Oysters, Pearls, and Occupation

Today, protests erupted all over the world, some peaceful, some less so, from New York to Berlin to Tokyo. While movements like Occupy Wall Street have been ongoing (if unrecognized), responses to the events in Egypt, Syria and Tunisia earlier this year have spurred protests from the Spanish indignados to the Greek debt crisis--suffice it to say, something is going on here and it's not good. Criticized for the lack of unified message, the mere fact that there is a global outcry against the capitalist financial system points to the fact that perhaps these disparate issues (climate change, income inequality, nuclear power, food insecurity, you pick your hot button) are framing a more frightening problem: the system we built is broken, and the people in power are not interested in or capable of fixing it.

Long a political tool (Boston Tea Party, anyone? No, I'm not referring to a Bachmann support rally) and an increasingly important political issue in this day and age, it's easy to see the connection between food and the evils of corporate capitalism, and today's use of food as a protest of these issues asks important questions about the systems and cultures we support and promote. Wednesday's NY Times Dining & Wine section featured a fascinating article on the food chain supply at the Occupy Wall Street protests--an interesting look at how counter-cultures come about as well as a nice spotlight on the movement itself. Yet, this article ran under an almost full-page spread of restaurant critic Sam Sifton's final review (before he assumes the position of National Editor) of Thomas Keller's Per Se. Opened in 2004, Per Se represents that kind of American dining that reached its pinnacle at the turn of the 21st century--attention to ingredients with a dose of fine dining opulence or what Sifton calls the best restaurant in NY with a seamless combination of "French pretension with control-freaky West Coast pedantry" (and an obvious tendency toward high-culture hedonistic satisfaction, if you ask me).

In these recession-wary times this style of consumption is both outdated and offensive; as a food culture we have moved toward a more simplistic version of fine dining where fine equates to 'from the earth', traceable and fresh, and where sustainability is more important than deconstruction or molecular manipulation. That Sifton fails to acknowledge that We are the 99% can't even dream of a meal where "dinner for two can scratch at $1,000 — or about the same as the median weekly household income in New York State," let alone that the writer's self-aggrandizing farewell took top billing over the fascinating and ongoing confluence of food, politics and protest, puts the issue of income disparity into sharp relief. Is Per Se the best restaurant in NYC? The answer is irrelevant. The times they are a-changing, and the growing economic tumult and political unrest at home and abroad should have us (and Sifton) asking more challenging questions than whether an appetizer is a food or "a poem about creaminess".

What is certain is that there is something going on here, and that food will play an important role in how these issues are framed, represented and fought. Be it the "The Big Shift" or "The Great Disruption" our world is changing, our place in it less certain--it is up to us to choose where and how we want our voices to be heard. Political reform and fundamental change is always daunting, but if we have learned anything is should be that revolution truly can start on our plate.

Come On Irene...or the second most overused weekend wordplay, Rock You Like a Hurricane

Well, it's been a wonky week here in NYC. First an earthquake rocked the East Coast on Tuesday (as a Californian I am inclined to chuckle at the spastic reaction, but then again, as my 60 floor building swayed to and fro--despite my natural instinct to automatically duck & cover--it's quite counter-intuitive to wrap your head around the earth shaking on this side of the country)...and then we spent the weekend with Irene.

Bloomberg is taking some heat and some praise--shutting down mass transit, evacuating low lying areas of the city--but let's face it, we all bitched and moaned during Snowmaggedon, so no matter what Mayor Mike did this round he was gonna take some heat. But, with mass transit back up and running Monday AM and property damage and loss of life at a relative low, it's hard to say we weren't well prep'd. (On a personal note, I was never the biggest Bloomby fan, but after a weekend spent cooped up indoors watching four press conferences on NY1--his subtly unbuttoned shirt collars and gravely voice, telling us all to quit our bitching and stay safe, I gotta say I dig the guy).

So what really happened in NY this weekend? There's a lot of press going on about the sense of community amongst New Yorkers who rally together in disasters, but I am inclined to disagree. The reality is a bunch of individuals cooped up in their respective cubby holes, bitching about the inconveniences of limited services, lack of transportation, venturing out to buy up the last of the hurricane supplies (mainly beer, wine, and liquor although there was not a flashlight to be found on the island after 5pm Friday night), and then complaining that we were forced to eat and drink indoors on one of the last remaining summer weekends (the fear of impending Labor Day looms larger than a Cat 1 hurricane).

