03/30/17

Black vernissage

  1. January 15: lovingly drool over sumptuous catalogue descriptions, while the dreary grey outside comes pouring out of the sky. Mikado, pink, 1886, its longevity a testament to the orientalism that birthed Madame Butterfly, Turandot, the ice princess, the prostitute with a heart of gold.

  2. February 15: amass plastic salad boxes and single-use paper coffee cups. Wash, stack, anticipate. Purple Russian, plum-shaped, smoky, bacon-like, regal. 75 days to maturity. From Crimea (like many of the best short-season beauties), a place also infamous in the mythology of warfare. 
  3. March 15: 6-8 weeks before “last frost date,” except it rarely frosts here on the Coast and these instructions mean very little. Salad box greenhouses, set on south-facing window sills. Me, the arbiter of waking and sleeping, sifting through the seedbox, weighing the painstaking notes from years past. Green Moldovan, rare. Fared well in drought; immune to bird pecks; prolific. Moldova: landlocked, once of the Russian Empire. 
  4. April 15: once seedlings set 2 true leaves, transplant to used coffee cups, label carefully, water daily. Cover every windowsill; attempt defense from rambunctious cats. Azoychka was found in a bird market and brought back to the US in the lining of a suitcase. A yellow beefsteak with a woman’s name. 
  5. May 15: once night temperatures exceed 15oC, set coffee cup planters out in the day, in again at night. Water daily. Move soil (heavy). Remove weeds (tedious). Oaxacan Jewel, 8oz Mexican sunsets, marbled with hues of gold, pink, red, orange. 
  6. June 15: dug in with stale kibble, epsom salts, dry no-fat milk, everything reaches for the sky. Me, inspecting for telltale yellow blossoms, and the foraging bees (who prefer the nectar of nearby raspberry canes). Stump of the World: smooth-skinned and Biblical; ideal for sandwich picnics, hikes, Sunday school, pulpit smashing. 
  7. July 15: the hunt for suckers continues in earnest. Structural pruning, aspirational staking. The endless search for broken hockey sticks, discarded pool cues, bamboo poles, ropes, wire. If not caged and tamed, our friends (too-long domesticated) succumb to disease and early death. Creamy, fruity Valencia: from Maine, or Spain,
    depending on the day and time and storyteller.
     
  8. August 15: the blight creeps, from the ground up. The riot of colour begin from the top down, in a fight against birds and rats and squirrels. Isis Candy Box: a mixed gene pool and mystery grab bag of mottled sunbursts, delivered in round and oblong shapes. Sweet explosions. Darwin was here. 
  9. September 15: branches weigh heavily on inadequate poles, crushing them with the weight of history, whole legends of families and great escapes melted into flavourful bites, enhanced by stewing–acid, sweet, smoke, salt. Opalka, long and pointy, heavy with true tales of Polish exile (hold the cabbage rolls).
  10. October 15: the rain. Gather armfuls of green tomatoes before every downpour, half an eye on the clouds. They cover the windowsills where their parent plants once stretched their pale green leaves in infancy. Wapsipinicon Peaches, with their soft fuzzy skins, keep poorly but incite conversation. Seed fermentation in rows of labeled shot glasses. 
  11. November 15: labels, sorting, notes, photos, jars, dreams. Black Vernissage, a basket of 2oz saucy baubles.   

 

03/2/17

S + 7 x 2

Queue conductivities. Naming
Premark. Conveying: calcium,
curtain-raisers, fisheries, wounding

Burrows (belfries?). Pavilion
(affections). Huskiest curtailment;
bradawls yearned. Projector!

Tarns: Prize-money. Paroxysms
strums (disgusts hubble-bubbles).
Hairs-breadth gibberish. retreats.

01/20/17

“A lot of Subsidiary clauses breaking Strunk & White rules”

A recent assessment of the New York Times Twitter account (which has 1.25 million followers) found that of the 86 recipes listed as “Vietnamese,” 95% are catalogued as having white authors.  


