The Tale of Pelops

For those who are scratching their heads and wondering aloud, "What in the world is a Pelops? And how exactly do you prepare it??" I offer a tale of mischief and woe that doesn't involve any actual food at all. (Can you tell that I'm trying to heighten the dramatic effect?)

Our story begins in the legends of ancient Greece - specifically, some time in the Iron Age. Around that time, Pelops was born to a king within Anatolia (modern-day Turkey) named Tantalus. Tantalus was a skilled chef and cultured epicurean. Those who tasted his cooking exclaimed that it could be a feast for the gods. Eventually, these gleeful cries of delight floated up, up to Mount Olympus, where the ever-curious and constantly meddling gods overheard them. Intrigued by the possibility of a meal more succulent than ambrosia, they ordered Tantalus to prepare for them his finest meal. Panicked by the very real possibility that he could disappoint them, he began scheming - and soon came up with an idea for a very special stew. He would slice up his son, Pelops, boil him with all the typical vegetable additives, and serve it as his Perfect Feast.

The gods, of course, caught on to his plot and restored Pelops to life, albeit sans his left shoulder, which was replaced with sculpted gold. (Poor Demeter, distraught over the loss of her daughter Persephone, had absentmindedly eaten it before she could be stopped.) The gods banished Tantalus to Hades, and even though he stands in a pool of water and grapes hang over his head, he is cursed with constant thirst and starvation. For when he bends down to take a drink, the water recedes; when he reaches to pick a grape, they coyly move just beyond his grasp. Pelops, meanwhile, moved to a district in Greece,* married a princess, had close to a dozen children and lived well until his death.

I suppose the original meaning of the parable was something about cannibalism, but I suggest that it also has a more relevant meaning for our current society. Perhaps we are all feasting on Pelops now - no, not our sons and daughters (ewwww), but instead our cheap, processed, efficiency obsessed, additive laden semi-food. Food for thought, I suppose. And a mythology lesson to boot! :)

*For those of us that are history geeks, you may note that this story never really took place in Greece at all; it occurred in some other kingdom, probably that of the Phrygians. It does occur where modern Greece is now, though.

Dark Days Challenge '08 - '09

I spend a lot of time tooling around on the Internet - a lot. I browse Google Finance, online news sources, blogs about chickens / gardening / eating local, webcomics, etc. While completing my allotted tooling-around time a week or two ago, I came across this wonderful blog: Urban Hennery (which is, now, a not so Urban Hennery since the blogger has moved to a small farm outside the city). It combines information about eating locally, gardening, cooking, and raising chickens - so, of course, it's perfect reading in my opinion. If you are at all interested in the aforementioned subjects, I highly suggest that you check it out.

And when you do, head over to the Dark Days 08 - 09 Tab at the top of the website. It details the annual challenge to eat at least one local meal a week during the winter - no small task when it regularly freezes in your neck of the woods. I've decided to participate, and hopefully I'll discover some interesting ways to eat local in the cold, dark, and wet Midwestern winter. I've decided on some personal rules for this challenge, sort of a pre-New Year's Eve resolution:

1. For the purpose of this challenge, local food is grown/raised within a 200 mile radius. I probably won't have to go that far, but I'd like to give myself as much room as possible this winter, since it's much harder to eat locally between growing seasons. I'll keep you updated on how far I actually have to drive to get my local meal.
2. Even on days when I am not eating local food, I will still cook my own meals. It's been difficult lately to do so, what with the two jobs and the twelve hour work days. Cooking in bulk will help, though (not to mention be nicer to my budget).
3. These meals will be mostly plant-based. While I am certainly not a vegetarian, I have come to the conclusion that meat is a treat, not a staple of our diet.
4. That being said, if my weekly local meal features delicious grass-fed lamb or cattle this winter, I'll be ecstatic. Honestly, how could I not? My mouth waters at the thought.

That's pretty much it! Check in later this week for an update about my first local meal of the winter.

I'm-a-Dirty-Hippie Bread

Since I claimed in the previous post that baking from-scratch bread at home is as easy as 1-2-3, I thought I would prove it and share one of my favorite recipes. I call it my Dirty Hippie Bread, because it's filled with whole wheat and nuts and molasses and other healthy stuff. Hardy stuff, for sure - one slice of this bread almost fills you up like it's the entire meal! Perfect for dipping in soup or with eggs in the morning, it's definitely versatile and oh-so yummy!

Dirty Hippie Bread
Preheat oven to 375 degrees F (190 degrees C).
1/2 cup warm water
1/3 cup unsweetened applesauce
3 tablespoons active dry yeast

Stir together the 1/2 cup water and applesauce in a small bowl. Dissolve the yeast in the mixture, let stand until creamy, about 5 minutes.