Stores, shops, restaurants, and empty groceries all boarded up (let's face it, bars really were our only option), the city was on lockdown after the subway closed at noon on Saturday. And god forbid we wait over 15 minutes for groceries. Watching cheese platters, salumis and quinoa salads (no more 11-grain whole wheat sandwich bread?! you mean the sushi guys aren't working today?! how on earth will we survive?!) fly off the West Village shelves Saturday morning was an interesting lesson in emergency preparedness. Easy for Manhattanites to complain, while our doormen and building employees were forced to spend the weekend in our basements monitoring storm damage. It makes one realize how those who live in the furthest boroughs are really the people who make the city run, without whom all of NY life's little conveniences (the bodegas, the cab rides, the deliveries) aren't possible.

While the storm was less intense than expected, Sunday morning was an eerie calm--no comforting rumble of trains beneath ground, no horns honking and not a cab in sight on 7th Ave, it was a surprisingly lonely and deserted city. But as yesterday's afternoon winds blew out the remaining clouds, the sunset was truly nature's silver lining to a weekend, if not well-spent, then at least interestingly-spent.

It's hard not to feel like something has changed today. As the plywood is discarded and tape comes off the windows, cloudless skies, humidity-less sunshine and a hint of fall in the air really do make it feel like we have started fresh. By far the most beautiful day we have had all summer, it's difficult not to feel warm about the city and people of New York. Like I said, it's been a wonky week.

Pop-Up Madness

Admittedly one of my least favorite "foodie" trends over the last two years has been the overabundance of pop-up everything. Don't get me wrong--born and raised on VH1's Pop Up Video (the original pop-up) has me hooked on assorted fun facts and little known backstories. But these days, as the economy continues to struggle pop-ups are moving beyond food trucks and restaurants, into the realm of everyday life.

Maybe it's a jaded New Yorker thing (in honor of today being my two year anniversary living in the Big Apple), but I'm popped out. In my neighborhood alone (thanks, in large part, to the demise of St. Vincent's Hospital) pop-up shops are a dime a dozen--cupcakes, ice cream, designers, two month "once in a lifetime" chef's specials...suffice it to say I'm over it.
Until the new section of the High Line opened, and bringing with it a POP UP ROLLER RINK. Easily wooed by anything related to four wheels and red rubber stoppers, I just had to check it out.

Summer is prime pop-up time, when seasonal foodstuffs and nice weather get together to bring the East Coast a unique local bounty that is nearly impossible to come across the rest of the year. Boosted by the Colicchio's The Lot on Tap (featuring a Brooklyn Brewery High Line Hef and a series of specialty food trucks), Uniqlo sponsors the roller rink. A vacant parking lot transformed into a roller rink with beer and food sounds like my heaven, but I have to say, I was less than impressed.

Lacking the circumference of regulation rinks, the High Line roller rink feels exactly what it is--pop-up. $12 dollars for entrance and a pair of skates which have been god only knows where (and personally I prefer more ankle support) for a bumpy lot in which to perform small circles. How about we take some of the proceeds and build a permanent fixture in a neighborhood that, thanks to the High Line, is primed for a serious resurgence? And if that fixture just happens to be a smooth-as-silk roller rink for those of us who are disco-inclined, all the better.

Limited time pop-ups are selling us all short. So focused are we on the novelty of latest trends (ah novelty, one of the great American pastimes to be sure), that we are willing to forfeit quality and staying power. In the grand tradition of free-market capitalism it has become socially acceptable to get in, make money, and get out before anyone can tell how viable, socially responsible or ethically relevant a pop-up business is. Pop-ups literally do not have to do anything well to be a short-lived success--so eager for the "next best thing," we are being blinded by an avalanche of newfangled showmanship. For my money, better to spend some quality time with the super groovy folks at the Central Park Dance Skate Association....for now I'll keep working on my spins.


...and a coincidentally well-timed article on the Gastronomics of Pop-Ups

Verliebt in Berlin

What's more fun and delicious than currywurst, that clever German concoction of spiced sausage smothered in curried ketchup over fries? A Baudrillardian simulacra made of Marzipan of course!!

A new look for the Ranchero...which means more new posts, pics and thoughts from travels around the big wide world!

SPRING BREAK

After another lengthy absence (the to-dos of life and grad school often impede time and travel), I have returned again, from a relaxing spring break (not in the pop-culture, neon wristband, all-you-can-drink, Cabo sense...more an actual break from schoolwork involving actual downtime occurring during spring--although it was in Mexico).

Detroit is not a destination I readily associate with Mexico, although my recent trip to Puerto Vallarta and its environs forced me to begin my journey at seven o’clock in the morning at the Detroit Metropolitan Airport (a quick jaunt from Newark). Accustomed to arriving in Mexico from New York or California (my usual jumping-off points), my multi-cultural sensitivities were appalled by what I perceived to be the overwhelming pale of my fellow travelers—the homogeneity of the crowd in Corona t-shirts and brand new flip-flops forced me to acknowledge that, while I may not want to belong in this group, I certainly looked the part (I had even foregone my New Yorker black in anticipation of my tropical adventure).

