Farm Parties
Farmers. God bless them. I’m serious.
On the one hand, it’s easy to fetishize farmers. I’m guilty of that.
On the other hand, it’s easy to vilify them. I’m guilty of that too.
Regardless of whether a farmer is big or small, conventional or biodynamic, local or abroad, without farmers we would have no food. We would have no beer. We would have no coffee. The physical work is strenuous, the emotional strain is taxing, and the payoff isn’t great. There’s always a tremendous amount of risk and uncertainty. So it’s probably no surprise that their numbers get smaller every day.
But there are bright spots. And there are organizations dedicated to help support farming and farmers. Today, I want to tell you a little bit about two local ones, and share how going to a party or two can improve the state of farming in New York.
To make the deal even sweeter, the parties might provide the best food you’ve had all year.
The Ice Cream Tour Will Not Be Televised
Okay. I finally sat down to look at my calendar. My summer schedule is a mess. The number of days that I can make the Tour de Hard Ice Cream work, is something like one. One day. So dammit, that’s when we’re going to do it.
Saturday, August 19. Save the date.
It’s still too early to announce the stops of the tour. The nomination post is still alive and well somewhere, so when we get closer I’ll put a route together. But there was something else on a related topic that I ran across recently, so I thought I would share it.
Worse Than Cooking Cooked Shrimp
Well, that was unexpectedly fun! Thanks to everyone who left a comment on Friday after watching the Amazon ad for the Dash Wand with Alexa. There was clearly a lot of wrong in that video.
There seemed to be a plurality of people who noticed the cooked shrimp being thrown into the dry pan to cook further, and thought that was the worst offender. Great catch, but the abuse of seafood wasn’t what got me all hot and bothered.
Sure, every adult should know how many ounces are in a cup. But even if you don’t, and even if you are using a dry measuring cup to measure Champagne, so long as you have a cup measure and your recipe calls for a cup, what does it matter? Well, I suppose it’s a nifty trick the Alexa stick can do.
Congrats to PrincesMegE who happened to notice that the seven items in the cart equalled a whopping 47 dollars. But to be fair, it’s clear from the get go that this couple has more money than time or taste.
But I still contend there is one thing that is even worse than all of the above.
What’s Wrong With This Video
Hey, it’s Friday! It’s July. We should play a game, but before we do, let me give you some context.
Last week, Mrs. Fussy came across this ad on YouTube and showed it to me. And there was one moment that I was absolutely horrified. Yes, there are a lot of things that are wrong with this picture. But one really takes the cake.
What I’m wondering is if you can find it. Just to make sure it wasn’t just me, I showed the video below to a few of my friends in the lake house. And one found it almost immediately. Granted, it took her a second viewing.
But once you see it, you can’t unsee it. Which isn’t to say you have to look hard for it at all. The offending action is clear and in plain sight.
For those who don’t want to be exposed to commercial messages on the FLB, I’m embedding the video after the jump. Read more…
The Juicy Middle of Price to Value
Let’s look back for a moment. When I first came to the Capital Region ten years ago, there was a lot of complaining about the food scene. Granted, a lot of that was coming from me. Sometimes over the years the nuance of one’s arguments fades away, and all that remains are the echoes.
My long time gripe has never been that there was no good food in the area. My issue was that both the food and overall restaurant experience wasn’t good enough for the prices being charged.
The evaluation of price to value ratios takes up more of my bandwidth than I care to admit.
For example, I consider myself far too sensible to ever buy a new car, or to take a loan to buy a used car. Instead, I went without a car until I could save up enough cash to buy a reliable used car outright. Paying interest on a depreciating asset seems like a terrible idea.
But lately there has been a category that has obliterated my objectivity when it comes to looking at price to value ratios. In part, this has to do with pricing schemes. But the other has to do with where I peg the baseline.
Confused? Well, I’m going to show you some numbers. But first, here’s a story.
New Cravings in New Haven
Typically on these summer vacations, three families rent a house someplace near a body of water, and we take our time exploring the local towns and experiencing some local color. You know, when we actually leave the house.
