froze still.

My mind was playing tricks on me now, I was even bartering with myself and my own guilt. “I want to grow, I want to learn, I want to prove that I can handle anything now…Just reach out your hand, ok maybe just a finger…”

But I couldn’t move.

“Janet are you ok? you seem a little traumatized”…

“Umm, yea…”

Flashback to 2nd grade.  30 students sitting outside in the school yard in a circle. Ms Fredrick takes the 3 out of 6 hatched chicks out of the makeshift cardboard box home and into the center of the circle to let them hop around and feel the grass under their two day old claws. I sit nervously, secretly wishing that the chicks don’t come anywhere close to me, as I kept a keen eye on all three fluffy and no longer alien looking wet babies from the incubator, bouncing around in the circle.  Ms. Fredrick looks over at what I can only imagine as a look of horror on my 7 year old face.  “Janet, would you like to hold one?!” If my eyes didn’t widen, I was probably shaking my head profusely.  “Oh come on, they’re soft and fluffy” Teacher lady, do I look like I care how soft they are? Look at those beady eyes! That sharp beak! Those CLAWS! Unless it’s a teddy bear, don’t let those things come near me, or I’ll bolt… And before I knew it, I felt two sharp claws digging into my bare cross legged lap. WHAT THE… I squirm to try to move it off without actually touching it just when Ms. Fredrick plops down behind me (I’m trapped) to take my left arm to turn my palm open. (I don’t like where this is going) She grabbed the chick and put it on my hand.  GET THOSE CLAWS OFF OF MY SKIN! She grabs my right hand and pets the bird with it. “Isn’t it soft?” Hysterical, with snot and tears running down my face by now, I agreed in a soft muddle of a voice that I had left only to get her off my back, literally.  Feeling like that moment would last forever, I closed my eyes, and sat still hoping it was all a dream.  When she finally took the chicken off my hand, I bolted like lightning out of that circle faster than I could regain my sight.  I wiped the tears off my face, took a few deep breaths as Ms. Fredrick turned to Jen my bff sitting beside me who had just had her apprehension confirmed by my hysteria.  She sat wide eyed, jaw dropped, and shocked when she was asked “Do YOU want to hold the chick?” Jen started to cry too, and I returned to the circle to sit next to her.  At that point Ms. Fredrick finally gave up on the both of us and moved onto the other more willing and excited kids.  Embarrassed, vulnerable, and dragging my feet, I looked down the whole time as we moved back inside to our classroom.  Thinking that I was home free, Ms. Fredrick called for everyone not to return to their desks, but to sit in a circle on the magic carpet.  Thinking it was storytime, I happily complied, only to be met with great disappointment when Ms. F decided to see why the other 3 eggs did not hatch. She cracked them into a bowl, and showed the under developed fetuses to the class like it was her special show and tell moment.  “So this is why God didn’t let them hatch, one chick’s leg was wrapped around it’s head…the other two still look like breakfast but with eyes…”

How I even put chicken into my mouth years after that still remains a mystery to me now as an adult, but I guess it didn’t count if they were just McNuggets…

L was still holding the bird, and offered to hand her off to me.  I graciously denied as I stared the bird straight in the eye.  How can such a small animal, muster up so much fear in my mind.  I must learn to let go. and thank my lucky stars that I didn’t have to kill anything today so I could eat.

I scurried back into the living room when L finally put the bird down and invited us into her house.  Luckily, Cleo the family dog followed me as she was over joyed and excited to run around me in circles.  Attention attention attention, love me love me love me, pet me pet me pet me! OK!

“Calm and assertive jlo… calm and assertive, just like Cesar says…Mmm, my hero”

She leaned on me while I pet her for a good ten mins while my heart melted from fear into a puddle of puppy love all over her warm belly and playful paw paw fishing for high fives in the air while her hind leg rested on my knee.  They talked about knitting, mom stuff, and L even offered me a chance to write in the upcoming district school newspaper about all the work I’ve been doing this semester and my assessment with the edible school garden.  Just then, her poor one eyed and jaw broken black cat that sounded like Darth Vader meandered by and walked over to the window sill to stare at the chickens in the backyard.  My thoughts exactly, Let’s go. When I finally got up to leave, half of Cleo’s coat stuck on to my coat, and for the first time, my OCD-ness didn’t care.  Man, if i ever become a mom, my life change completely… Look at all the dog hair! Look at all the toys everywhere! R’s face was covered with chocolate, She was staying home from school because she was coughing, and M was helping ME out with my project in the middle of all this crazy! My mind was racing. Between all the food talk, the animals, brooklyn, and lack of sleep, I was going through major sensory overload — even for a blueman junkie like me!

