Gary Allen's Blog, page 16

Thinking about Lunch

Now that school’s back in session, I’ve been remembering a bit about the most important part of the school day. Well, it was the most important part to me. As a child, and as an adolescent, my appetites were more visceral than intellectual (some might say they still are). I’ve written elsewhere about one transformative experience in the school cafeteria and, frankly, the less I have to recall about the food there, the better. Let’s just say that some of that cafeteria‘s offerings might have constituted a violation of provisions in the Geneva Convention.No, I’ve been thinking about the lunches we carried to school in brown bags or metal lunchboxes (and they were fashioned of metal, back then—in the days before all children were protected from anything that might be used as a weapon). Alas, for most of us—unlike the star of My Big Fat Greek Wedding—lunch was not savory leftover moussaka. Our lunch-bags held sandwiches. Usually soggy sandwiches.After years of such moist disappointments, a few strategies have emerged to make the brown-bagging experience less traumatic. Most of them are structural.The first should be familiar to those who (presumably, as adult cooks) have prepared classic canapés. Applying a thin layer of fat on the bread slows the transfer of wetness from topping ingredients. I’m not suggesting a bagful of canapés for your first grader’s lunch (it would probably garner the same sort of negative social pressure that “moose caca” did in the movie).However, almost every child has had to face a squelchy PB&J —at the very moment when he or she was most in need of some comforting from mom. I won’t get into the choices of jams, jellies, and preserves that have to better than the ubiquitous concord grape jelly—‘though I’m sure we all could. No, this doesn’t involve any ingredient changes. Prevent (or, at least, diminish) the sodden frustration of that PB&J by spreading half of the peanut butter on each of the slices of bread, thereby isolating the jelly from the bread.The same principle can applied to other (perhaps more grown-up) sandwiches. Imagine that you’ve got some lovely left-over roast pork, and tangy-sweet chutney might be the perfect condiment. Simply spread the chutney between (rather than atop) the layers of meat, and it won’t soak into the bread. I, personally, don’t like tuna salad—‘though it has been brought to my attention that others do—but I suspect that a few lettuce leaves betwixt bread and tuna would help make the sandwich last longer in the bag.Lettuce and tomato sandwiches benefit from the same approach—‘though mayonnaise provides some of the requisite water-proofing. Two brief asides: while big juicy tomatoes, like beefsteaks, are great for sandwiches served à la minute, drier paste tomatoes (Roma, for example) are a better choice for traveling lunches; and do not fear food poisoning from the mayo. The mayo’s acidity makes it much safer than a lot of common advice would have you believe.In addition to the anti-wetness issues, experimenting with structure and ingredient sequence can lead to better sandwiches in another way. We taste multiple ingredients according to the order in which our tongue first encounters them. By tinkering with that sequence, we can alter the perceived flavor of the sandwich. Do you want your first bite to taste like ham or mustard? The sandwich’s construction might determine the result (McDonald’s test kitchens spend a lot of time on this seemingly trivial, but significant, element of the flavor profiles of their menu items).

We Are What We Ate

A million or more years ago, in Africa, we started to become something very different from anything ever seen on the planet—and we did it by eating. We became creatures that had much bigger brains than any animal had ever needed. Also, our brains increased in size at a rate that far exceeded anything that evolution had been able to manage before. How we accomplished this is the source of some argument. That's because there are (at least) three separate ways of looking at this process—and while they all arrive at the same destination, they take different routes. The hypothetical causes of our sudden brainy development distinguish each explanation from the others.Let’s begin with the trendiest (at least among non-scientists) one. In recent years, after thinking about our condition and how we got here—“here” meaning overweight and unhealthy—many people have adopted the Paleo Diet. They place on our modern, starchy diet. They assume that, before the advent of cereal  agriculture, our hunter-gather forebears had a diet that was high in meat protein (and, obviously, devoid of all sorts of chemicals found in food today). They reason that, if we could only go back to a so-called “caveman diet,” we could return to our former state of good health.The Paleo argument goes something like this:“Once our species got a taste for meat, it was provided with a dense, protein-rich source of energy. We no longer needed to invest internal resources on huge digestive tracts that were previously required to process vegetation and fruit, which are more difficult to digest. Freed from that task by meat, the new, energy-rich resources were then diverted inside our bodies and used to fuel our growing brains.As a result, over the next two million years our crania grew, producing species of humans with increasingly large brains—until this carnivorous predilection produced Homo sapiens.” SourceIf we choose to ignore the fact that we live a lot longer than our Stone-age ancestors (in itself, a fairly good argument against the Paleo Diet), one look at our teeth—and comparisons with the teeth of our ancient ancestral species—is enough to prove that we are meant to eat a varied diet, and reveals our evolution from ape-like vegetarians to all-consuming omnivores. Also, our smaller guts and bigger brains mark us as distinctly different from our hairier past. 

It’s true that added high-protein flesh and calorie-rich fats could explain the sudden growth-spurt in our crania. However, the development of social systems that permitted cooperative hunting techniques might also have led to our increased intellectual development. It’s not always so easy, separating cause and effect.But is a carnocentric diet the only possible explanation for the sudden development of big brains, and simultaneous diminution of teeth and digestive tracts? Some scientists question the premises of the Paleo dieticians:“...archaeological, anthropological, genetic, physiological and anatomical data [indicate] carbohydrate consumption, particularly in the form of starch, was critical for the accelerated expansion of the human brain over the last million years…” SourceThis idea is especially appealing (considering the much later effect that cereal agriculture had on the development of civilizations—a distinguishing feature of our species, even over other social species), but it runs into another problem. If plant-based foods, even those with lots of caloric starch, were the reason for our larger crania, how do we explain the changes to our teeth and abdomens? No herbivores have demonstrated such radical changes to their mental equipment. That’s because raw plant material must be consumed in large quantities, and requires large expenditures of digestive energy to extract their nutrients. Exclusively plant-eating creatures tend to have large teeth and bellies.Which brings us to the third explanation:“[Richard] Wrangham’s book Catching Fire: How Cooking Made Us Human … makes the case that the ability to harness fire and cook food allowed the brain to grow and the digestive tract to shrink, giving rise to our ancestor Homo erectus some 1.8 million years ago.” SourceCooking made hard-to-digest foods—like starchy roots and grains—more easily assimilated. In effect, fire acted as an external digestive system, allowing us to get much more energy from our food without having to expend our own energy to do so. Recently, archaeologists have found evidence of ancient fires—pushing the time-frame for cooking into the 1-2 million year range of the other two explanations: “…the remains of campfires from a million years ago—200,000 years older than any other firm evidence of human-controlled fire… fanned the flames of a decade-old debate over the influence of fire, particularly cooking, on the evolution of our species’s relatively capacious brains. “SourceOf course it also made that carefully-hunted meat taste even better. Perhaps the conflicts between these approaches should be abandoned in favor of a shared explanation.

