Wild Fermentation

Wild Fermentation, by Sandor Katz

I'm starting to get way out there about my food... are you worried for me yet? The more I read, the more I am convinced that basically every culture has healthier food than Americans. The further back in history, the more nutritious the food. For example, if you go back several generations, women canned their own produce from their gardens. Better than supermarket food, right? Well, if you go back even further, before canning was invented, people used a process called "lacto-fermentation" to preserve food.

Lacto-fermentation used good bacteria to kill bad bacteria and in the process it actually adds nutrition to the raw ingredients. Here's an excellent article citing a USDA official who says it's actually safer than eating the raw produce from the fields (found via Food Renegade). My husband is totally repulsed by this method, but it's the same process that gives us yogurt, cheese, wine, beer, chocolate, black tea... you know, the good stuff!

I've made a few things using this method before, but reading this inspired me to start doing it again. Here's what's in my fridge right now:

From left to right, pickles, saurkraut, pickles, ginger carrots, pineapple chutney, and more saurkraut. The pickles ended up kind of yucky, maybe because I used the wrong kind of salt. They taste a little bitter and are carbonated, wierdly enough. As they say around here, that aint right. The saurkraut is a terrific condiment for red meats, although it discolors a bit after opening. The carrots are good with chicken and Asian dishes, and I haven't tried the chutney yet--it's on next week's menu.

I think most people who object to this book fall into two camps: either they are grossed out by the concept of using bacteria to preserve food, or they are offended by the author. Here is some philosophical musing on the two subjects.

I proudly call myself a follower of Jesus ("Christian" has lots of baggage, but I call myself that too). We are called to improve the world, just like Jesus redeemed us and made us a new creation. Eden wasn't a pristine wilderness--it was a cultivated garden. (Actually, part of the Curse was being rejected from Eden and forced to live in the wild, which is the best argument this bookworm has against recreational camping.) In the same vein, heaven is not clouds in the sky, but a dazzling city. God took us out of all of the crap that accompanies our humanity and instead applied the purity of the only perfect human, his own son Jesus. We are supposed to use God's law to transform our lives into what He intended for us in the first place. Ultimately, human being's mission on earth, and my job here right now, is to improve our immediate environment, redeem culture, and eventually transform the world. In practical terms, this means I'm not a raw foodist--I try to improve upon what God has given us, and that includes even small little details like making traditional saurkraut so that a lowly cabbage has extra flavor and nutrients. Theology always has consequences.

Which leads me to the author, who is also living out the practical implications of his worldview. He is gay, and lives in a self-described queer community in rural Tennessee. They live off the power grid and are self-sufficient. That community also wants to remake society, but in a way totally opposed to the Bible. I admire him for living out the implications of his idealogy. Frankly, I'd rather read books by people who are thinking and doing, rather than something like Julie and Julia, where the author just does random stuff to fulfill her angst. (But that's another book review.) I was surprised to read how offended people were on the Amazon reviews. There's nothing in here remotely obscene and gives about the same story you could find in a New York Times article.

I'm mostly using the recipes from Nourishing Traditions, but I like the scope of recipes and the ease of use. The author has a "try it and see" approach which is fun and relaxed. I recommend this book if you're interested in better food and better health.

Good Calories, Bad Calories

Good Calories, Bad Calories by Gary Taubes

The more I learn, the more I am convinced that if a scientific idea is popular, it is most likely untrue. Examples?
The four humors determine one's personality.
The sun revolves around the earth.
Leeches can cure a fever.
If a woman floats, she's a witch.
I'm sure you're nodding your head and rolling your eyes about those ancient, ignorant people. But what about our enlightened modern times? You might also believe, for example, that Americans are responsible for global warming. Did that one hit a little closer to home? No? Okay, how about this: maybe you think, like I used to, that saturated fat causes heart disease, eating fat is bad for weight loss, and lots of dietary fiber prevents colon cancer. Nutritionally speaking, this book rocked my socks.

Good Calories, Bad Calories was written by a distinguished science writer, not some dietary crusader. He seems to be writing for others in the scientific community and not the average Joe, so this book is quite technical, and frankly, a little too thorough for my sleep-deprived mommy brain. It's easy to get lost in the myriad of studies, interviews, hearings, and medical journals; I wish I would have taken notes as I read it. It would have helped me better summarize it for you, dear reader, and better argue with my husband about the best route to weight loss. I bogged down in chapter 9, when trying to keep track of the five different lipoproteins carried in triglycerides. I need to finish it later when I don't have a baby and a toddler competing for my attention. (I might watch this 1 1/2 hour webcast sometime when I don't want to read the entire book. What I did read, however, was thoroughly convincing and I'm already trying to eat differently based on what I learned.

