I suspect that today is the Super Bowl, but I think it’s a little late for it. I mean, doesn’t it usually happen in January after the New Year’s Day bowl games? And aren’t we about a month past that? Maybe it was postponed as a patriotic gesture so as not to take the attention away from Obama. As if. (I say that and it feels like whistling in the dark. I HOPE as if.)
I’ve never watched the Super Bowl, don’t even know whether it’s one word or two, and have no idea who is playing in the game on this particular day, nor where they are doing the playing. I am sufficiently connected to know that it is football, just as I know that the Gray’s Cup (the Grey’s Cup?) is about hockey [except that I don't know that: it turns out that it is the Stanley Cup that is about hockey....I'm hopeless on this, I guess.] . I last watched a football game in 1955, when Idaho State College played somebody else on Homecoming Day. I realized at that point that it was unlikely I would ever figure out the game, would ever figure out, even, who had the football at any given moment. They all run around looking as if they have something like a football tucked under their arm, and I’m ready to believe them. It made for a confusing experience, all round, so I gave up on football. (Despite the fact that I am an American, born and bred, I do much better with hockey, but that is because I graduated from Saint Lawrence University, a New York institution up on the Canadian border, and hockey was the only thing to watch for about 5 months of the year. Also, I can see the puck against the ice.)
So, the fact that today is a great American celebration in which we all participate by gathering with our friends in front of a giant TV and eating a lot of high calory snack food, or even a lot of high calorie main dish food, and drinking a lot of beer: well, it’s largely lost on me because I don’t have a TV, don’t know anyone nearby who has a giant one, or if I do, don’t know anyone with a giant TV who is watching the Superbowl, and don’t drink beer. So disappointing. So out of it.
But this past week—the Internet will help you to do anything—I ran into a series of links about food that would be just terrific for eating while watching the Superbowl. One link led to another, of course, and while I’m not sure that all of the things I saw were intended for the Superbowl Nosh Fest, here’s what I found on offer that captured my fancy: barbequed turkey wings (those chicken wings are so 90’s and also so tiny); a 2-pound mat of woven bacon stuffed with sausage and an additional pound of cooked bacon, which is then rolled up and either barbequed or grilled, and then I assume you just use your hands to slather it around on yourself; and fried cheese.
This is a nice range of choices, I think, so for tonight, in celebration of Superbowl Sunday and just to feel a part of things, I fried some cheese and ate it with my fingers. This recipe involves cutting a thick slice of some kind of cheese—I used jack and cheddar, but I imagine some kinds work better than others--and cooking it over a medium-low flame in a non-stick frying pan for 8 minutes. At the end of the eight minutes, it’s turned into a very thin, crispy kind of cracker-like item. You mop up the extra oil with a paper towel before you eat it. Which probably can’t be done with the roasted bacon mat stuffed with sausage: that’s said to come in at 5,000 calories per recipe. Awesome! Just like the Superbowl. But the fried cheese is pretty nice, too.
Showing posts with label food. Show all posts
Showing posts with label food. Show all posts
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Sunday, August 10, 2008
What's to Eat?
When you live in a government-gated exclave where egress is sufficiently burdensome to reduce one’s desires to cross the border unnecessarily, the issue of food is a big deal. Fortunately, the Canadians are interested not only in cheap U.S. gasoline, but also in cheap U.S. food: things that, in Canada, are priced higher because of government supports. It is highly unlikely that the International Market (above) would be interested in providing an extensive selection of food for the paltry 1300 or so Americans who are here year round. But, with the dollar weak and the gas prices relatively low, the Canadians help us along by ensuring that a big grocery store stays open. Talk about hands (and mouths) across the border!
Yesterday, a big summer weekend on the Point and a big summer shopping weekend at the International Market, all the check stands were operating by noon. There weren’t long lines at any of them and nobody was buying giant shopping carts filled with processed foods, but still it was a busy day and notable for that. I asked Rick, the produce guy who was checking, how business was. ‘Best ever,’ he said in his world-class taciturn but not unfriendly manner. (One of my regular tasks in life is to try to engage Rick in conversation, and yesterday was my very best day yet on that front. We discussed the pleasures of not having to arise early in the morning when retired--more of a pleasure for me, of course, than for him since he was at work at 8 a.m.)