Perhaps our exponential growth of gray matter is a result of the confluence of multiple adaptations. 

Perhaps we developed big brains by thinking about eating. Imagine a bunch of hominids, sitting around a campfire on the savannah, planning the next day’s hunt or foraging expedition, while sharing a roasted haunch of wildebeest, passing the boiled root-vegetables, and apishly grinning their satisfaction over a dessert of some ripe berries. 
Eating, and planning our meals, together made us human.

Food Sites for September 2015

It’s pickling season, and we’ve got fresh dill. If here’s any left over, it’ll make a great potato salad.

The dog days of August are about to end (and it can’t come too soon for us). Don’t get us wrong—we much prefer the heat to sloppy wet winter weather, but a few cooler evenings would be nice. You know what we’re saying?

We’re told that our latest book, Sausage: A Global History, is scheduled for publication on the fifteenth of September. If only we had learned—in time—that there was a lovely slang term for encased meats in Victorian England. We suspect, however, that the publisher (Reaktion) would never have approved Bags o’ Mystery as a title.

Regular subscribers to our updates newsletter receive these updates from our blog, Just Served,  directly—but there is much more at the blog that isn’t delivered automatically. You can—if this once-a-month newsletter is just not enough—follow us on Facebook,  and Twitter.  Still more of our online scribbles can be found at A Quiet Little Table in the Corner. 

In an attempt to make light of the summer’s heat, consider this month’s quotes (from On the Table’s culinary quote collection) as a low-brow set of variations on the salad theme:

All normal people love meat. If I went to a barbeque and there was no meat, I would say, “Yo Goober! Where’s the meat?” I’m trying to impress people here, Lisa. You don't win friends with salad. Homer Simpson 

My grandfather had a wonderful funeral... On the buffet table there was a replica of the deceased in potato salad. Woody Allen 

In Spain, attempting to obtain a chicken salad sandwich, you wind up with a dish whose name, when you look it up in your Spanish-English dictionary, turns out to mean: “Eel with big abscess.” Dave Barry

GarySeptember 2015
PS: If you encounter broken links, changed URLs—or know of wonderful sites we’ve missed—please drop us a line. It helps to keep this resource as useful as possible for all of us. To those of you who have introduced us to sites like the ones in this newsletter (such as Cara De Silva and Fabio Parasecoli), thanks, and keep them coming!

PPS: If you wish to change the e-mail address at which you receive these newsletters, or otherwise modify the way you receive our postings or—if you’ve received this newsletter by mistake, and/or don’t wish to receive future issues—you have our sincere apology and can have your e-mail address deleted from the list immediately. We’re happy (and continuously amazed) that so few people have decided to leave the list but, should you choose to be one of them, let us know and we’ll see that your in-box is never afflicted by these updates again. You’ll find links at the bottom of this page to fix everything to your liking.



---- the new sites ----
7 Dirty Truths About BBQ (that Nobody Wants to Talk About)
(Robb Walsh bares all)

Canon of Taste
(Jill Neimark explains: “why we should add food to the cultural canon,” like “those of literature, art, music, architecture, religion and science”)

Carry on Cooking: The Crazy Culinary World of 1970s and 80s Cookbooks
(Andrew Webb, in The Guardian, reminisces with a mixture of delight and disgust)

Fast Food Nation
(Aaron Their, in Lucky Peach, on what we can tell, about Roman eating habits, from Pompeii’s evidence)

How Brisket Conquered the BBQ World
(Jim Shahinon on a fundamentally-changed BBQ scene: “Do not confuse the sacred with the propane”)

How Does Seedless Fruit Reproduce
(the botanical facts-of-life, from Melissa’s Produce)

How Syrians Saved an Ancient Seedbank from Civil War
(Lizzie Wade, in Wired, on how Ahmed Amri and the International Center for Agricultural Research in Dry Areas preserved genebanks containing grain developed over thousands of years)

How Tupperware’s Inventor Left a Legacy That’s Anything but Airtight
(“I’ve got one word for you: plastics”—Mitchell Parker, on “…a revolution driven by women”)

Is There a Better Way to Talk About Wine?
(The New Yorker’s Bianca Bosker, on how the written evaluation of wine has grown “intrinsically bullshit-prone”)

Just Like Mom Used To Make
(Michael Snyder, in Lucky Peach, on why that favorite family recipe might not come out “just like mom used to make”)

Manuscript Cookbooks Survey
(searchable “…database of pre-1865 English-language manuscript cookbooks;”adapted recipes, glossary; also “what manuscript cookbooks can tell us that printed cookbooks do not”)

Oleogustus: Why We Might All be Getting a New Taste for Fat
(move over umami, seems there’s a sixth taste; article in The Guardian)

Parsleyed Ham and Kitchen Breezes: The Letters of M.F.K. Fisher and Julia Child
(Cynthia Bertelsen on the two women who taught America how to eat well)

Pleasures of the Literary Meal
(Bee Wilson’s New Yorker review of Christina Hardyment’s book, Pleasures of the Table: A Literary Anthology—an exercise in innocent gustatory voyeurism)

Renaissance Painting Reveals How Breeding Changed Watermelons, A
(using art to study the history of agriculture)

Researching Food History—Cooking and Dining
(conference and exhibit calendar, historic measurement conversions, recipes, glossaries, classes)

Rethinking the Word “Foodie”
(Mark Bittman’s op ed piece for The New York Times)

Rise of Egotarian Cuisine, The
(Alan Richman, in GQ, on chefs who serve food “…straddling the line between the creative and the self-indulgent”)

Sonic Seasoning
(a Gastropod report of the way the perception of food can be altered by he sounds heard while eating)