He starts off with a brief bio of William Banting, who I had never heard of before. He describes how America, and then the rest of the world, came to believe ideas that are just plain wrong. For instance, did you know that high cholesterol is associated with longer life, especially in women? Indigenous people groups who eat no fiber have the healthiest digestion? And what we think of as common health problems (cavities, cancer, appendicitis, or really, almost every chronic disease) are almost totally absent in native, traditional diets. To make a sweeping generalization, not all calories are the same. Refined carbohydrates such as sugar, white flour, and white rice wreak havoc on our bodies. Here's an excerpt from the Prologue (page xvii):

The reason for this book is straightforward: despite the depth and certainty of our faith that saturated fat is the nutritional bane of our lives and that obesity is caused by overeating and sedentary behavior, there has always been copious evidence to suggest that those assumptions are incorrect, and that evidence is continuing to mount. "There is always an easy solution to every problem," H. L. Menken once said--"neat, plausible, and wrong." It is quite possible, despite all our faith to the contrary, that these concepts are such neat, plausible, and wrong solutions. Moreover, it's also quite possible that the low-fat, high-carbohydrate diets we've been told to eat for the past shirty years are not only making us heavier but contributing to other chronic diseases as well.

This book is just as much an indictment of modern science as it is an expose of nutrition. It's amazing to read how researchers and policy-makers became even more committed to certain hypotheses with overwhelming evidence to the contrary. To paraphrase that old saying about law, bad science makes bad food.

Tender at the Bone

Tender at the Bone, by Ruth Reichl

I read Reichl's Garlic and Saphires a few years ago and really enjoyed it, and I finally got around to trying her earlier writing. I woke up hungry around midnight this week, so I got some food and started reading this book. I finished my snack, and then finished the book! It's 282 pages, and I read it all in one night. That's how much I enjoyed it.

Reichl is not only a foodie with serious street cred, but also an excellent writer. As one Amazon review said, "Ruth writes with all her senses." This book isn't so much about the food itself, but used food to explain the times, the places, and the people. She included recipes at the end of each chapter which added dimension to the story.

Essentially this is a coming-of-age story from the sixties and seventies, but don't let that scare you off: this one is actually good. Reichl's mother was manic-depressive who totally ignored food safety rules. Growing up, Reichl felt compelled to protect the family's guests from her mother's moldy dishes, which evolved into a love of good food. Her WASP-y upbringing was completely skewed because of her mother, who would do things like drop her off without warning at a French-Canadian Catholic boarding school, "so you can learn a second language!" She had went to college as far away from her family as she could, and did things like visit Tunisia, as a newlywed she shared a NY flat with others to make rent, attended Studio 54, and lived in a California commune. At its heart, this book is about growing up in a crazy time, loving your crazy friends, trying to escape crazy family members, having crazy adventures, and yet making the decision to stay sane.

The Tenth Muse

The Tenth Muse: My Life in Food, by Judith Jones

Yup, another food book. This was an interesting memoir by an interesting woman. She had a WASP-y childhood but ended up living in Paris after WWII and working for a publisher. She loved good food and she came into her own when living in Paris. It opened her eyes to a new way of eating, and she combined her love of food with her literary career by searching out good writing about food. She worked with Julia Child, and they ended up publishing "Mastering the Art of French Cooking," which changed how Americans cooked. I didn't realize how influential is was until I read this book. Judith Jones then sought out other ethnic food cook book authors. After a while, she realized she was what she called a "food snob" and started looking for authentic American cuisine. Through many travels with her equally food-focused husband, from Appalachia to Vermont to Paris to Bali, they found and celebrated good food.

I also enjoyed her writing about her friendships with food giants like MFK Fisher, James Beard, and Julia Child. Other cookbook authors I want to find now are Nina Simonds, Edna Lewis, Claudia Roden, Madhur Jaffrey, Marion Cunningham.... The end of the book is a collection of recipes which mirrors the different stages of her life. I think it was generous of her to share what she loved, and her passion made the book a great read.

Here's the last two paragraphs of the book, which sums it up, I think.

"Moreover, I always take home new tastes and new challenges, so my table for one is constantly changing. And friends and family who partake of my fare are, I hope, never bored. There is an old Italian saying, A tavola non s'invecchia--"At the table one never grows old." Isn't that reason enough to come home at the end of the day, roll up one's sleeves, fire up the stove, and start smashing the garlic?
As Brillat-Savarin wrote: 'The pleasures of the table are for every man, of every land, and no matter of what place in history or society, they can be part of all his other pleasures, and they last the longest to console him when he has outlived the rest.'"