Good business is good for us because that means that the International Market will be continuing to supply us with free range chicken and New Zealand apples and such produce and other fresh goods as we like. Half a dozen brands of ice cream, at a minimum, for example. Grapes, constantly. The B.C. Delta, which is minutes away from the Market grows a lot of produce, as does the farther away but still reachable Okanagan, which also grows summer fruits of exceptional quality. We rarely if ever get any of those, of course, because….well, I don’t exactly know why we don’t, but if you want those, you have to actually go over to Canada to buy them. NAFTA doesn’t seem to be working for us on that front. But it does mystify me why we can get grapes from Chile but can’t get cherries from the Okanagan.
I can make my peace with such limitations, of course. When I lived in Yap, in the South Pacific near the equator, in 1975-6, the only grocery store on the 25-square-mile island was not a worthy competitor to the average 7-11 in rural Nevada. I’m happy to have all that they offer here, and happy to have them continue to offer it even when the U.S. dollar is strong and the Canadians aren’t buying so much, as was the case for most of the past ten years.
Yesterday, the guy in line behind me (I was third, he was 4th) asked his wife, ‘Isn’t there an express lane?” I wondered whether he realized that for 8 or 9 months of the year, there is only one checkstand open most of the time and no line of people at all, and in the dead of winter, I am often the only person in the entire store other than the employees. The produce and bread isn’t always as varied or as fresh as one might wish, but at least I have no longings for an express lane. It’s nice to be satisfied with what’s on offer.
Saturday, March 22, 2008
Multiculturalism Hits Home
Canada prides itself on its multiculturalism. Given that it started out with the French and the English trying to make a go of it in a single country, it is perhaps more an ideal born of necessity than one of choice. And even the English-French part is still a work in progress, although as a result of all product labels being written in French and in English, my French vocabulary is far better than it was in high school. Unfortunately, my grammar capability has not experienced a corresponding level of improvement since native French speakers are a little thin on the ground in British Columbia.
Vancouver’s multicultural experience is less French and English though than it is English and Central European, and then India Indian, and then Chinese (both early, in the Gold Rush days and late in the Hong Kong migration days). And in between and around all of those ethnic groups are the First Nations People, so making it all work is something of a challenge. They can only be admired for making it work as well as it does, as compared to the U.S. which seems to have adopted a more stoic, ‘just live with it’ view of the problems inherent in many different cultures living together.
When I was growing up in Pocatello, Idaho, our experience of multiculturalism was largely the local Chinese restaurant, the only restaurant I ever went to until I was old enough to pay the bill myself. We would go there maybe once a year and my father would order steak and my brother and I would get chop suey and pork with mustard sauce and, to demonstrate our enthusiasm for all things Chinese, we would ask for chopsticks as utensils. My father, less enthusiastic, would have us sit at a separate table to eat our food so that he did not have to watch our ineptness. He was something of a stickler about how food was to be eaten.
Every little town in America, I have always thought, had its Chinese restaurant, but I was astonished, as an adult, to discover that every little town in Germany also had its Chinese restaurant, and for all I know, also the villages of Spain, France, Italy, and Portugal. The Chinese brought multiculturalism on a plate, and I surely thank them for it. They were the first people who ever gave me a concrete sense of a world outside my own.
Living in California, however, you kind of trade in the local Chinese restaurant for the local Mexican restaurant. Every family there has its favorite Mexican restaurant. Mine, in 1960, was El Carmen, on 3rd St. in West Hollywood and, if I went there today, I would expect everything to taste just like it did then, which was different from any other Mexican restaurant I ever visited. Years later, we had access to fresh, hand-made tortillas from a local tortilleria, and we were just as likely to make our own version of Mexican food with exquisitely authentic ingredients.
Thus, you can imagine my surprise when, upon arriving in British Columbia, I discovered that the Mexicans had not yet made it this far. When I drive by the lower Fraser valley agricultural fields, I do see that East India immigrants are often working in the fields, so maybe they got here first. Certainly there are plenty of Indian restaurants. Mexican restaurants, though: nada.