Study Suggests Carbs Fueled Human Evolution
(brief article, in Archaeology, on the impact of starches on our development as a species)

Sweet Reason
(Dwight Furrow, on why dessert wines seem to grow less sweet as they age)

Ten of the Greatest Books in Food Studies
(John M. Burdick’s list)

Theorizing Cuisine from Medieval to Modern Times: Cognitive Structures, the Biology of Taste, and Culinary Conventions
(Vanina Leschziner and Andrew Dakin, on how French cooking changed the way all Western diners conceive the meal)

UC Food Observer
(University of California’s Global Food Initiative selects important food news)

What are Kitchens, Sculleries, and Larders?
(article from Geri Walton’s blog, “History of the 18th and 19th Centuries”)

Why Everyone Should Stop Calling Immigrant Food “Ethnic”
(Lavanya Ramanathan gives her reason in The Washington Post)

Why Is the Federal Government Afraid of Fat?
(Dariush Mozaffarian and David S. Ludwig, in The New York Times)


---- inspirational (or otherwise useful) site for writers/bloggers ----
27 Food Stories Nobody Needs to Write Again

Book Designer, The

British Library Puts 1,000,000 Images into the Public Domain, Making Them Free to Reuse & Remix, The

Copyright Fair Use and How it Works for Online Images 

How to Lose Fans and Alienate Followers

Metropolitan Museum of Art Puts 400,000 High-Res Images Online & Makes Them Free to Use, The

Social Media in 15 Minutes a Day, by Guest Blogger Frances Caballo


---- other blogs ----
Camille Bégin

Fig and Quince

First We Feast

Fortune Cookie Chronicles, The

Four Pounds Flour

Godful Food [not about religion]

Hungary Dish, The

Rachel E. Black

Scenes of Eating

Sean Thackrey: Wine Maker

Taste of Savoie

Yummy Books


---- changed URL ----
Recipes Project, The


---- that’s all for now ----
Except, of course, for the usual legalistic mumbo-jumbo and commercial flim-flam:

Your privacy is important to us. We will not give, sell or share your e-mail address with anyone, for any purpose—ever. Nonetheless, we will expose you to the following irredeemably brazen plugs: 

Want to support On the Table, without spending a dime of your own money on it? 

It’s easy. Whenever you want to shop on Amazon. Com, click on any of the book links below, then whatever you buy there will earn a commission for this newsletter (it doesn’t even have to be one of our books) .

The Resource Guide for Food Writers
(Paper)(Kindle)
The Herbalist in the Kitchen
(Hardcover)
(Kindle)
The Business of Food: Encyclopedia of the Food And Drink Industries
(Hardcover)(Kindle)
Human Cuisine
(Paper)(Kindle)
Herbs: A Global History
(Hardcover)(Kindle)
Sausage: A Global History
(Hardcover)(Kindle)
Terms of Vegery
(Kindle)
How to Serve Man: On Cannibalism, Sex, Sacrifice, & the Nature of Eating
(Kindle)

Here endeth the sales pitch(es)...

...for the moment, anyway.

______________
The Resource Guide for Food Writers, Update #179 is protected by copyright, and is provided at no cost, for your personal use only. It may not be copied or retransmitted unless this notice remains affixed. Any other form of republication—unless with the author’s prior written permission—is strictly prohibited.
Copyright (c) 2015 by Gary Allen.

Troubled Waters

Yesterday, as my eighteen-year-old niece frolicked with her boyfriend in the pool, her ten-year-old cousin looked on in dismay.
At first, I imagined her pre-pubescent concern was that boy-girl touching was “yucky,” but perhaps I was projecting my own self-conscious horror of public displays of affection—hell, any kind of public display.
But that’s just me.
She was so upset that she complained to her mother, at length, afterwards. It turns out that the source of her concern was something else altogether. 
A lot of her friends, at school, were dating (which was, in itself, quite a revelation—that ten-year-olds were dating).
When our son was only slightly older, there had been many short-lived romances among his friends—but they occurred mostly in the minds of the girls. The boys were mostly unaware that they were even in relationships or—if they even knew—had no clue what it meant, or what their roles and responsibilities in the relationships might entail. But that was around age twelve, and we only got to see the boys’ side of the drama. The girls’ side of the stories was, apparently, very different.
She went on to reveal—with increasing levels of emotion—that her friends and their “boyfriends” were constantly breaking up. This comes as no surprise to me (I was a former boy, myself). The break-ups caused endless anguish among all the girls, even those—like her—who were merely spectators of the primal struggles.

Oh so slowly, I deduced that she was not disgusted by the observed physicality of the romance, but dreading the inevitability of a painful break-up. Her concern reflected her, albeit limited, experience: that all romantic entanglements must, perforce, end in disaster. Her worries about her older cousin’s potential for suffering were touching—and strangely informative—because she had no personal knowledge of any part of romantic entanglement except of the unavoidable agony of separation.

That this tawdry sturm und drang is the stuff of literary tragedy—not to mention countless country/western songs—suggests that the chroniclers of misery might, themselves, be cases of arrested pre-adolescence.

Food Sites for August 2015

Bitter Bolete, Tylopilus felleus, Poughkeepsie, NY

It’s been a hot, wet summer around here—and mushrooms are popping up everywhere. Alas, not all of them are chanterelles, black trumpets, or the more savory species of bolete. Fortunately, summer provides a host of tastier alternatives—and endless choices of seasonally- (and age-) appropriate libations.

Regular subscribers to our updates newsletter receive these updates from our blog, Just Served,  directly—but there is much more at the blog that isn’t delivered automatically. You can, if you wish, follow us on Facebook, and Twitter. Still more of our online scribbles can be found at A Quiet Little Table in the Corner. 

This month’s quotes (from On the Table’s culinary quote collection) continue our celebration of summer.

