Greens!

Announcing the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention's Vegetable of the Month:

A few fun facts about greens, some of which are sure to be asked during the Jeopardy episode in which you are a contestant:

• Greens, such as collards and kale, are spookily cabbage-like, yet they are distinct members of the Brassica Oleracea family in that they do not form a compact head, as do cabbages and people.
  
• If you'd prefer not to get cancer, eat a lot collard greens, kale, mustard greens, Swiss chard and broccoli rabe. They're loaded with antioxidants, which, according to the National Cancer Institutue, "may protect cells from the damage caused by unstable molecules known as free radicals", and such damage may lead to cancer.
• Eating Black-eyed Peas on New Year's Day is thought to bring good luck. Eating collard greens are believed to bring wealth.

I have an unnatural fondness for "X of the Month"-type observances, the sillier or more obscure the better. PR professionals across the for- and non-profit spectrum don't hesitate to abscond with some week or month to remind us that their disease, foodstuff, or potential hazard should be foremost in our minds, at least for that prescribed period of time. I like to do my part to support their efforts. Watch this space for updates on other important agricultural products, maladies, and hobbies of which you should be aware.

For more fun, compelling information about leafy greens, check out these resources:

• Letting Leafy Greens into Your Life, from NPR
• Cruciferous Crusaders trading cards
• Will it blend?

What I did on my summer vacation

Before my memory fails, I offer a compendium of random pictures and commentary from our fabulous, fun-filled, fancy and mostly free trip to New York and New Jersey.

New York reminded me how a highly accessible, extensive public transit system can transform one from a car slug to totally mobile urban animal. I miss that. Growing up in Kansas, I was legion among the few, mainly the poor and developmentally disabled, who used public transportation (in part, because of my brother's refusal to drive me to school in effusive snowstorms. Way to go with the tough love, Kevin). Moving to Boston was a revelation, making a large city small. Today in Seattle, we're still waiting for our light rail, bitterly wistful for the monorail we voted for and didn't get, while driving to the ball park we voted down, but got anyway.




Other highlights:

*Arriving at Penn Station in New York City at 5pm. People literally ran to their trains through labyrinthine underground stations, swiftly and efficiently, without collisions, swearing, or stalling. To translate for Seattleites, it was the opposite of Bumershoot.

*The cozy, dreamy Brooklyn home of our generous hosts, Michael and Celena. I decided that we have East and West coast parallel lives, each of us with two cats, a pug, a musician, and a Latina.

*Lunch at the Oyster Bar with Greg and Celena, after a tour of the United Nations.

*Chinatown and Little Italy. Lots of foodie eye candy, knock-off handbags, tchochkes, and colorful characters.

*New York Public Library. (dorky librarian note: you can take advantage of NYPL's collections, even if you don't live there, via their fabulous digital library).

*Central Park and the Museum of the City of New York. We learned about the days when the Yankees, Dodgers, and Giants dominated baseball, and how one of the world's richest city is founded on beaver pelts.

*The Richard Serra exhibit at the Museum of Modern Art. Watch the video showing how they got huge slabs of steel in there. Note: visiting a major museum on the last days of a special exhibit is similar to the Penn Station at rush hour, but with Bumbershoot thrown in.

*The Mastrull/Greco/Sinibaldi family reunion in New Jersey. What stereotypes do you hold about New Jersey Italian-American families? Loud, ball-busting bocce players with thick accents and big appetites? Yep, and proud of it, thank you very much. They're also warm, generous, welcoming, funny as hell, and serve up large volumes of damn good food.

Hot dog!

Only a few more days to blow your diet during National Hot Dog Month! A few factoids about America's favorite refrigerated processed meat:

In 2006, more than 730 million packages of hot dogs were sold at retail stores (oh, but that doesn't include Wal-Mart, which doesn't report sales data). Good golly!

In 2004, the Mad Cow scare prompted the USDA to prohibit the use of mechanically separated meat (MSM). Now what on earth is MSM? It's paste-like meat product produced by forcing bones, with attached edible meat, under high pressure through a sieve to separate the bone from the edible meat tissue. But don't worry about mechanically separated pork or poultry...they're perfectly safe, and a great source of calcium!