A brief survey of the waiting area as well as a mid-flight lap down the aisle confirmed that was in fact not a single Mexican flying to Mexico, forcing me to acknowledge my part in this cohort of tourists (a word at which I cringe despite the fact that I often find myself traveling as one). I like to think of myself as a traveler rather than a tourist (a distinction I will explore later) so the conversations I overheard (“Mexicans hate Americans,” “We are going to do nothing but drink tequila and sit at the resort,” “Spring Break 2011—how do you say ‘shot’ in Mexican?”) left me feeling embarrassed by the rowdy, overfriendly crowd. As the wheels touched down in Puerto Vallarta and the pilot announced our arrival with a Southern twang, not a word of Spanish was spoken and my discomfort with all of the colonialist connotations of “spring break” reached a pinnacle.

Barbara Kirshenblatt-Gimblett (BKG) suggests in the contemporary tourism economy consumers (tourists) crave experiences that the industry manufactures to “create ‘an effect called the real world’…one of tourism’s most valuable assets.” In contrast, I propose that travelers explore the real “lifespace,” to use BKG’s term, “the ‘real world,’ available everywhere, always open, and free of charge,” unmediated by the tourism industry’s attempts to commodify local culture. Jeffrey Pilcher acknowledges that certain visitors from the United States have often embraced Hispanic culture as a countercultural protest to mainstream American capitalist practices. These bohemian adventurers come close to what I define as a traveler, “in search of more authentic and natural experiences,” seeking out the true lifespace of local peoples, places not mediated by the tourist industry’s constructed cultures (selected based on consumer expectations and notions of what, realistically, can sell). In this case and by contrast, tourists (like a majority those on my plane) arrive in Mexico expecting a watered-down version of Hispanic culture, “demand[ing] to eat their familiar fajitas, margaritas, chips, and salsa,” while absorbing vast quantities of cheap beer and all-you-can-eat resort buffets, largely ignoring the goings on of the peripheral lifespaces that are serving their needs.

It goes without saying that I prefer to categorize myself squarely in the role of traveler rather than tourist, although upon deeper reflection I find that these categories are not hard and fast, just as I have previously (in this same forum) been hyper critical of self-proclaimed travelers who completely ignore the lifespaces in which they find themselves, preferring to establish their cultural capital by collecting passport stamps rather than 'lifespace experiences'. I found the constructed nature of Puerto Vallarta stifling. It brings to mind BKG’s discussion of density and saturation with regards to tourist sites. She argues that industry-created lifespaces (such as resorts) are value-added and therefore more profitable than the true lifespace; furthermore, value-added lifespaces have the benefit of removing the “dead space between attractions,” thus doing away with the messy (or less attractive) aspects of real life.

Personally, I find the low-density lifespaces to be the most appealing, the nooks and crannies where lives are lived instead of performed for my benefit. In Puerto Vallarta the coastline is crammed with end-to-end resorts such that the essence of any real lifespace is all but removed. While there are still neighborhoods that retain local flavor, these are only accessible by the rickety, local bus into the hills of the inner city, leaving most tourists with a view only of the high-density spaces the industry wants them to see (recall my airplane compatriots claiming they were excited to eat and drink, never leaving the confines of their all-inclusive resort, in effect only seeing Mexico as it is assembled for them). The main resort strip in Puerto Vallarta is dually evocative of BKG’s issue of site saturation, what she describes as the influx of tourists ultimately displacing the local cultures that presented the initial appeal. In Puerto Vallarta, the old town is overrun with Hard Rock Cafes, McDonalds’ and Senor Frogs’ to the point that the historical charm is lost under the rubble of corporate capitalism and glittery, oversized sombreros vying for the all-important dollar.

All of which begs the question: as global tourism brings an influx of travelers and tourists into local lifespaces, are we subsequently eliminating the vibrancy that attracted us in the first place? Like a copy of a copy, is it possible to maintain the lifespace in a constructed and controlled environment? I highly doubt it, which forces the true traveler (in the sense of cultural adventurer) to step further and further from the beaten path. And in doing so, reveal the double-edged sword of travel: by forging a path into a heretofore 'undiscovered' village/beach/restaurant we are, in effect, opening it up as a site of tourism for those who come after us. Beneficial to the local economy but detrimental to those seeking 'authentic' experience--is there any authenticity left in the globalized world of information (and people) exchange? Do true lifespaces exist or are they merely the leftovers of tourist sites? As travel necessarily requires a degree of tourism (a traveler by any other name), these tensions weigh heavily as food for thought.

How to fight obesity with....cheeeeese!