The egg creams of Avenue A in New York and the root beer float are among the high points of American gastronomic inventiveness. Mark Kurlansky 

Give a man a fish; you have fed him for today. Teach a man to fish, and he will sit in the boat and drink beer all day. OldFox 

He is no true fisherman who is willing to fish only when fish are biting. Grover Cleveland 

In the Barbecue is any four footed animal—be it mouse or mastodon—whose dressed carcass is roasted whole... at its best it is a fat steer, and must be eaten within an hour of when it is cooked. For if ever the sun rises upon Barbecue, its flavor vanishes like Cinderella's silks, and it becomes cold baked beef—staler in the chill dawn than illicit love. William Allen White 

The story of barbecue is the story of America: Settlers arrive on great unspoiled continent, discover wondrous riches, set them on fire and eat them. Vince Staten 

For each glass, liberally large, the basic ingredients begin with ice cubes in a shaker and three or four drops of Angostura bitters on the ice cubes. Add several twisted lemon peels to the shaker, then a bottle-top of dry vermouth, a bottle-top of Scotch, and multiply the resultant liquid content by five with gin, preferably Bombay Sapphire. Add more gin if you think it is too bland... I have been told, but have no personal proof that it is true, that three of these taken in the course of an evening make it possible to fly from New York to Paris without an airplane. Isaac Stern

GaryAugust, 2015
PS: If you encounter broken links, changed URLs—or know of wonderful sites we'‘ve missed—please drop us a line. It helps to keep this resource as useful as possible for all of us. To those of you who have introduced us to sites like the ones in this newsletter (such as Fabio Parasecoli), thanks, and keep them coming!

PPS: If you wish to change the e-mail address at which you receive these newsletters, or otherwise modify the way you receive our postings or—if you’ve received this newsletter by mistake, and/or don’t wish to receive future issues—you have our sincere apology and can have your e-mail address deleted from the list immediately. We’re happy (and continuously amazed) that so few people have decided to leave the list but, should you choose to be one of them, let us know and we’ll see that your in-box is never afflicted by these updates again. There’re You’ll find links at the bottom of this page to fix everything to your liking.



---- the new sites ----
Applying Concepts from Historical Archaeology to New England’s Nineteenth-Century Cookbooks
(Anne Yentsch’s article in Northeast Historical Archaeology; PDF)

Case for Eating Small Fish, The
(John Donohue’s article, in The New Yorker, on the ecological, nutritional, and economic advantages of eating bait)

Cooking Pot, The
(history of one-pot cooking; proceedings of the 1988 Oxford Symposium on Food & Cookery)

Dark Side of the Truffle Trade, The
(Ryan Jacobs’ article, in The Atlantic, on the fungal underground)

Dining with Darius
(Rachel Laudan on power and provender in ancient Persia; in The Cairo Review of Global Affairs)

Fabled Flatbreads of Uzbekistan, The
(Eric Hansen’s article in Aramco World)

First Kitchen, The
(Laura Shapiro’s New Yorker article on the horrors of dining in FDR’s White House) 

Foods Americans Once Loved to Eat, The
(Li Zhou, on some forgotten dishes, in Smithsonian magazine)

foodseum
(“Chicago’s Food Museum,” a work in progress)

Gerard’s 1597 Herball
(digitized pages from a copy in the collection of the University of Oklahoma Libraries)

Illustrated Guide to Indian Vegetables, An
(Michael Snyder’s article at Lucky Peach)

Knockout Blow for American Fish Stocks, A
(Gib Brogan, in The New York Times, on environmental threats to New England’s fishery)

Little Library Café, The
(a collection of recipes, inspired by literature)

Magnificent Lie Behind Champagne, The
(no, it wasn’t Dom Perignon in the Abbey of Hautvillers)

Mid-century Menu
(RetroRuth said a mouthful: “It was a long, painful and sometimes disgusting road that lead to our current national gourmand status.”)

Naturally Cured Meats: Quality, Safety, and Chemistry
(Gary Anthony Sullivan’s doctoral dissertation; PDF)

Oxford Symposium Downloads
(searchable archive of papers presented at Oxford’s fabulous Food and Cookery conference)

True Place of Science in Gastronomy, The
(Len Fisher’s talk at 2015 Oxford Symposium on Food and Cookery)

Vegetable Detective, The
(Todd Oppenheimer’s article, in Craftsmanship, on the occurrence of heavy metals in cruciferous vegetables, even organic kale )

What It’s Like To Go A Year Without Processed Food
(Kate Bratskeir’s Huffington Post interview with Megan Kimble, author of Unprocessed: My City-dwelling Year of Reclaiming Real Food)

When Taste Is a Trade Issue
(Jack Ewing’s New York Times article on the legal, economic, political, and cultural differences that influence our cheese choices)

White House Orders Review of Rules for Genetically Modified Crops
(Andrew Pollack, on the Obama administration’s attempts to deal with this contentious subject in The New York Times)


---- inspirational (or otherwise useful) site for writers/bloggers ----
5 Reasons Why Writers Should Blog

Agents & Editors: A Conversation With Four Literary Agents

Ask an Editor: How Do You Create A Stunning Visual Identity?

Get Started on Twitter in 7 Simple Steps

How to Publish on Wattpad


---- other blogs ----
aashpaz

DL Acken Photographer

five o’clock teaspoon


---- that’s all for now ----
Except, of course, for the usual legalistic mumbo-jumbo and commercial flim-flam:

Your privacy is important to us. We will not give, sell or share your e-mail address with anyone, for any purpose—ever. Nonetheless, we will expose you to the following irredeemably brazen plugs: 

Want to support On the Table, without spending a dime of your own money on it? 

It’s easy. Whenever you want to shop on Amazon. Com, click on any of the book links below, then whatever you buy there (it doesn’t even have to be one of our books) will earn a commission for this newsletter.

The Resource Guide for Food Writers
(Paper)(Kindle)
The Herbalist in the Kitchen
(Hardcover)
(Kindle)
The Business of Food: Encyclopedia of the Food And Drink Industries
(Hardcover)(Kindle)
Human Cuisine
(Paper)(Kindle)
Herbs: A Global History
(Hardcover)(Kindle)
Sausage: A Global History (for pre-order)
(Hardcover)(Kindle)
Terms of Vegery
(Kindle)
How to Serve Man: On Cannibalism, Sex, Sacrifice, & the Nature of Eating
(Kindle)
Here endeth the sales pitch(es)...

...for the moment, anyway.

______________
The Resource Guide for Food Writers, Update #178 is protected by copyright, and is provided at no cost, for your personal use only. It may not be copied or retransmitted unless this notice remains affixed. Any other form of republication—unless with the author’s prior written permission—is strictly prohibited.
Copyright (c) 2015 by Gary Allen.