The alternative, of course, is the grocery store. But here in B.C., canned goods for Mexican food are in a separate section of special imported goods. Their quality is not very special, but their prices surely are. Cans of refried beans (not from Mexico, but from the U.S.) are very pricey items--$2-$3 for a small can. Salsa might as easily be made from out of season avocados (if you made salsa from avocados) considering the price. Canadian bakers do make tortillas, though. The corn tortillas? Made from pre-frozen shredded cardboard. They do not have the knack of corn meal, I’d guess. But this is Canada, and they understand wheat, so there are several varieties of flour tortillas on offer. Mostly, these flour tortillas remind me of Canadian bagels, which are just bread dough cooked in a circular shape. (If I could, I would take all the residents of Roberts Creek, B.C., for a visit to Fairfax St. in W. Hollywood to taste a real bagel, one that does not have blueberries in it, or chocolate chips, or jelly beans either.) However, one tortilla brand stands right out: Old Dutch Flour Tortillas. That, I think, is a triumph of Canadian multiculturalism.
Vancouver’s multicultural experience is less French and English though than it is English and Central European, and then India Indian, and then Chinese (both early, in the Gold Rush days and late in the Hong Kong migration days). And in between and around all of those ethnic groups are the First Nations People, so making it all work is something of a challenge. They can only be admired for making it work as well as it does, as compared to the U.S. which seems to have adopted a more stoic, ‘just live with it’ view of the problems inherent in many different cultures living together.
When I was growing up in Pocatello, Idaho, our experience of multiculturalism was largely the local Chinese restaurant, the only restaurant I ever went to until I was old enough to pay the bill myself. We would go there maybe once a year and my father would order steak and my brother and I would get chop suey and pork with mustard sauce and, to demonstrate our enthusiasm for all things Chinese, we would ask for chopsticks as utensils. My father, less enthusiastic, would have us sit at a separate table to eat our food so that he did not have to watch our ineptness. He was something of a stickler about how food was to be eaten.
Every little town in America, I have always thought, had its Chinese restaurant, but I was astonished, as an adult, to discover that every little town in Germany also had its Chinese restaurant, and for all I know, also the villages of Spain, France, Italy, and Portugal. The Chinese brought multiculturalism on a plate, and I surely thank them for it. They were the first people who ever gave me a concrete sense of a world outside my own.
Living in California, however, you kind of trade in the local Chinese restaurant for the local Mexican restaurant. Every family there has its favorite Mexican restaurant. Mine, in 1960, was El Carmen, on 3rd St. in West Hollywood and, if I went there today, I would expect everything to taste just like it did then, which was different from any other Mexican restaurant I ever visited. Years later, we had access to fresh, hand-made tortillas from a local tortilleria, and we were just as likely to make our own version of Mexican food with exquisitely authentic ingredients.
Thus, you can imagine my surprise when, upon arriving in British Columbia, I discovered that the Mexicans had not yet made it this far. When I drive by the lower Fraser valley agricultural fields, I do see that East India immigrants are often working in the fields, so maybe they got here first. Certainly there are plenty of Indian restaurants. Mexican restaurants, though: nada.
The alternative, of course, is the grocery store. But here in B.C., canned goods for Mexican food are in a separate section of special imported goods. Their quality is not very special, but their prices surely are. Cans of refried beans (not from Mexico, but from the U.S.) are very pricey items--$2-$3 for a small can. Salsa might as easily be made from out of season avocados (if you made salsa from avocados) considering the price. Canadian bakers do make tortillas, though. The corn tortillas? Made from pre-frozen shredded cardboard. They do not have the knack of corn meal, I’d guess. But this is Canada, and they understand wheat, so there are several varieties of flour tortillas on offer. Mostly, these flour tortillas remind me of Canadian bagels, which are just bread dough cooked in a circular shape. (If I could, I would take all the residents of Roberts Creek, B.C., for a visit to Fairfax St. in W. Hollywood to taste a real bagel, one that does not have blueberries in it, or chocolate chips, or jelly beans either.) However, one tortilla brand stands right out: Old Dutch Flour Tortillas. That, I think, is a triumph of Canadian multiculturalism.