3 1/2 cups warm water
1/2 cup honey
1/2 cup molasses
1/2 cup butter
3 tablespoons lemon juice
2 eggs, beaten

Pour the yeast mixture into a large bowl containing the warm water, honey, molasses, vegetable oil, lemon juice, and eggs; stir together to combine well.

10 cups sifted whole wheat flour
1/2 cup ground flax seed
1 cup quick cooking oats
1/2 cup sunflower seeds
3/4 cup cracked wheat
1/2 cup raisins (optional)
1 tablespoon sea salt

In a separate bowl, combine the whole wheat flour, flax seed, oats, sunflower seeds, cracked wheat, raisins, and salt. Stir the flour mixture into the yeast mixture until a smooth dough forms. The original recipe suggested that kneading is necessary here, but I doubt that's possible with how gooey the dough is. Just work it in the bowl for a few minutes, and then let it rise in a warm place until doubled in volume, about 1 hour.

Lightly grease three 9x5 inch loaf pans. Punch down dough, shape into loaves, and place in the pans. Allow to rise in pans until doubled in bulk, about 1 hour.

Bake 40 to 50 minutes, or until the loaves sound hollow when removed from the pan and tapped on the bottom.

'Mommy, what's a locavore?'

If only more children were asking that question - maybe then we wouldn't be seeing skyrocketing 'adult-onset' diabetes and obesity in our children today. Here's why:

First, a definition: A locavore (think 'omnivore') is a person that refuses to partake in the industrial agriculture system, prefering instead to gather in-season food from local producers - many times even directly from the farmers themselves. These locavores are not only supporting their local economy; they are also more efficiently supporting the nutritional requirements of their bodies. Think about it. The industrialized tomato is bred for durability, quantity and looks - we've lost the taste of tomato, receiving in return an unbruisable, odorless, and bland... bushel of what, exactly? It's also picked weeks before it's even ripe. Has it had the time to obtain all of the nutritional goodness it can from the soil? Unfortunately, no. You might as well eat sawdust.

Since local food is bred for taste, as well as allowed to ripen on the vine instead of in semis moving at 70 miles per hour, it is exponentially more nutritious than any fruit or vegetable you can buy in February from Argentina. By eating whole, local foods (which are whole because they are local), a person can enjoy amazingly delicious and nutritious food. Who needs soda when you can purchase ripe, succulent peaches from your farmer's market? Who wants to eat bland, 'fortified' bread when it can be made with little effort in your own kitchen, using whole grains and local honey? Who doesn't prefer a home-grilled, grass-fed hamburger to the slop that they serve at McDonald's? Surely America's children would be far healthier and happier if they (or their parents) stopped and thought about what they are putting in their mouths.

Thus begins a series I'll call "Why I am a Locavore." In it, I will attempt to break down the many reasons I have chosen to primarily eat within a 100 mile radius, and hopefully this information will convince you to do the same.

For more information on the nutritional content of our food, check out the 2007 report entitled "Still No Free Lunch," by Brian Halweil.

A Beginning.

Last night we had our first frost of the season, and even though fall technically began on September 22nd this year, it didn't really feel like it until this morning. With good reason, too: The winds are blowing fiercely and bitterly cold outside, whipping the fallen leaves around in tiny yellow and orange tornadoes, and I have finally been forced to pull my long, heavy coat out of the closet. It finally smells and tastes and feels like fall. My favorite time of the year has begun. Now is when I layer clothing, and shop for Christmas presents, and bake an ungodly amount of cookies. Apples and squash and arugula and walnuts - it all begins (and ultimately ends) here.

Fall is my favorite season because of its volatility: The flurry of the last harvest, the unpredictable cold-fronts, the motif of death and decay seen in the brilliantly colored falling leaves, which will ultimately lead to rebirth in the form of compost. It's also my favorite season because of its stability: The desire to stay inside more often, leading to a microcosm of family and friends that play boardgames, and bake, and curl up together to watch a movie and stay warm. Fall is the beginning of forced interaction due to weather. I love it. (Talk to me in January and I might feel differently. For now, though, I am utterly enamored.)

I suppose part of my excitement for the season is also due to my own personal beginnings: Next week I begin my very first cake decorating class. On top of that, I am taking a Backyard Gardening class through the Bad Seed Farmer's Market. I feel like I am on a journey, and there is no better time to begin than fall. Why? Because fall might look like death made tangible, but actually - if you look more closely - it's also the beginning of a whole new cycle. New and old are not opposites in this season - they are a unified and seamless transition.