Now if you really want to start drolling, take a peek at the menu at Pink's, the world-famous dog joint in Los Angeles. And don't miss the Martha Stewart dog, a full 10 incher with relish, onions, bacon, chopped tomatoes, sauerkraut & sour cream.

I can hear you asking, "aren't there alternatives to mass-produced franks, made from factory-farmed animals, packed with nitrates, binders, and fillers?". Yee-haw, you bet! Small family farms all around the country are raising beef and pork organically, humanely, and sustainably, and making tasty sausages that you can order direct from the farm. Check out these resources for sniffing out family farms, markets, and restaurants for sustainable, healthy food in your region:

Local Harvest
The New Farm

Tortillas

Inspired by Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver and fam, I've been thinking more about eating seasonally, locally, and thereby, more healthfully and flavorfully. We're already living rather simply, but sometimes I cut corners in ways that compromise the quality of our meals. We're not eating packaged ramen or mac & cheaze, but the wine has been getting cheaper and I occasionally venture into Grocery Outlet for whatever good stuff I can find on the cheap (recent finds include frozen edamame originally from Whole Foods and anchovies for .99/tin).

But Kingsolver and her co-authors helped me rethink my notion of organic, local eating as an elite luxury for those with excess discretionary income. They demonstrate that making one's own bread and cheese isn't out of reach to everyone but Martha, and that buying seasonally at farmer's market can bring gems of the garden even with my cheap-o spending habits.

So today I took a pleasant walk to our neighborhood's farmers' market and brought home a few budget goodies. One of these days, I'm going to bring home a bushel of something and preserve it for culinary luxury into fall (likely, tomatoes, basil, or something else that's overpriced and underflavored at the grocery store). Next, my plan is to experiment with making my own sandwich bread, tortillas, and queso blanco. I started with the tortillas, the least demanding of the three.

This pleasant labor threw me back to when I was a kid, helping my Grandma Cabrales make tortillas back in Augusta, Kansas. Her movements were second-nature, swift, and gentle. She would roll the soft dough into little balls, quickly knead them with her thumbs to form little discs, roll them out thin, then pat them back and forth between her hands before slapping them on the griddle. My method wasn't so well-practiced, my rolling pin too big, and my dough too glutinous. I wish could consult her, or at least watch her at this task that she likely performed most of her adult days.

What's Cooking Grandma? is an online video project where you can upload video of your grandmother making your favorite recipes to preserve the moment, method, recipe, and memories. I wish I had such a document of my grandmother making tortillas, sopa, tripe. What do you wish you could see your grandmother making?

Inspiration for a cynic

Recently, I read that one only need scratch the surface of a cynic to find the wounded idealist underneath. How true for me. Somedays, ok, MOST days, the cynic is my dominant voice. But occasionally, the idealist struggles through the sticky, slimely viscera, like Ripley writhing around in Alien Resurrection, breaking through, giddy and cheerful. A few things that elicited recent emergences:

Beverly
Remembering, even in grief, a great artist who's touched me can bring out my idealist. Beverly Sills died a few weeks ago, a rare classical musician well-known by the general public. I first remember hearing Sills in duet with Miss Piggy on the Muppet show, and the last time I saw her was as emcee for the Metropolitan Opera's movie theater simulcast of Tan Dun's world premier, The First Emperor. In both instances, she was smart, witty, accessible. She'll also be remembered as a staunch advocate for the arts. Listen to her recent commentary on NPR's Marketplace, where she explained to corporate donors, "I'm not just asking for your money, I want your body too".

Julia
Another favorite witty woman with a sweet, sharp tongue, the recently departed Julia Child. After reading, My Life in France by Ms. Child, and Julie and Julia by Julie Powell, I had to get my hands on The French Chef, her TV show for WGBH in Boston, 1963-1973, (Emeril and Rachel, bow down in humility and gratitude). I can hardly count the laughing-out-loud moments watching Julia edify me with her passion, skill, and experience. Last night's episodes included a graphic description of the various types of tripe, and the sad but probably very tasty demise of a 20 lb. lobster named Big Bertha. At one point in her show on potatoes, she got a bit overheated, grabbed a handful of paper towels and vigorously wiped down her face as if she was an NBA star (I'm sure she could have dunked). I love her!