As Americans become more directly focused on their food--where it comes from, what is in it, how much of it we consume--so too does our media spotlight the politics behind it.  This weekend a surprisingly high profile (headlining the New York Times-if you didn't catch it, you most certainly should read it!) article appeared discussing the inherent conflict that occurs when our government promotes agricultural products (essentially telling us to "eat more") and fights the rising public health crisis we call obesity (c'mon guys, "eat less").

Michael Moss's article takes a good look at government check-off programs (in this case dairy)--what are essentially public relations companies funded by levies on farmers (sanctioned by the USDA) used to promote agricultural products.  Such programs invest in science to support their products as well as general marketing campaigns the most recognizable of which is the Got Milk? campaign.  Legislation prohibits these programs from using funds for lobbying purposes, but let's face it, as far as we the consumer is concerned we see advertising not lobbying.  So while checkoff programs cannot legally influence government policy per se, they are designed to influence consumers (and don't government officials drink milk and eat cheese too?).

With the USDA due to release its most recent version of the Dietary Guidelines for Americans this December (the most visible aspect of which is the Food Guide Pyramid), one has to wonder is there no conflict of interest in a government agency that supports promotion of cheese (arguably the largest source of saturated fat in the American diet) while at the same time urging Americans to reduce their intake of saturated fat?  And what will the dairy lobby have to say this go-around?

And don't get me started on the marketing campaign ($12 million!) that Dairy Management Inc. (the organization in front of the check-off program) has revamped Domino's Pizza with.  Cleverly killing two birds with one stone, Domino's has revamped its pizzas with a new line containing 40% more cheese while publicly promoting its use of REAL cheese.  Commercials take doubting customers to the Wisconsin farm to meet the farmer who makes their cheese, playing to the all-important social value placed on knowing where your food comes from, while conveniently ignoring the exponentially increased amount of fat now present in their products--clever marketing indeed.  With pizza as one of the most commonly consumed junk foods, it's a great place to dump extra cheese (and accompanying calories) with nobody the wiser...because fat makes things taste good and hey, we're not complaining...but maybe we should be.

Lessons? I love pizza (and cheese) as much as the next guy but we'll never change our food environment until we as individuals can learn to think critically about food, not just listen to what they tell us.  (Which is exactly what they--the food industry--spend billions of dollars trying to get us not to do, because it's so much easier to believe a smartly crafted advertisement than cultivate individual analytical thought).  Look before you leap, think before you eat--who and what are you really supporting?

Halloween Horror....Hospital food dressing up as....REAL FOOD

This semester has gotten away from me and the frequency of my blogging has consequently suffered...well, luckily, a recent stint in the hospital has given me the undercover opportunity to report on everybody's favorite, hospital food.  Who makes it? Why is it so gosh darn awful? And most importantly, for "at risk" populations who are forced to consume this subsect of (dare we call it) food, why is it so nutritionally bereft?

My first hospital meal (pictured) consisted of that good old American standby, meat and potatoes.  Cubes of tough beef were stewed with chunks of potatoes, accompanied by "whipped" potatoes (which tasted suspiciously like the freeze dried, just-add-water variety) and ambiguous greens (perhaps some form of frozen spinach?).  As someone who prides myself on my culinary skills and general healthful diet I was appalled and could barely stomach what I am sure was the unhappiest of factory-raised cows, let alone synthetic potatoes.

Breakfast left more to be desired, rubber pancakes and questionable sausage sticks with a sickly sweet cherry syrup.  The lunch (right) that followed was a bologna sandwich--thin slice of bologna (the most processed of meats made from all the leftover bits they don't use, squeezed into a square with preservatives and then sliced to deli perfection) between two buttered slices of white bread accompanied by a packaged piece of wheat bread, a boxed salad with french dressing (and a loving dose of high fructose corn syrup), fruit salad (the only edible portion of the meal) and a cup of highly salted lentil/vegetable soup.

While farmers markets have been popping up near and around hospitals for a few years, there is a still a big gap between fresh fruits and vegetables outside the hospital and the food that is prepared within hospital walls.  Understandably proteins and carbohydrates are an essential part of maintaining healthy weight and energy in sick patients, but this doesn't mean the food must a) taste like rubber or b) lack any other nutritive benefit.  Our society (and hospitals) are suffering from a categorical distinction between food and nutrition.  When we think of nutrition implies fats, sugars, carbs, calories, nutrients, vitamins and minerals....science.  Whereas food symbolizes restaurant eating, the food network, cooking, pleasure, locavorism....an aesthetic.  We won't be able to treat hospital patients with good food until we realize that nutritional and pleasureful eating can be one and the same.  If positivity plays a major factor in healing, shouldn't appealing, good food be a factor in nutrition, most especially in a hospital environment?
photo courtesy of my new favorite blog: cutestfood