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Thinking Basic Food Needs
The thousand or so permanent residents of the Point have one notable advantage over most tiny U.S. towns: we have a very large supermarket, The International Market. It has free range chicken and artichokes and fresh basil and peaches from Chile and strawberries from Mexico and cheese from hither and yon, as well as 6 or 7 brands of yogurt, from the frivolous to the highly organic. Everything we need is in even more ample supply just across the border, of course. But, just across the border, prices for some foods are very high (eggs, milk, all dairy products, poultry). It is convenient and economical for Canadians to shop down here for such goods when they make the trip across to buy gasoline (today, $3.72/gallon US...still something of a bargain for Canadians with the U.S. dollar almost the equal of a Canadian dollar) or a little alcohol, or to pick up their packages at the post office. So the International Market serves both countries, which justifies its name. At checkout, you can pay in either currency and the cash registers are set up so that they will even tell you how to pay partly in each currency. (This is for the shopper who comes in, buys $35 worth of goods, and finds in his wallet only a US$20 and a CA$20.) The checkers are, so to speak, fluent in two currencies.
In the bad/good days (depending on what kind of currency you were holding), U.S. food prices were very high for Canadians because the dollar was so strong, and in those years we feared The International Market might close because the number of shoppers was truly small. Often, I’d be the only person in the market at 3 in the afternoon. Now, though, with the weak dollar, there are lines and even multiple checkers.
Independent of the currency issue, what wouldn’t you buy here in Point Roberts? That is, what would you make the effort to cross the border to purchase at their grocery stores. In Canada, you can buy Demerara sugar. I suppose it originally came from Demerara, where the rum comes from. I suspect it may now come from Cuba because it is an absolutely ordinary shelf-product in Canada, the Canadians have a sensible relationship with Cuba, and I have never seen it in an American market. It is dark brown, with big, soft crystals, and moves when you put a cup full on a plate as the crystals find their way to achieving stasis. And it tastes deep and dark and tropical and brown sugary. It is to U.S. brown sugar as real maple syrup is to the stuff they sell as pancake syrup. You use it just as you would brown sugar, although you are tempted to consider just eating a bowlful with a spoon, which temptation has never presented itself to me with respect to ordinary brown sugar.
Raisins are another surprising treat in Canadian markets. That is because, in the U.S., shoppers have on offer only raisins made from Thompson seedless grapes. They’re okay; I ate them all my life. But for Canadians, the raisin on offer--your basic raisin for all purposes--is a Sultana: a fruit that is much more flavorful, maybe sweeter, and slightly moist/sticky. So much better than those wizened, dried-up Thompson’s. Take some home with you next time you visit!
And the last ‘Canadian Must Buy’ is wheat flour. The great wheat fields of Canada grow lots of durum wheat and the ordinary Canadian supermarket flour is a much better flour, especially if you want to make bread. It comes composed solely of wheat whereas, as far as I can tell, all American flour is now adulterated with barley flour and also has a lower protein level (because they use more soft than hard wheat to make it), to boot. That kind of flour is how you get to Wonder Bread. I don’t think they could make Wonder Bread with Canadian flour, even if they tried. Raisins, Demerara sugar, and hard flour: I think there’s something to be made with that.
In the bad/good days (depending on what kind of currency you were holding), U.S. food prices were very high for Canadians because the dollar was so strong, and in those years we feared The International Market might close because the number of shoppers was truly small. Often, I’d be the only person in the market at 3 in the afternoon. Now, though, with the weak dollar, there are lines and even multiple checkers.
Independent of the currency issue, what wouldn’t you buy here in Point Roberts? That is, what would you make the effort to cross the border to purchase at their grocery stores. In Canada, you can buy Demerara sugar. I suppose it originally came from Demerara, where the rum comes from. I suspect it may now come from Cuba because it is an absolutely ordinary shelf-product in Canada, the Canadians have a sensible relationship with Cuba, and I have never seen it in an American market. It is dark brown, with big, soft crystals, and moves when you put a cup full on a plate as the crystals find their way to achieving stasis. And it tastes deep and dark and tropical and brown sugary. It is to U.S. brown sugar as real maple syrup is to the stuff they sell as pancake syrup. You use it just as you would brown sugar, although you are tempted to consider just eating a bowlful with a spoon, which temptation has never presented itself to me with respect to ordinary brown sugar.
