Fire Feasting on the Farm
Remember how I was saying that we’re in peak summer? Well, last night at Pitney Meadow Community Farm was a stunning reminder of just how delicious summer can be.
Three hundred people gathered together under the high tunnel to support the vision for this property to become a hub of small-scale sustainable farming education and training. We also gathered to taste some incredible food prepared by some world class chefs from all over the country, who came up to Saratoga for some live fire cooking of local, seasonal, and sustainable products.
Chef Michael Lapi was behind sourcing the proteins, Josh Coletto designed the fire pits, and John Sconzo worked to secure the culinary talent. And these were just a few of my favorite people who were there.
A play by play of the food would take forever, so instead I’ll just share some of my favorites from the evening. But do yourself a favor. Follow Pitney Meadow Community Farm on Facebook, because if they do something like this again, you’re not going to want to miss it.
Butter Fried S’mores
I still hate s’mores. Fundamentally, nothing has changed. If you want to read the original rant, you can either go back in the archive to the very first month of the blog in May 2009, or you could just simply click here.
This hatred isn’t new. It’s been around for a long, long time.
Perhaps, in some ways my ire has softened over the years. Perhaps you’ll recall my relatively recent admiration for the s’mores cocktail served at the Cookies & Cocktails fundraiser for Girl Scouts of Northeastern New York.
But it’s summer. Actually, now that it’s August, people are starting to talk about summer coming to a close. Stop it. This is peak summer. Enjoy the hell out of it. Thinking about the end will only diminish the joy the next few weeks can bring.
Invariably, someone will want to make s’mores. So I thought, despite my aversion to this beloved summer treat, that I would share another story from the lake house.
Star Farmers
Every now and again it’s good to have a reminder that farm-to-table isn’t just a marketing slogan. There’s a reason why the phrase is overused and and getting tired.
That’s because the premise is a powerful one.
The idea behind food purity and food integrity resonates with people. Pluck a tomato ripe off the vine, slice it up, sprinkle it with salt, and eat while it’s still warm from the sun. It’s simply glorious. In a world where tomatoes can be grown on the other side of the planet, picked while green, packed into shipping containers, and gassed until they turn a marketable shade of red, going back to the old foodways is a compelling notion.
But like all good ideas, the battle cry of farm-to-table has been coopted. And it’s wise to look closely at those espousing these ideals, because not everyone walks the walk. Much like the organic label, farm-to-table is at risk of losing its meaning.
However, this past weekend was a great reminder of the potential behind the promise.
The Structure and Function of Pizza
This may seem hard to believe, but I really do have good qualities. You know, as a human being and all. It’s true. But letting go of things has never been one of my strong suits.
I think if I were doing a SWOT analysis, “letting go of things” might appear in three of the four quadrants. Well, I guess the threat-quadrant would contain, “failure to let go of things.” But you get the idea. Certain thoughts just get stuck in my head, so I apologize in advance for another rant on pizza.
If you recall, just a couple of days ago, I thought about scuttling Dan Gentile’s Thrillist post on why one shouldn’t fold pizza, point by point. But instead, I laid out my own manifesto on when it’s appropriate to fold a slice of New York style pizza.
Life is all about nuance.
But still, there were points in Mr. Gentile’s post that went unaddressed. One paragraph especially really got under my skin. So, even though I’ve been advised to let this drop, you’re going to hear one last final screed on pizza this week. Hope you’re sitting down, because here’s what Thrillist published.
Berry Lucky
Do you know what today is? It’s Mrs. Fussy’s birthday! Do you know what we’re going to do? Well, neither do I.
Adult birthdays when you have young kids seem to take on a different shape than the birthdays of our early adult lives. These days, we try to focus on one thing that we want to do, instead of planning an entire weekend to commemorate the passing of another trip around the sun.
Maybe part of that is because when you are young, each new year brings new experiences and extends your horizons. But as you grow older, each year you seem to be hurtling faster and faster towards the inevitable.
Oops. That got dark fast.
Well, this year I asked Mrs. Fussy what she wanted for her birthday. She thought about this long and hard. Her first thoughts were towards cake. But as she pondered all the options, they all sounded too heavy.