Listening in the Ethnic Aisle

Shopper 1: You know how there’s a Chinese master stock that gets used in all their dishes? Is there such thing as a Vietnamese master stock?
Shopper 2: Want me to Google it?
S1: There’s no signal in here.
S2: Too bad, I thought I saw something in Bon Appetit magazine the other day. What do you need it for, anyway?
S1: Nothing specific, it’s just I really want to master Vietnamese food.
S2: Why Vietnamese food?
S1: Oh…the flavours are so…exotic. I’m hooked. Peanut sauce. Star anise. Those sandwiches with the pickles–they’re so good and so cheap. I’d eat five if the bread didn’t have so much gluten in it.  Plus I’m kind of bored with Thai cooking and I want to try something new.
S2: But your tom yum soup is just so yum!
S1: It’s getting a little tired for me. And they say Vietnamese food is the new Thai food. “Pho is the new ramen!”
S2: Isn’t ramen Japanese?
S1: Whatever.
S2: Hey check it out! Campbell’s makes pho broth in a tetrapack now…and it comes in low sodium. That’s awesome.
S1: What? Gross. Get that inauthentic shit away from me.

*

Yes, please shower me with more of your authority and fascination and mastery of Asia…n cooking. Tell me–in your quest for flavour authenticity, did you even go so far as to get yourself to Thailand? Did you attend a cooking class there? Oh wow. May I be only one among many to congratulate you on your sense of adventure and your commitment to culinary mastery! Your dedication to the truly exotic flavours of the East! I bet you eschew ketchup for tamarind pulp when you make pad thai. You might even skip that plump and luscious (organic!) fresh turmeric from Hawaii that’s all over grocery store shelves these days. And for good reason. Only the jet-fresh shabbiness of Thai-grown turmeric is fit for your hand blended artisanal curry pastes, am I right?

And now that you’ve honed your skills conquering one exotic cuisine (not counting that summer you dabbled in Afro-Caribbean veganism–remind me what’s it called again? Ittle? Eetal?), the possibilities are endless. And this store. This aisle. It’s delightful. It’s the world at your fingertips, without the bother of finding a safe parking spot at one of those grubby ethnic stores where no takes Visa and no one speaks English. This place has everything you need to master any cuisine you desire (at least, the ones that are chic for the time being.  The ones that matter). Bonus: you can collect Air Miles while you’re at it.

Oh. But unfortunately (or fortunately!) you’re such a pioneer, you’re ahead of the curve on this and Vietnamese food isn’t quite on trend yet. You might not be able to find all the fresh ingredients in the produce section here, and you’ve already read somewhere that you can’t make real Vietnamese food without all those herbs…Thai basil and those other ones with names no one can pronounce. So if you really want to master this thing (and I know you do), you’re going to have to suck it up and go on a little Chinatown scavenger hunt.

Here’s a brilliant idea: pick up one of those sandwiches with the pickles while you’re down there. Get a recommendation for the most authentic sandwich place from your one Vietnamese friend–you don’t want some whitewashed sandwich that’s nothing like the real deal, because you are the real deal. And start considering your Instagram filters right now, because that place is selfie heaven for the food obsessed. Get one with a dry goods display–that’s a classic. And those stores won’t be around too much longer, what with all the new developments coming up. It’s just too bad you’re going to have to deal with all the street people, the seniors (sigh. Get out of the way, grandma), and all those protesters. Sure, you’ll have to keep an eye on your purse, but think of it like a game. You’ve been to Thailand. You’ve got this.  

True–nothing in Chinatown is labelled in English and the staff never understand your questions–but thank god for smartphones and data plans. It used to be a real nightmare trying to communicate the most basic ideas. Sometimes it felt like the staff didn’t even want to help you. But now that Google can translate everything, you don’t have to rely on them anymore. The only thing you really have to worry about is whether or not the produce was locally sourced–and the fact that all those leafy things kind of look the same. Maybe someday there will be an app for that. Oh–make sure you avoid anything imported from China. You cannot trust anything that came from China. And hygiene. Make sure you wash your food at least three times before you cook it. Chinatown. Is. Crawling. With. Vermin. All those open bulk bins–don’t things just crawl all over the merchandise at night?

Look, all of this sounds like a hassle, but it’s not a big deal. I promise you: mastering the authentic, sophisticated flavours of the Mekong will be worth all the trouble. You are an intrepid culinary explorer. You are worth it.

 

01/19/17

Question conditions. Name
Prejudice. Convert: cake,
curry, fish, worry

Burp (belch?). Pause
(affect). Hush curses;
bracket yawns. Project!

Target: Privilege. Parody
struggle (disguise howls).
Hail ghosts. Advance.