Raisins are another surprising treat in Canadian markets. That is because, in the U.S., shoppers have on offer only raisins made from Thompson seedless grapes. They’re okay; I ate them all my life. But for Canadians, the raisin on offer--your basic raisin for all purposes--is a Sultana: a fruit that is much more flavorful, maybe sweeter, and slightly moist/sticky. So much better than those wizened, dried-up Thompson’s. Take some home with you next time you visit!
And the last ‘Canadian Must Buy’ is wheat flour. The great wheat fields of Canada grow lots of durum wheat and the ordinary Canadian supermarket flour is a much better flour, especially if you want to make bread. It comes composed solely of wheat whereas, as far as I can tell, all American flour is now adulterated with barley flour and also has a lower protein level (because they use more soft than hard wheat to make it), to boot. That kind of flour is how you get to Wonder Bread. I don’t think they could make Wonder Bread with Canadian flour, even if they tried. Raisins, Demerara sugar, and hard flour: I think there’s something to be made with that.
Monday, February 18, 2008
The Border: You Are What You Were Going to Eat
Homeland Security at the Pt. Roberts border crossing saves its deepest concerns for what you are planning to have for dinner tonight or breakfast tomorrow. Despite the fact that an orange that enters Pt. Roberts--should that terrible and forbidden thing happen--has no way to go any further than the beach, unless it accidentally rolls down to the water’s edge and is caught by an unusually high tide, the very idea that such an orange might enter Pt. Roberts is anathema to the border guards. But what really destroys their evening sleep is the possibility that I, the Nexus-investigated, -authorized and -approved resident of Pt. Roberts and U.S. citizen, might confuse an orange, say, with a tomato (sort of the same shape), or with a carrot (sort of the same color).
Thus, any time I cross that border I am compelled to itemize any plant/vegetable/meat that is in my possession so that they can be certain that I have not made any of these simple mistakes. It is best if I also mention milk and dairy products since, I think, they may contain citrus fruits. Or they may include apples during the months that fall more or less between February and August (or sometimes April and September: the difference may depend upon the guard or the weather; I have no way of knowing). Even though I can always cross the border either way with bananas, Homeland Security insists that I discuss bananas with them. Just in case.
These rules are, of course, promulgated by the Agriculture Dept. but it is Homeland Security that insists they be pursued at the Pt. Roberts border just as they are pursued at the Port of Los Angeles. Further, it is the Homeland Security people who make the rule that if I neglect to mention any of these food products and they observe this product in my car, they can take my beloved Nexus card away from me forever for violating the rules. That decision is made by an individual border guard. There is an appeal process, but it appears that no one conducts the process. You write to request a hearing, but no one ever replies to your request. So, I take it, there is no appeals process. To live in Pt. Roberts without a Nexus card is not a good idea. You will be stuck in long lines at virtually every coming and going, and you will be stuck in them again if where you are heading for is the rest-of-the-U.S. which requires, of course, another border crossing. You will not be able to drive/ride in a car where other passengers have Nexus cards (or more to the point, they can’t cross the border in the Nexus lane with you in their car.) Many people I know here say, ‘If I lose my Nexus card, I’ll have to move back to the mainland U.S.’ And they also say, ‘I think it’s just a matter of time until I lose my Nexus card.’
And that is because you can’t possibly indefinitely avoid breaking their rules. Last summer, green onions but not yellow onions suddenly appeared as a prohibited entry; one year, annual flower plants in pots could be brought in but not perennials (fortunately, border guards know nothing about gardening), but then they decided NO plants, NO dirt: only cut flowers. Eggs? Yes, unless it turns out to be NO because they’re suddenly concerned about bird flu and have banned chicken. Beef? Yes, unless it’s NO because there is a worry somewhere about mad cow. They also usually don't want lamb, but I don't know what that's about. Bacon is okay as long as you tell them about it. So, first of all you never know when the rules change unless someone who has been caught mis-bringing tells you, a friend or neighbor. We have a monthly newspaper, but a once-a-month news source isn’t really going to do the trick.