On our walk back across the street, M expressed that she would miss L soon.

“Why’s that?

“They’re planning on moving out of BK into the burbs to have a bigger family farm, and get goats and stuff… ”

“Wow. How awesome.”

“Yea, she’s the kind of woman who knits her own dish towels too…”

Again, my reality check was connecting all that I’ve been reading about the movement of people growing their own food, and becoming sustainable in an urban area versus the realities of creating a food system for yourself, and relying on the current food system blindly.  Here were two women with families who were doing it all on their own, with pride, with integrity, and a whole lotta flare.

Just then giggling two year old Rita grabbed my hand with the amount of trust that warmed all the voids of my little heart.  We danced, laughed, and twirled down the neighbourhood street that boasted 9 gun shot misfires just last week.  But alas, we were home.  My goodness, what a sweetie, and she didn’t even say a word.
“I swear she can talk”
Actually, her non stop laughter is what I preferred. and I could’ve listened to her giggles all day.

Digestive Chocolate Cookies, Tea, and a Two Hour Interview later, R streaked through the house after she had so patiently played by herself destructing her older sister’s tower of love in the massive pile of toys in the living room.
It filled my heart with joy,
she was flirting with me,

she wanted to play, and i played along too.

Nnnnnnnnnnaked baby!!!!!!!

I couldn’t help but smile too.
and laugh along,
at how free she was
at how unbelievably uninhibited she was
and how excited she was to run around her own space, comfortable,
naked, and without a single care in the world.

and for a moment, i joined her and basked in that careless moment too.

and we laughed some more.

It was inspiring.

I wouldn’t have chose to spend my Thursday of this crazy pre finals week any other way.

When it was time to go, I smacked my lips to say goodbye to the hundreds of little fishies in the three separate tanks that filled the foyer.
M sent me packing with a fresh baked loaf of bread wrapped up.  She also lent me two food books.  I graciously thanked her over and over again for the incredible sense of time well spent, and found my way back onto the train – Manhattan bound once again.

One of the two books was The Edible Schoolyard by Alice Waters.

“This is what I aim for, this is my inspiration” – M.  Like reading Harold McGee to see what inspired Alton Brown, I felt like I had just been given the secret code to a secret food world filled with the kind of strong independent womanly Mom love that I have been so desperately searching for.

I cracked it open like the loaf of bread, and her subtle yet soft intro to her story,
written in the simplest way was like finding the soft warm center.  It was so easy to get lost in my imaginary world of someone doing good in the land of California, my once promiseland,
as more weathered New Yorkers with frozen brisk and daunting expressions joined me on the train back into the crowded & crazy city.

The exit pops me out right into the middle of the union sq holiday market.
singers, bells, xmas lights, and presents all around,

aghh, back into the land of consumption.  Any other time in my life, I would have ended this day with some major shopping therapy, but I decided to run into the whole foods across the street to (ironically) buy some eggs instead. “Hopefully there would be no eyes when I make breakfast tomorrow” … ha ha ha, awww…  and I found a fair trade hand made scarf for my momma for xmas.

Thus for all the times I complain about agribusiness and the cold realities of what seems like a broken food system driven by survival and greed, this post is for all the full-time Mom’s out there who work to feed their families with nothing but love each and every day, no matter what it takes.  I solute you, you are strong, you are beautiful, and you are an inspiration in the most quiet ways sometime.  Just like the chicken, I fear realizing that some day I too will be in the same shoes, laying my own eggs and hoping for the best, even though I fear for your future as a momma bird doing what it takes to survive and our future searching for the best food possible for our young. But all in all, I appreciate you, for everything you have taught me yesterday, today, and tomorrow about how to live.

*Thanks for All the LOVE over the years of fighting to keep me well and happy MOMMA. ;)

Lufff youuuuu

xoxo J xoxo