Perfectable Perdu

I’ve heard there are people who live only in the present, as either free spirits or enlightened Zen masters. I don’t personally know any of them, and can only think of them in the same way as Plato’s troglodytes could picture life outside. The picture is rather fuzzy—possibly warm and fuzzy, but fuzzy nonetheless.I’m not one of them.Certainly there are others who live only for the future. Whether they long for a Christian hereafter, or some form of paradise on earth, Utopia is where they want to live. Their goal is “a future so bright they’ve got to wear shades.”I’m not one of them, either. The present is just too slippery, too evanescent, to hold onto, and the future—well who’s to say if there will even be a future? So what does that leave me? While there are philosophical and scientific arguments about the nature of time—and if it even exists—the only “time” I’m able to comprehend is the past. With increasing age, the ratio of the past to the future increases, so it’s only natural that I spend more time there.Also, with advancing age, faith in the perfectibility of the future decreases (experience tends to make us less optimistic). The past, however, just gets better and better. Our rearview mirrors are often rose-tinted—and the further into the past we look, the rosier it appears. Its tense becomes increasingly pluperfect.One of past’s best attributes is its malleability. We may not be able to change the facts of the past—as the events, themselves, are no longer available—but their interpretation is infinitely variable. It’s a cliché that “history is written by the victors,” but all memory is constantly re-written, by winners and losers alike. Needless to say, everyone comes out looking better in the memories of events in their pasts. The past is a lovely place to visit, and we’d all love to live there.
And we do.

The Hunting of the Snipe

Once, while riding in the backseat with a coupla’ Texas cousins, the conversation turned to the best hunting techniques for snipe. Back home, up north, I knew about snipe; they were brown-spotted, streaky-looking birds that ran along sandy shorelines on legs that looked too long and flimsy to hold them up, let alone run.
As I listened, it was clear that the Texas variety was a different animal altogether.
These elusive creatures seemed to have more in common with the armadillo tribe than any snipe I ever saw. Perhaps it was living in the vicinity of oil wells and pipelines—and the sort of men who worked in such places—but Texan snipe had an inexplicable fascination with the smell of burning sulfur, like when you lit up one of those old-fashioned strike-anywhere matches. They could also be lured close to a hidden hunter by softly calling “snipe, snipe, snipe, snipe, snipe, snipe, snipe…” into the darkness.
I’d never heard of a wild animal that was so egotistical as to know, let alone answer to, its name. This was Texas, after all—so, if any animal did have an inflated self-image, that would be the place it would live. On the other hand, I’d never heard of a bird that looked like an armadillo and liked the smell of burnt matches.
Still, their enthusiasm for the hunt led me to believe that these snipe must be very good eating, so I was more than willing to try my beginner’s hand at capturing a bagful of them.
We spent the rest of the afternoon gathering supplies and working out our hunting strategy. The supplies were easy: a large grocery sack and a box of kitchen matches for each of us. The strategizing fascinated this neophyte, and I paid careful attention to every word of my more-experienced cousins. It was clear that they knew a lot about the ins and outs of snipe hunting.
For one thing, it made no sense to try to track them or run them down; they were just too wily and quick for that. The most effective method was to sit quietly in a likely spot in snipe country, armed as described, calling softly and lighting matches just in front of the open grocery sack. I was warned to be careful not to hold the matches too close to the bag (that was obvious, even to me—if the sack got burned, what would I use to carry all the snipes I caught?).
I also learned how efficient my cousins were. In order to best cover the snipe terrain, we would spread out to learn where they were congregating. Whoever caught the first snipe would then call out to the other hunters—then everyone would form a circle of gradually-decreasing diameter, driving the snipe toward the waiting bag of the first successful hunter.
I so wanted to be that snipe hunter.
We waited anxiously for it to get dark, when we (or rather my sixteen-year-old cousin) could drive us out to the hunting grounds.
Now Callahan was, at the time, a dry county—and the only place a thirsty Texan could get a drink was in a private club. There was just such a place, a mile or two outside of Clyde. It was a signless and windowless cinderblock building surrounded by mesquites, only identifiable because it sat in front of a pile of empty Lone Star cans as tall as the building itself. This, I was surprised to learn, was prime snipe country. No doubt it had something to do with all the smokers (and the constant lighting of matches) among the club-members.
Since I was the honored guest on the hunt, I was given the best spot.
It was well away from the security light of the clubhouse, on flat sandy ground, surrounded by exactly the kind of brush that provided ideal cover for the secretive snipes. They got me set up, making sure I had everything I needed and understood the night’s strategy. Then they went off to find suitable spots to hunt. I felt bad for them, knowing that they were not as likely to be successful, since they had given me the choice location.
It was a moonless night, but the broad Texas sky was full of stars and their light was more than enough to make out the surrounding mesquites, slightly darker than the sky. I opened the bag slowly, being careful not to make too much noise with the stiff brown paper. I laid it on its side, placing a few small stones inside so that its bottom was flush with the ground. When the mad rush of a snipe happened, I wanted to be sure that it didn’t run under the bag.
I lit the first match.
Barely louder than a whisper, I began calling “snipe, snipe, snipe, snipe, snipe, snipe, snipe” into the darkness.
Another match, and slightly louder, “snipe, snipe, snipe, snipe, snipe, snipe, snipe…”
Nothing yet. I wondered if my cousins were having any better luck. Of course not—I would have heard them yell if they had.
Another match, and slightly louder, “snipe, snipe, snipe, snipe, snipe, snipe, snipe…”
The stars slowly wheeled around the sky, and my matches were running low, but still no sign of the first snipe.
Then I heard it.
A very faint moaning sound.
My cousins hadn’t mentioned the kind of noise that snipe made—or perhaps they did, but I hadn’t been paying close-enough attention? There it was again, a little louder. What if it wasn’t a snipe, but some other animal, possibly a territorial longhorn, or some other dangerous beast for which I was unprepared? The moaning faded away a bit, suggesting a change of direction. Maybe the creature had found some more interesting prey. No, it was getting louder again, heading straight for me.
That was no animal.
It was a pick-up truck.