But we all have kids, and they are growing up. This year the very oldest is starting to look at colleges. So when the unusual suggestion was floated of taking a day trip to visit Yale in New Haven, I jumped on it.
Heck, yeah. Actually, I might want to spend all my future vacations in New Haven. In part because I may have just found my perfect hamburger.
The Madness of New York Liquor Laws
There is a voice in my head telling me not to complain. It says, “Be happy for the good things you have, and don’t focus on the things that you lack.”
But here we are. In a vacation house. Three families. One from New York. One from New Jersey. One from D.C. Once again, this annual vacation among friends finds us in New York. Last year we were up in the Adirondacks. This year we’re closer to the things of man further south in the Hudson Valley.
One of the great joys of these trips are the excursions for hunting and gathering. Mostly these involve exploring the regional markets, looking for delicious things to bring to the homestead, that can somehow be incorporated into meals for twelve people.
Somewhere at a farmers market in Dutchess county we found a small batch traditional Lithuanian honey liqueur producer who was pouring both samples of the spirit, and tastes of a cocktail she whipped up.
There’s no two ways about this. It’s awesome. And one thing is also very clear. Allowing beer, wine, and spirits sales at farmers markets has not unraveled the fabric of our society.
Which as far as I can tell means the Governor has some explaining to do.
Milking Corn For All It’s Worth
The Profussor is on vacation. With nothing more than his family, his wits, a sack of meat from Chester’s, and a seven pound loaf of rye bread.
Okay. There are probably a few more things involved in this vacation. There’s a house by a lake. A couple of families we have known for many many years. Oh, and there is also a mouse who was totally not invited, but seems to be sticking around despite our attempts of spreading poison everywhere.
On an average day there are twelve people in this rental house. This is the fourth year we’ve done something similar, so some of the required tasks and division of labor have become routine.
Cooking for twelve on a daily basis is no small feat. But one of the things I love about coming together with this group every year is that you get to learn other people’s recipes. Last night we had Raf come over with his family, and they added another recipe to the regimen.
The Walking Dead
There’s a reason that I got my fathead sandwich from The Flying Chicken last week. It was because I suspected something might go wrong in the last 48 hours and I might not be able to make it into the restaurant.
My plan last night was to grab some chicken after the event at Albany Center Gallery. And everything was going well, until I checked Facebook to see that the restaurant had sold out of chicken for the night.
Good for them. Bad for me.
I suppose I could have gone for chicken instead of attending Creative Restauranteurs: A Conversation at Albany Center Gallery. But the panel featured Vic Christopher, Corey Nelson, and Ric Orlando who were there to support the photography exhibition created by Richard Lovrich. And dammit, I was curious to hear what they were going to say and I really enjoy Richard’s portraits.
What I wasn’t prepared for was the surprise special guest.
The Hostess With the Mostest
Perhaps one day I’ll so some stories on entertaining. But the truth of the matter is that we don’t do much entertaining at home. That of course wasn’t the case last night. Last night my mom came in from Providence with her husband, and I cooked her a birthday dinner.
When your mother requests hamburgers and hotdogs, you cook hamburgers and hotdogs.
The burgers were done on the gas grill outside, and I did the hotdogs upstate New York style. I’m not actually sure that’s a thing, but the technique I picked up from watching the folks at Famous Lunch involves moving the weiners around on a warm surface to soften the interior fat and tighten the exterior casing. This is how you make ‘em juicy with a nice snap.
Grilling is still a challenge for me on this crappy gas grill, but I’m starting to get the hang of it. Part of the solution has involved making a modification to the grill itself. Surely what I’ve done violates some kind of product warranty and might be ill advised. But it makes a particularly delightful crust on the outside of my burgers.
Anyhow, today isn’t about being a host or hostess at all. But my mother is still a part of the story, because today we’re going back into the distant past when I was just a small kid living in New York. Oddly, one of the most vivid taste memories of my summer childhood involves Hostess fruit pies.
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