Pears and Cheese and Pasta, Oh My!

Last Friday night we got together with friends Nancy, Steph and Jane at Jane's house... we shared a lovely bottle of wine that Jane had given us over the holidays. A 2006 dry Chenin Blanc by Dry Creek vineyards. Excellent and lovely, just the perfect, light fruitiness that I love.

We also had the most excellent dish from my new Bon Appetit cookbook. I bought Fast Easy Fresh a few weeks ago, but then I got a cold and my desire to cook anything more than Tom Yum went right out the window. So, when we spoke with Jane about having a get together, she graciously let me choose what I wanted to cook from the new cookbook and then delegated complementary sides and appetizers for everyone else. This is what good friends do.

It was so great to get together and hang out with these great women. But, I have to say that what is sticking in my head is how much fun it was to talk books with Jane's younger son. He named off his favorites: the Pendragon and Redwall series made the top of the list, and it was so cool for Gabi and me to be able to say that we had read those books too. And we suggested he try the Skullduggery Pleasant books, because they are just exceptionally fun.

I made Linguine with Pears and Gorgonzola Cheese. Wow. I didn't adjust the recipe at all, and it was so good. The flavors are lovely and perfectly balanced, and the light sweetness of the pears plays off perfectly with the cheese ~ which is much more subtle than you might expect, given the strength and general smelliness of gorgonzola. Also, the meal comes together very quickly but has an elegant "feel." Perfect dinner party fare. My friends loved it. We all had seconds. One of them had fourths!

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Linguine with Pears and Gorgonzola Cheese

from  The Bon Appetit Fast Easy Fresh Cookbook, (c) 2008. By Barbara Fairchild.

1/4 cup (1/2 stick) butter

4 firm pears (about 2 pounds), peeled, cored, cut into 1/3-inch strips

1 tablespoon chopped fresh rosemary

1 cup low-sodium chicken broth

4 ounces Gorgonzola cheese, crumbled (about 1 cup)

3/4 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese, divided

1/2 cup heavy whipping cream

12 ounces linguine

1/3 cup chopped pecans

Melt butter in heavy large skillet over medium-high heat. Add pears; saute until tender and beginning to brown but not soft, about 8 minutes. Using slotted spoon, carefully transfer pears to bowl. Add rosemary to skillet and stir until fragrant, about 1 minute. Add broth, Gorgonzola cheese, 1/2 cup Parmesan, and cream. Simmer until sauce thickens enough to coat spoon, whisking occasionally, about 6 minutes. Return pears and any accumulated juices to sauce.

Do Ahead: Sauce can be made 2 hours ahead. Let stand at room temperature. Bring to simmer before continuing.

Cook linguine in large pot of boiling salted water until just tender but still firm to bite, stirring occasionally. Drain; return pasta to pot. Add sauce and pecans to pasta; toss over medium-low heat until sauce coats pasta, about 3 minutes. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Transfer to a large bowl. Sprinkle with remaining 1/4 cup Parmesan cheese.

Sending out a little hope

I wrote a while ago about receiving a letter from Kodjo, the son of my best Togolese friend while I was in the Peace Corps. We've been e-mailing Kodjo regularly, and it's been great to re-form that connection after years of quiet. It has been heartbreaking as well, so much so that I hope you will forgive me as I step onto my soapbox.

Some of you may know, but most probably do not, that Togo has had a rough year. The economy is poor here, but it is devastatingly weak there. Prices for staples like rice and flour have soared as the US has redirected corn toward ethanol instead of food for people or animals. As if that weren't enough, Togo was hit with devastating floods in July, washing out bridges on the main highway, destroying homes and villages, and killing many people. This natural disaster has compounded the economic one because it has made travel and trade between the cities and outlying areas much more difficult.

The floods have brought a lot of misery to the region, but we've played our part as well. Just in case you are not clear on why we, US citizens, share at least some of the responsibility for the dire circumstances in places like Togo, here is a brief and basic synopsis.

The US has enormous power to force "Free Trade Agreements" on developing nations like Togo (the US / World Bank forgives and/or reconfigures national debt in return for signing on the dotted line). These trade agreements push developing nations away from growing enough of their staple food crops to be self-sustaining. Instead, Free Trade has meant that farmers in developing countries are encouraged to grow cash crops like coffee, cocoa and cotton, and to do so in such a way that many of the villagers are able to move to cities where they can make shoes, clothing and many of the things that allow Walmart to maintain its famously low prices. In return, developing countries import food crops such as corn and wheat that we grow in surplus. In the lovely land of theory, the benefit to this is that the local farmers will make money from the cash crops, more than enough to purchase the food they need, our corporate agri-business will have foreign markets for the food crops they grow across the midwest. Oh, and we'll be able to drive to the local mega-mart and buy "cheap plastic crap."