It stopped not far from where I sat, matchless in the wilderness. My grandfather walked over to me, cursing softly in the darkness. “Damfool kids. What the hail would the sheriff say if he found him out here all by hisself?”

Vellichor

Pope’s Works, with a life by Dr. Johnson

Even before the door opens, a cart full of books tries to tempt me… but I know from long experience that there won’t be anything worthwhile. There’s a reason why they’re free or just really, really cheap. This is the place where failed wannabe bestsellers go to die, usually in the company of how-to books for software that’s been out-of-date for decades.
Still, I look (because one collector found a first edition of Moby Dick on a wheelbarrow outside one of those long-gone Fourth Avenue booksellers’ shops—a book that was signed by Melville to Hawthorne). I’ve never found anything remotely like that, but you never know…
Once through the front door, a second table of inexpensive books, or sometimes titles just recently added to the store’s stock. Always worth a peek. Sometimes, perhaps in an effort to justify the “rare books” portion of the store window’s “Used & Rare Books” signage, antique glass-fronted book cases hold the shop’s treasures: signed first editions; incunabulae; an unbound section of Pope’s Essay on Man; bizarre misprints—like 1631‘s Wicked Bible. I glance at these with a mixture of longing and parsimony. There will be nothing I can afford in those cases.
Further in, a wall of elegant leather-bound sets speak, in reserved tones, of opulent private libraries, lined in dark woods, and paved with thick sound-deadening carpets. These ancient volumes, wearing a patina that suggests, simultaneously, generations of care and the likelihood that they have never been read. I open one carefully, see the un-cut pages, inhale the fragrance of benign decrepitude, run the tip of a finger over the indentations of early letterpress upon ever-so-slightly foxed rag paper, then slide it back on the shelf. None of these books would satisfy anyone but an illiterate snob or his interior decorator. Who, among us, longs to read through twenty-eight volumes of seventeenth-century sermons written by an obscure pastor from an unpronounceable parish in Wales? Or pore over the military memoirs of a retired officer, recounting forgotten and inconsequential deeds in neglected corners of a long-gone empire?
These books arerare, and deservedly so.
I walk away from these shelves, respectfully—as if stepping between the stones of a cemetery, the graves filled with people I never knew, or even knew of. There may be nothing there for me, but there’s no need to be rude, either. I’m impatient to get into the parts of the bookshop that pander to my particular forms of book lust, but I’m vaguely aware of another urge, something perhaps more visceral in nature.
I ignore its implied message, and head to the alphabetically-organized shelves of favorite authors. I look to see if they have the one volume of Boswell’s journals that I’m missing. Alas, no—but they do have a better copy of the first one I acquired, and I’m tempted to upgrade. I hold off, since the day is young, my budget is limited, and I have no idea what serendipitous wonders are lurking back in the stacks.
How about TC Boyle? My living room has one shelf bulging with his books, but I’d like to replace a couple of paperbacks with hardcovers, especially the early Water Music. Alas, there are many copies of his later books, printed when his fame justified huge print runs. I’m beginning to feel a little anxious about my chances for a big haul, or maybe it’s an unsettled something-or-other in the abdominal region.
Perhaps I should have had breakfast before starting this book trek. Never mind; I’m here now; let’s see what finds are in store.
Do they have any of the four volumes that would fill out my set of complete works of John Burroughs? Not likely. I do find yet another copy of Locusts & Wild Honey—a tasty book, to be sure, but I already have two editions of it and a third would place an uncalled-for burden on already over-stuffed bookshelves.
Speaking of burdens, those complaints from my nether regions are becoming more insistent. It is becoming obvious that the problem is not the emptiness of my upper abdomen, but quite the opposite. While writers of books may be metaphorically full of shit, this collector of books is literally so. Why don’t I ever remember to void my bowels before wading into the vowels (and consonants) of a major book hunt? For some reason, moments after entering a bookstore, the urging of my corporal (and less ethereal or aesthetic) nature begin to dictate my behavior. This has happened so often that I suspect there may be an element of causality at work.
Is it because I read in bathrooms—and all that literature is telling me it’s time to find a private place to sit and read?
Is it a variant on the gastrointestinal effects of fright and flight—the urge to empty one’s colon to ease an escape? If so, what could I possibly fear in a bookstore—finding more treasures than I can fit in my book-jammed house? Not likely, since I rarely pass up the opportunity to acquire more books.Perhaps the urge to purge is metaphorical—my body telling me to make room before ingesting yet more volumes? Or does the smell of old books—“vellichor,” the word itself suggesting the Proustian aroma of parchment perdu—merely trigger ancient memories of reading in restrooms? Do rolls of toilet paper mimic the scrolls in the library at Alexandria?
Whatever the reason, I soon find myself in a small room at the back of the shop, seated between walls covered with old New Yorker covers, portraits of authors long gone, photos of the great libraries of Europe—a kind of sanctum sanctorum, consecrated with icons of literary lives, real or imagined. These bookshop bathrooms invariably hold a few books to distract the temporary occupants from their mundane tasks.

No longer burdened by the baser elements of my nature, I emerge fully refreshed and refocused. Where was I? 
Ah yes, “C.” 
I wonder if they might they have any Calvino or Catullus that I’ve not yet perused...

Food Sites for July 2015

Chive blossom, last week, in Ithaca, NY


“Svmer is icumen in, Lhude sing cuccu…” and yes, we’re cuckoo about cook-outs. Here in the US, on July Fourth alone, uncountable tons of charcoal will contribute their carbon to the atmosphere, the smoke of innumerable chickens, cows, and pigs will float to the heavens—a savory sacrifice to the gods of gluttony—and the cholesterol levels and BMIs of the multitudes will rise along with them.

Life can be grand.  
Even better with butter-drenched corn-on-the-cob and strawberry shortcake.
Last month, Roll Magazine published our rant, “Too Hungry for Dinner at Hate,”  an exercise in deciding who not to invite to an imaginary dinner.  In other news, Reaktion has published a Japanese-language version of Herbs: A Global History. Apparently it's called  Habu no rekishi . While we can’t read a word of Japanese, it looks very nice.

Regular subscribers to our updates newsletter receive these updates from our blog, Just Served,  directly—but there is much more at the blog that isn’t delivered automatically. 