A few other random things that perk me up when I'm feeling goopy:

Artist's dates
The Henry Art Gallery at the University of Washington never fails to surprise, interest, and inspire me. And this summer, admission is free all the time for everyone, June15-Labor Day.

My animals
The felines (Jackson, left, and Bob), posing here as bad-asses, have surprisingly little baggage for their age. And they keep the canine in line.

Happy hour
Need I say more?

Fremont Fair

C'mon down and join the wackiness af the 36th annual Fremont Fair. Not your usual meandering crowds, what with all the art cars and naked cyclists. A couple of tips for maximum solstice pleasure:

• Take the bus: Fremont isn't a fun parking neighborhood even without a parade and 50,000 people descending upon a few unzoned parking spots. Besides, part of the fun of Seattle fairs is riding the bus with the good-natured, motley crowds with whom you're about to meander and eat funnel cakes.
• Contribute: bring a few extra bucks, if you've got them. Donations go to Solid Ground, a local organization working to eradicate poverty. Meander with a cause.
  
• Snack smart: partake of kettle korn with kaution. That stuff is like krack.
• Wear layers: bring sunscreen, rain jacket, and a down parka . You might need any or all at any given time. Seriously, it's going to be a beautiful weekend (please, oh please).
• Meet and greet: lots of civic organizations will be participating in the fair, and they'd love to chat with you about their missons and programs. They're so enthusiastic and inspiring, you might even consider volunteering for one of them! A few of my favorites that'll be on hand: Literacy Source, Feral Cat Spay/Neuter Project, ACLU of Washington, Planned Parenthood of Western Washington, Habitat for Humanity, and Amnesty International.
• Listen up: check out the music schedule and dance with abandon. A couple of groups that that I'm looking forward to: Cherry Cherry (Neil Diamond tribute); Purty Mouth, (gay country); Ibrahima Camara and Safal (sambar music of Senegal).
  

I'll see you there! Look for me on the far west end of N. Canal Street, conveniently located near a beer garden and the Waterfront stage.

Junk trek

I like junk. My special affinity is for rusty old washers. They call to me from gutters and parking lots. I bring them home to my little studio where I clean them up and pair them with a handcrafted chain of glass beads and copper. The graphic shapes, the heaviness and patina juxtapose beautifully with gleaming, brightly colored glass.

But unlike other jewelry-making supplies, I can't order rusty washers online. Their bright shiny cousins are cheap and in great supply at the hardware store, but like an unripe banana or a young bottle of wine, they don't have the same rich flavor or history. I find them one at a time in my daily wanderings, but as the selling season accelerates, I need to stock up. Occasionally, Greg and I trek out to search for supplies at a railyard or parking lot in an industrial area. This week, we chose the rainiest day in recent memory, bundled up in Goretex, and set out to hunt for booty.

In spite of the mud and rain, our search was fruitful, yielding a critical mass of rusty washers, an easily repaired handtruck, and $.43 in pocket change. Greg suggested that I experiment with ways to integrate cigarette butts into my jewelry. These expeditions for precious junk do make me a little nervous, though. I worry that police will inquire why we're wandering, heads-down, along a railroad or abandoned building. I worry that we'll inadvertently interrupt the displaced as we cheerfully look for trinkets in hidden spots that people use for eating, drinking, or shelter, their detritus signaling their activities long after their departure.

After a long, wet afternoon, we stumbled upon the best find of the day, Andy's Diner, a restaraunt comprised of old railroad cars. Its charming wood-panelled walls, long-narrow dining rooms, and cozy booths set the stage for a wonderfully conventional menu. The next time we have something to celebrate, such as it's Tuesday, I want to dress up and go to Andy's, find a romantic corner in the Sidetrack Room (I love anyplace that has a separate name for its cocktail bar) and order a Manhattan, prime rib and baked potato. OK, so I'm a vegetarian and have never liked steak, but it just seems like the thing to do.