And we ~ you, me, our families and neighbors ~ are culpable because we elect people and then pay little attention to what they agree to in international trade agreements or the farm bill. And too many of us never wonder whether there are consequences beyond our own bank accounts and immediate self-interest.

Now, throw corn-based ethanol into the mix, and the fields that were full of food-grade corn or wheat or barley are being used for ethanol-grade corn. Corn that was going to feed cattle is also redirected, the prices pushed up prohibitively high, and so the feed lots and ranchers purchase barley and other grains. The domino effect ensues, and the prices for these other grains skyrockets right along with corn.

However, the income for the farmers growing cotton in Togo has not risen, and they are using all their means to cultivate cotton so that they don't have enough food crops to feed their families. Look further east, and it's the same, as the rice paddies in Vietnam have been turned into coffee plantations to bring us our cheap cup of Folgers, and so the developing nations find themselves in the horrific place of having too few people on too few acres of arable land growing food crops. Food prices soar and people go hungry.

I saw this happening first-hand when I was a Peace Corps volunteer. I was sent to Togo to educate and encourage farmers ~ who had been hand-tilling small family plots of yams, corn, tomatoes, other food crops ~ to begin using oxen to till larger parcels of land. And to grow cotton. What I discovered was a situation that often resulted in the farmers becoming something like indentured servants. The Togolese government provided the loans for the cattle and accompanying training, as well as the loans for the cotton seed. Then, the government also set the price for cotton. The end result was that the absolute only way that a farmer could dig himself out of the debt incurred from purchasing oxen was to grow virtually no food, use all available land for cotton, and to dump loads of chemicals into the soil to produce the largest yields possible.

Oh, and I must point out that, while DDT and similar pesticides are banned in the US, there is still a thriving market for them in places like Togo. And, contrary to their manufacturer's evident hypothesis, the side-effects aren't lessened just because it's a developing nation.

So, back to our friends, Kodjo and Adjo, and their mother Afoua...

Kodjo is a student at Lome University, Adjo is in high school (and high school in Togo costs almost as much as the university). The rising prices have left them without funds for school, and Afoua is without enough for food. She is also chronically ill. So we are helping them.

I don't know if it makes it better or only more sad that for a little over $400 we can send Kodjo and Adjo to school for a year and provide Afoua with enough money for food and medicine. The money is not insignificant to us, but it's brutally significant to them. We will have to make adjustments, but they get education and some health care.

I am glad that our current presidential candidates are talking a lot about the economy. However, while they argue about tax cuts and job cuts and the banking and mortgage crisis for us, it is my very dear wish that they'd also think and talk a little about our influence in far-off, tiny countries like Togo.

The Fruit Season

We’re coming into the time of year that I love: fruit season.

I just came home from grocery shopping, and it was almost an overwhelming experience. The smell of ripe peaches stretched across aisles, pulling me right past the cookies without even a pause for temptation. A beautiful display of melons greeted me as well, half a dozen varieties laid out in neat rows like organic, geometric art.

I came home with a Crenshaw and sliced it up immediately. It’s so sweet and juicy. Lovely beyond reason.

I also brought home gorgeous organic strawberries and avocados. I wanted to bring home peaches and plumicots and nectarines as well, but there’s the small problem of eating all this bounty. I’ll go back for more in a couple days, when I’ve finished the melon and berries.

In the meantime, this feast of fruit made me think of when I was a kid in California. We had apricot and mulberry trees, and I spent many a summer morning and afternoon high in the branches, gobbling up sun warmed, perfectly ripened fruit.

To give the full picture, I must digress. We lived on the desert, so trees were precious. To grow the trees strong and healthy, my parents came up with a solution that sounds “green” now but was merely cost effective and sensible thirty years ago. They redirected water from the washing machine and used it to water the trees. We had a huge, black pvc-type hose that we moved from tree to tree, filling the wide, deep reservoir around every elm, cottonwood and mulberry.

Along with the trees, the wash-water made the grass grow as well, and we had a lovely little glade behind the house that was like an oasis in the desert: speckled with shade from the trees, lush with grass from all that carefully directed water.

And, we had horses. Specifically, I had a pony, at one time two. Peanuts and Goldie are the ones I remember the best.