You can, if you wish, follow us on Facebook,  and Twitter.  Still more of our online scribbles can be found at A Quiet Little Table in the Corner.

This month’s quotes (from On the Table’s culinary quote collection) are a celebration of summer (we just quote ‘em; we don’t necessarily agree with every little politically-incorrect comment tossed out beside the grill):

Around here, grillin’s grillin’ and barbecue is, well—sigh, sweat—what dinin’ in heaven’s got to be all about. Jane Garvey 

Grilling, broiling, barbecuing—whatever you want to call it—is an art, not just a matter of building a pyre and throwing on a piece of meat as a sacrifice to the gods of the stomach. James Beard

I’m a man. Men cook outside. Women make the three-bean salad. That’s the way it is and always has been, since the first settlers of Levittown. That outdoor grilling is a manly pursuit has long been beyond question. If this wasn’t firmly understood, you’d never get grown men to put on those aprons with pictures of dancing wienies and things on the front... William Geist

You have to love a nation that celebrates its independence every July 4, not with …a show of strength and muscle, but with family picnics where kids throw Frisbees, the potato salad gets iffy, and the flies die from happiness. You may think you have overeaten, but it is patriotism. Erma Bombeck

GaryJuly, 2015
PS: If you encounter broken links, changed URLs—or know of wonderful sites we've missed—please drop us a line. It helps to keep this resource as useful as possible for all of us. To those of you who have introduced us to sites like the ones in this newsletter (such as Jonell Galloway & Elatia Harris), thanks, and keep them coming!

PPS: If you wish to change the e-mail address at which you receive these newsletters, or otherwise modify the way you receive our postings or—if you've received this newsletter by mistake, and/or don’t wish to receive future issues—you have our sincere apology and can have your e-mail address deleted from the list immediately. We’re happy (and continuously amazed) that so few people have decided to leave the list but, should you choose to be one of them, let us know and we’ll see that your in-box is never afflicted by these updates again. You’ll find links at the bottom of this page to fix everything to your liking.



---- the new sites ----
Brief History of the Hot Texas Wiener, A
(as explained by the Library of Congress)

Cooking Issues
(delightfully geeky food technology articles from The International Culinary Center)

Eat Insects for Fun, Not to Help the Environment 
(Ophelia Deroy writes: “people will only be persuaded to eat them if they seem appealing”; a PDF)

Eating the Earth
(John Whiting’s Oxford Symposium paper on the double-edged sword that is agriculture)

Food & Consequences: The Meaning of “Food”
(Aaron Their, in Lucky Peach, on what constitutes “food”)

Food is Culture Too, and Freedom of Culture is a Fundamental Right
(op-ed piece, in The Asian Age, on official gastronomic intolerance in India)

Good Digestion
(Sadie Stein on the relation between appetite and happiness; in The Paris Review)

Life & Thyme
(magazine of “culinary storytelling”)

New Religion, The: How The Emphasis on “Clean Eating” Has Created a Moral Hierarchy for Food
(Sarah Boesveld on self-righteous neo-puritanical eating choices; in Canada’s National Post)

Offal-Eater’s Handbook, The: Untangling the Myths of Organ Meats
(first half of Robert Sietsema’s two part essay, defining offal)

Offal-Eater’s Handbook, The: Where to Eat Organs All Over the World
(second half of Robert Sietsema’s two part essay, a country-by-country listing of dishes that you might—if you really try—find in the US)

On Veganism
(Tara Kaushal on why she should be—but isn’t—a vegan; at 3 Quarks Daily)

Reconstructing Cuisines and Recipes from the Ancient World
(James Wiener’s interview with The Silk Road Gourmet’s Laura Kelley; at Ancient History Et Cetera)

Utopian Studies
(a special issue devoted to papers on food utopias, from the seventeenth century to today; downloadable PDF)

Warning: This Article Could Radically Alter the Way You Eat 
(Amy Fleming, on gastrophysics—the science behind how our perception of flavor and satiety are altered byall of our other senses; in The Guardian)

What Does a Food Historian Do?
(Rick Paulas’ interview with Ken Albala)

What to Eat in France: Camembert
(Jonell Galloway speaks fluent Fromage)

You’re Eating Fake Tortillas, and Diana Kennedy Is Pissed About It
(Daniel Hernández’s interview with the “Michael Moore of [Mexican] food”)


---- inspirational (or otherwise useful) site for writers/bloggers ----
5 Lessons I Learned Writing the Genius Recipes Cookbook

13 Rules to Maximize Writing Productivity

Blogging 101: Why Start a Food or Author Blog?

Comma Sense

Food Blogging 101: More Computer Info for Food Writers

How I Broke Into Food Writing: Advice From Tasting Table’s Senior Editor

How to Pitch a Newspaper or Magazine Feature: Dianne Jacob’s Valuable Advice

In Defense of Food Writing: A Reader’s Manifesto

Nigella Lawson: Why I Became a Cookbook Writer

RecipeWriter

Writing a Cookbook Proposal


---- other blogs ----
Andrea Maraschi 

Cookblog

Danger! Men Cooking!

Eccentric Culinary History, An

Food Institute Blog, The


---- that’s all for now ----
Except, of course, for the usual legalistic mumbo-jumbo and commercial flim-flam:

Your privacy is important to us. We will not give, sell or share your e-mail address with anyone, for any purpose—ever. Nonetheless, we will expose you to the following irredeemably brazen plugs: 

Want to support On the Table, without spending a dime of your own money on it? 

It’s easy. Whenever you want to shop on Amazon. Com, click on any of the book links below, then whatever you buy there (it doesn’t even have to be one of our books) will earn a commission for this newsletter.

The Resource Guide for Food Writers (Paper)(Kindle)
The Herbalist in the Kitchen(Hardcover)(Kindle)
The Business of Food: Encyclopedia of the Food And Drink Industries(Hardcover)(Kindle)
Human Cuisine(Paper) (Kindle)
Herbs: A Global History(Hardcover)(Hardcover, in Japanese)  (Kindle)
Sausage: A Global History (available for pre-order)(Hardcover)
Terms of Vegery(Kindle)
How to Serve Man: On Cannibalism, Sex, Sacrifice, & the Nature of Eating(Kindle)
Here endeth the sales pitch(es)...

...for the moment, anyway.