The Omnivore's Dilemna

The Omnivore's Dilemma, by Michael Pollan


It seems I've been a bit food-obsessed lately. I can't help it--I love to eat. But as you learn in this book, the question "What should I eat?" is a difficult one. If you're a koala bear, it's simple: you eat eucalyptus leaves. If you're a rat, a fellow omnivore, it's a bit more complicated. If you're a human with taste, traditions, societal conventions, history, grocery budgets, and a moral conscience, it's enough to fill a 500-page book.

I recommend this book highly. The author makes science approachable and links different ways to eat through a narrative, which makes the sometimes-abstract subject much more interesting. He divides the book into three foods, corn, grass, and fungi, which parallels different ways of eating: Industrial, part of the military-industrial commercial way of eating subsidized by the US government and heavy reliance on oil; Pastoral, comprehensive small farms where every form of food ultimately goes back full circle to rich soil and vibrant grass; and Personal, where modern hunter-gatherers use the forest (or suburbs, or cities) to find wild food.

For me, nothing in the book was revolutionary, because I already eat differently than your average American. I have celiac disease, I like good food, and I'm trying to be healthy, so that limits most fast food, prepared food, and restaurant food. This did go more into detail about some things I wished I didn't know, like about CAFOs: confined animal feedlot operations. So sad--these animals wouldn't exist if it weren't for us, and I think we have an obligation to treat them better. Or, how much oil is consumed for food. Between fertilizer, preservatives, tractors, diesel trucks and transportation, it's staggering. And unappetizing.

The hero of the books ends up being Joel Salatin, who actually lives not that far away from me. He owns Polyface Farms, and describes himself as a "Christian-conservative-libertarian-environmentalist-lunatic farmer." My kind of guy! His worldview is admirable, and more comprehensive than I can describe here. The author spent a week working on his farm, and as a Christian, this passage particularly resonated with me:

"As I stumbled up the hill, I was struck by how very beautiful the farm looked in the hazy early light. The thick June grass was silvered with dew, the sequence of bright pastures stepping up the hillside dramatically set off by broad expanses of blackish woods. Birdsong stitched the thick blanket of summer air, pierced now and again by the wood clap of chicken pen doors slamming shut. It was hard to believe this hillside had ever been the gullied wreck Joel had described at dinner, and even harder to believe that farming such a damaged landscape so intensively, rather than just letting it be, could restore it to health and yield this beauty. This is not the environmentalist's standard prescription. But Polyface is proof that people can sometimes do more for the health of a place by cultivating it rather than by leaving it alone."

I think this is what we are called to do as humans, and especially as Christians. We're supposed to work hard to improve the health of the land, the animals, and our families. The way America currently eats is doing none of those things, but as individuals, we have the choices available to us. Or rather, dilemmas.

The Improvisational Cook

The Improvisational Cook, by Sally Schneider

I think I have a girl crush on the author, Sally Schneider. I want to buy her a dozen roses so she'll cook me dinner. I had heard her speak several times on one of my favorite podcasts, The Splendid Table, but it did not prepare me for the magic that is her cookbook.

Just to look at it, it's a beautiful book. The photos alone will inspire improvisation. But content is solid. I don't normally review cookbooks, art books, how-to books, or the like on this site, but I'm so impressed with this that I had write about it. Plus, in case you were my honey and realizing that my birthday is soon and looking for a gift, there's a handy Amazon.com link at the top of the page. (Or, hypothetically speaking, this book would also be appreciated. Just in case.)


The author introduces her approach by describing how to know what flavors go with what, how to find inspiration, essential ingredients, etc. Then in the recipe section, she takes a basic recipe and gives a little background, explains the technical side of it, and then gives at least four or so riffs on the recipe as examples of how to continue on your own. I like the approach, and I like her overall philosophy of food, too. She uses whole foods, good herbs, high quality fats, and organic when possible: No bottled steak sauce or dried ranch dressing envelopes here. Her ingredients can be more gourmet than our grocery budget would allow for, but she gives so many different options it's not a big deal. I learned the most from the sections entitled "Long-Keeping Staples for Pantry, Refrigerator, and Freezer" and "A Guide to Classic Flavor Affinities".

I've only made two recipes so far, but they've both been great. The master cornbread recipe (Crackling Cornbread, p. 261) produced the best cornbread I think I've ever eaten. Here's the part I liked especially:

"Note: to render bacon fat, cook several slices of bacon in a covered skillet over moderate heat until crisp. Strain the fat into a bowl for easy measuring. Refrigerate unused fat. (Eat the crisp bacon.)"

Now how could you not like a cookbook like that?