When the mulberries ripened I would take my pony to the tree, drop the lead so that she could graze on deep grass, and stand on her back so that I could reach the higher branches where the larger, plumper berries waited. By then I’d stripped the bottom branches, and the birds had plundered the outer reaches, so the best berries were those that were sheltered between. Sometimes my best friend Leslie joined me, with her pony, and we feasted until our faces and hands turned purple.

When we moved to Northern Nevada, when I was 15, one of the first things my mom did was plant more mulberry trees. When we spoke last weekend she told me that she expects a bumper crop this year and is looking forward to lots of cobblers and jam.

Now, far away from California and Nevada, Gabi and I have a white mulberry tree in our yard and there’s a sweeter, more familiar purple variety on the empty lot next door. In years past we’ve never gotten much from the purple tree because our nephews and niece, who lived just behind the empty lot, would strip all the berries as soon as they hinted at pink. Perhaps because there were four of them competing for the berries on one small tree, they never waited until the berries were really ripe before picking them. And I, spoiled from growing up on plump, sweet berries so ripe they fell with the light touch of a single finger, never could bring myself to eat many of that tart, pink fruit.

But last year there was a separation and dislocation, and now our kids don’t live next door anymore. This morning I went to check on the tree to see what kind of gifts it would be giving us this year.

And I found that the tree has died. There’s not so much as a single leaf on those grey branches. And definitely no fruit.

Photo credits: I found both these images on Flickr. The lovely shot of a rainbow over Bell Mountain is by Y. Sky atwww.flickr.com/photos/ysky/389806234. And the equally lovely pic of mulberries is at www.flickr.com/photos/25454549@N03/2586274355

The numbers game

I'm feeling a little joyous today... I've lost just over 20 pounds since the beginning of the year. It feels like it's coming off so slowly, but we are told that that is the healthiest way to do it.

Since January Gabi and I have been counting every single calorie we eat. We have a food journal that we keep, and by doing it together we've kept each other honest and motivated. She's lost a lot of weight too, so the process is getting us both healthier.

Calorie counting is something that I resisted for years. I just would not go there. Finally, however, the time was right and for whatever reason I was willing to start. It's been illuminating. The most amazing part had been just realizing how many calories are in certain foods. For example, I'd always pretty much figured that a hamburger and fries would have lots of calories. No big surprise there. A whole day's worth of calories gobbled up in one meal.

But did you realized that there are 500 calories in the cinnamon chip scones that you can get at Caribou coffee?

I used to eat one of those every week or two. I just assumed it was okay, I mean, it's just bread, right? But no, I'd have to walk for over two hours to burn off the calories from just one scone. I haven't had one since I made this discovery.

Another consequence of my number obsession is that I'm not just eating better food vis-a-vis nutrition, I'm eating better tasting food as well. If I'm going to eat it, then it's got to past the is it worth the calories? test. Lots of things don't pass the test. Store-bought cakes and muffins? Nope. Fast food burgers? Nada.

If I'm going to let myself indulge, I'm going for the best I can get. I found the most exquisite, small-batch cheese at Byerly's a couple of weeks ago. Intense, nutty, tangy. Just a little piece is heavenly, and makes it easy to pass up mass-produced cheddar. When we were really craving burgers and fries, we went to Granite City Brewery for their bleu cheese burgers and waffle fries, and we split an order. Really good.

One other good thing I've discovered, a small glass of red wine is only about 75 calories, and so it's easy to "make room" for that once or twice a week. It's a small but pleasant indulgence. And since we've discovered Our Daily Red organic wine, I can drink it without getting sick.

All to the good.

Video Recommendation: King Corn

Thanks to TiVo, today I watched a great documentary called King Corn, about two guys from Boston who spend a year growing and researching corn. King Corn was shown on PBS's Independent Lens last week.

First off, I just love documentaries and books like this: take a topic that seems so mundane and everyday and tease out the fascinating political, economic, and social issues that swirl around it.

The salient features:
1. Beginning in the 1970's, farmers were paid (by the gov't) to grow more corn than we as a country could reasonably use for food purposes.
2. Due to huge surpluses of corn, we developed new ways to use the grain, most notably animal feed and high-fructose corn syrup.
3. Cattle get sick living on a diet of primarily corn, and we get sick from taking in so much of the sweet/starchy corn-based additives in processed food.

My only complaint about the film is that it did not address the environmental impact of turning thousands and thousands of acres of land over to this monoculture -- it doesn't address pesticide use, loss of habitat and ecozones, drops in populations of indigenous bird and animal species, algae blooms in rivers and lakes due to fertilizer run-off, etc.

However, the filmmakers do a good job of providing a film that is both entertaining and thought-provoking. If you can't find a showing or the DVD, here's an interview with Curt Ellis, one of the filmmakers.