______________
“The Resource Guide for Food Writers, Update #177” is protected by copyright, and is provided at no cost, for your personal use only. It may not be copied or retransmitted unless this notice remains affixed. Any other form of republication—unless with the author's prior written permission—is strictly prohibited.
Copyright (c) 2015 by Gary Allen.

Food Sites for June 2015

Hama Hama oysters, on the shore of Washington’s Hood Canal

We’ve been traveling, for the past three weeks or so, and have eaten well—and not-so-well—across some twenty states. Unfortunately, while driving along the Interstates, we find nothing but fast-food chains. Never-ending variations on the theme of fried flesh and starch. We search in vain for something raw or even fresh—and must often abandon all hope of finding any decent vegetables. However, by exiting the endless divided highway for back roads, some toothsome surprises may be encountered.

We suspect that there’s a metaphor here about food writing, but we’ll leave its discovery to you, gentle reader.

Regular subscribers to our updates newsletter receive these updates from our blog, Just Served, directly—but there is much more at the blog that isn’t delivered automatically. For example, “A Study in Contrasts,” a recent exercise in self-indulgence, addresses some mixed feelings that one might experience when guided by one’s stomach. 

You can, if you wish, follow us on Facebook, and Twitter. Still more of our online scribbles can be found at A Quiet Little Table in the Corner.

This month’s quotes from On the Table’s culinary quote collection are all from another American traveler:

A man accustomed to American food and American domestic cookery would not starve to death suddenly in Europe, but I think he would gradually waste away, and eventually die. Mark Twain 

After a few months’ acquaintance with European ‘coffee’ one’s mind weakens, and his faith with it, and he begins to wonder if the rich beverage of home, with its clotted layer of yellow cream on top of it, is not a mere dream after all, and a thing which never existed. Mark Twain

 Sacred cows make the best hamburger. Mark Twain

GaryJune, 2015
PS: If you encounter broken links, changed URLs—or know of wonderful sites we’ve missed—please drop us a line.  It helps to keep this resource as useful as possible for all of us. To those of you who have suggested sites—thanks, and keep them coming!

PPS: If you wish to change the e-mail address at which you receive these newsletters, or otherwise modify the way you receive our postings or—if you’ve received this newsletter by mistake, and/or don’t wish to receive future issues—you have our sincere apology and can have your e-mail address deleted from the list immediately. We’re happy (and continuously amazed) that so few people have decided to leave the list but, should you choose to be one of them, let us know and we’ll see that your in-box is never afflicted by these updates again. There’re You’ll find links at the bottom of this page to fix everything to your liking.



---- the new sites ----
20 Delicious Bug Recipes from Chefs
(Mandy Oaklander on the latest in creepy-crawly cuisine; in Time magazine)

Bro and a Philosopher Debate the True Meaning of a Sandwich, A
(it’s not a simple question to answer…)

Culinary Historians of Piedmont North Carolina
(meetings held at Flyleaf Books, 752 Martin Luther King, Jr. Blvd., Chapel Hill, NC)

Fruits and Vegetables Are Trying to Kill You
(Moises Velasquez-Manoff on recent research into the relationship between plant stressors and human health)

How to Read a Wine
(Dwight Furrow: “…when you taste a wine you taste the residue of geography and culture”)

Human Cheese
(experimenting with bacteria from our bodies to produce cheeses)

Let’s Eat Together: How Immigration Made British Food Great
(the gastronomic melting pot is not a solely American phenomenon)

On Food Labels, Calorie Miscounts
(Philip J. Hilts on a more scientific method for counting calories, in The New York Times)

Real North Carolina Barbecue
(“barbecue” is always a contentious subject, so don’t expect this article to mince words)

Science Giveth and Science Taketh Away
(Dwight Furrow on glass shape and the perception of wine)

Science: The Missing Ingredient in the So-Called Art of Cooking
(Cynthia Bertelsen’s plea for, and links to sources of, scientific literacy for cooks—and, by extension, food writers)

Shared Meals
(Jan Whitaker, on some of the less-than-savory things restaurants used to serve)

UC Food Observer
(food and agriculture news from University of California)

When Eating Dairy Was a Life-or-Death Question
(Susan Cosier on archaeological evidence for early cheese-making and the evolution of milk-tolerance in adults)

Why Comfort Food Comforts
(Cari Romm’s psychological insights, in The Atlantic)

Why (Western) Philosophers are Late to the Dinner Party
(philosopher Dwight Furrow considers the reasons other philosophers have so rarely considered food to be a worthy topic)


---- inspirational (or otherwise useful) site for writers/bloggers ----
5 Ways to Get Publicity for Your Book (That Aren’t Related to Your Book Launch or Book Tour)

How to Start a Food Blog: 10 Tips from a Veteran Blogger

How to Start a Food Blog: A Step by Step Dummy Proof Guide

Kidnapped!* A Case of Plagiarism


---- that’s all for now ----
Except, of course, for the usual legalistic mumbo-jumbo and commercial flim-flam:

Your privacy is important to us. We will not give, sell or share your e-mail address with anyone, for any purpose—ever. Nonetheless, we will expose you to the following irredeemably brazen plugs: 



Want to support On the Table, without spending a dime of your own money on it? 
It’s easy. Whenever you want to shop on Amazon. Com, click on any of the book links below, then whatever you buy there (it doesn’t even have to be one of our books) will earn a commission for this newsletter.

The Resource Guide for Food Writers
(Paper) (Kindle)
The Herbalist in the Kitchen
(Hardcover) (Kindle)
The Business of Food: Encyclopedia of the Food And Drink Industries
(Hardcover) (Kindle)
Human Cuisine
(Paper) (Kindle)
Herbs: A Global History
(Hardcover) (Kindle)
Sausage: A Global History
(Hardcover)
Terms of Vegery
(Kindle)
How to Serve Man: On Cannibalism, Sex, Sacrifice, & the Nature of Eating
(Kindle)
Here endeth the sales pitch(es)...

...for the moment, anyway.

______________
The Resource Guide for Food Writers, Update #176 is protected by copyright, and is provided at no cost, for your personal use only. It may not be copied or retransmitted unless this notice remains affixed. Any other form of republication—unless with the author’s prior written permission—is strictly prohibited.
Copyright (c) 2015 by Gary Allen.