The verdict in the end, was pie. But that’s just where the story begins.
On Folding Pizza
Last week, something awful was brought to my attention. I almost don’t want to share it, lest the article get any further attention. But it got me so riled up that I think the only thing to do is to shine a spotlight on it, and point out all the ways it’s wrong.
It’s not an accident that today’s post follows the one on blotting the deliciousness away from pizza. Both manners of eating pizza were recently discussed in a Facebook group to which I subscribe.
But there is only so much one can do within the boundaries of a Facebook response. This is one of the times when it’s great to have your own blog.
Did you see the Thrillist post when it came out over a year ago which attempted to demonize the very reasonable practice of pizza folding? Well, here it is in all of its wrongness.
Now, let’s begin.
Big Movies Little City
Usually, I’m happy to make a definitive stand on a ridiculous principle. More than happy. Some might even say it’s my calling. I care deeply about things that aren’t on most people’s radar, and I’m okay with that.
That explains yesterday’s rant about blotting pizza, and perhaps past rants about spoons and lettuce.
I still don’t live in Troy, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about the city. I do. In fact, I care about it a great deal. Largely, because it’s been the heart of culinary innovation in the Capital Region for the past few years, and I’ve loved watching its growth over time.
But Wednesday, it looks like there is going to be a big decision, and I just can’t figure out how I feel about a big blocky modern movie theater being built in Monument Square.
Stripping The Goodness From Pizza
We can talk for hours, if not days, about the things that makes pizza great. You could break it down into its component parts, like the crust, sauce, and toppings. I’m a crust man myself. Or you could talk about the quality of the ingredients, like fine milled flour, imported tomatoes, and whole milk mozzarella. You could make the argument for commitment to craft and investing in the proper tools for the job.
But fundamentally, the thing that makes pizza delicious is far more simple. Hold onto your hats. Because it’s two things, and they are the same two things that make any restaurant food taste better than cooking at home.
They are fat and salt. Period.
Let’s take salt out of the equation for a second. I want to focus on fat. Delicious, delicious, buttery fat. That fat may be suspended in the shreds of mozzarella cheese, or they may be contained in any one of the toppings that graces your pie. Especially those ever popular pepperoni rounds that are little more than deeply seasoned fat slices.
So if fat is what makes pizza delicious, it’s madness to remove any of it from a slice.
Shaking the Sunday Blues
Does anyone have a traditional nine to five Monday through Friday job anymore? I don’t think that’s still a thing. Yet ideas like the weekend still exist, as do long standing traditions about the days of the week.
Monday still sucks. Wednesday is still hump day. Friday still marks the weekly finish line.
One of the lingering holdouts of the five day, forty hour work week is the idea of Sunday afternoons, which are always problematic. I suppose that for some people there are sports to watch in front of the television, which may or may not be an excuse to drink beer, eat chips, and yell at the TV.
But the Sunday blahs are real, even for those who don’t have a traditional schedule. And last Sunday I found myself a bit down in the dumps. However, thanks to social media, I found a path to contentment and serenity that I thought I should share in advance of another pending weekend.
Cooking Is Cleaning
Yesterday was about farms. We need farms. Because we need food. But once we get raw ingredients, most of them still need to be cooked.
Cooking isn’t like breathing. It doesn’t come naturally. It’s something that has to be learned. And that means it’s something that has to be taught. I’m doing my best by occasionally bringing my kids in the kitchen so they can see how it’s done. But kids sometimes require a level of patience that I just don’t have, especially when I’m cooking.
Know thyself. Right? There is a reason I send the kids off to school instead of homeschooling them. And God bless those parents who have the patience and temperament to teach their children how to cook.
I wish I could remember the name of the chef who said it, but I once came across a brilliant line about kids and cooking. The gist of it was that if you teach kids how to cook without teaching them to clean up after themselves in the kitchen, all you’ve done is given them a new and creative way to make a big mess.
So today, I want to take a little departure from the block and tackle of the blog and talk a bit about cleaning.
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