And you can’t avoid breaking their rules because they frequently sort of make up the rules. You can’t bring in any tropical fruit (except bananas) and kiwi from New Zealand is a tropical fruit because it could have been grown in a tropical area, the guard advised me as he tossed my 10 just-bought-in-Canada kiwi into the trash. The apple rule is intended to prevent any apple grown anywhere other than Canada or the U.S. from crossing the border. But Canadian apples start ripening in July, and there are Canadian storage apples around until September when the new crop starts coming in. Thus, much of that Canadian crop is coterminous with New Zealand’s apple crop. The border guards arbitrarily decide during that overlap period whether this is an okay apple or a not okay apple. They all think no apples are okay from April to August. But from February to April it is much more uncertain what kind of reading you’ll get. It might help if your apple has a label, but they really prefer it to be in a sealed bag, although I’ve never seen a genuinely sealed bag of apples, just bags with twist ties.
Pt. Roberts is really, once you get there, a kind of paradise. But like any paradise, there’s the apple problem.
Thus, any time I cross that border I am compelled to itemize any plant/vegetable/meat that is in my possession so that they can be certain that I have not made any of these simple mistakes. It is best if I also mention milk and dairy products since, I think, they may contain citrus fruits. Or they may include apples during the months that fall more or less between February and August (or sometimes April and September: the difference may depend upon the guard or the weather; I have no way of knowing). Even though I can always cross the border either way with bananas, Homeland Security insists that I discuss bananas with them. Just in case.
These rules are, of course, promulgated by the Agriculture Dept. but it is Homeland Security that insists they be pursued at the Pt. Roberts border just as they are pursued at the Port of Los Angeles. Further, it is the Homeland Security people who make the rule that if I neglect to mention any of these food products and they observe this product in my car, they can take my beloved Nexus card away from me forever for violating the rules. That decision is made by an individual border guard. There is an appeal process, but it appears that no one conducts the process. You write to request a hearing, but no one ever replies to your request. So, I take it, there is no appeals process. To live in Pt. Roberts without a Nexus card is not a good idea. You will be stuck in long lines at virtually every coming and going, and you will be stuck in them again if where you are heading for is the rest-of-the-U.S. which requires, of course, another border crossing. You will not be able to drive/ride in a car where other passengers have Nexus cards (or more to the point, they can’t cross the border in the Nexus lane with you in their car.) Many people I know here say, ‘If I lose my Nexus card, I’ll have to move back to the mainland U.S.’ And they also say, ‘I think it’s just a matter of time until I lose my Nexus card.’
And that is because you can’t possibly indefinitely avoid breaking their rules. Last summer, green onions but not yellow onions suddenly appeared as a prohibited entry; one year, annual flower plants in pots could be brought in but not perennials (fortunately, border guards know nothing about gardening), but then they decided NO plants, NO dirt: only cut flowers. Eggs? Yes, unless it turns out to be NO because they’re suddenly concerned about bird flu and have banned chicken. Beef? Yes, unless it’s NO because there is a worry somewhere about mad cow. They also usually don't want lamb, but I don't know what that's about. Bacon is okay as long as you tell them about it. So, first of all you never know when the rules change unless someone who has been caught mis-bringing tells you, a friend or neighbor. We have a monthly newspaper, but a once-a-month news source isn’t really going to do the trick.
And you can’t avoid breaking their rules because they frequently sort of make up the rules. You can’t bring in any tropical fruit (except bananas) and kiwi from New Zealand is a tropical fruit because it could have been grown in a tropical area, the guard advised me as he tossed my 10 just-bought-in-Canada kiwi into the trash. The apple rule is intended to prevent any apple grown anywhere other than Canada or the U.S. from crossing the border. But Canadian apples start ripening in July, and there are Canadian storage apples around until September when the new crop starts coming in. Thus, much of that Canadian crop is coterminous with New Zealand’s apple crop. The border guards arbitrarily decide during that overlap period whether this is an okay apple or a not okay apple. They all think no apples are okay from April to August. But from February to April it is much more uncertain what kind of reading you’ll get. It might help if your apple has a label, but they really prefer it to be in a sealed bag, although I’ve never seen a genuinely sealed bag of apples, just bags with twist ties.
Pt. Roberts is really, once you get there, a kind of paradise. But like any paradise, there’s the apple problem.
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