It's Our Right to Know!

Busy weekend getting those garden beds started? Well, before you plant all those tomatoes, check out the Label GMO's site. They even print the reminder on seed packets.

Pretty scary to think of how many innocent little seeds are genetically modified! We can change it, or at least make people even more aware of their food choices.

Happy planting!

And here's the link to Rare Seeds for all your heirloom needs.

Lessons Learned from Live Chats

I needed the better part of the weekend to recover from a live chat on Friday discussing the future of food writing. (Okay, so there were some parties, too.) But seriously, for the precious pearls of wisdom gained from seasoned writers dishing out free advice, there was an awful lot to sift through.

My initial response is I needed to do some research on chat guidelines to make sure I wasn't missing the mark. I found this great article at smallbiztrends.com for a little reassurance that my "virtual whiplash" as one tweeted was not unfounded.

The author Lisa Barone wrote, "If you’re not familiar with them, a Twitter chat is a guided conversation where users interested in a particular topic hop onto the service to chat. The chat is given a hashtag, which makes it easy for anyone looking in to identify the chat and participate. It’s similar to a chat room in that it’s a topic-driven conversation happening in real time; it just happens to be housed on Twitter."


I couldn't have found a better way to say that. She also suggests researching the chat topics beforehand, participating, asking questions, and taking advantage of the chat as a networking tool. All great advice! 


Not sure if this chat was different, or just very busy from a lot of users. I found the re-tweeting got too heavy and created a lot of distance between answers to questions. In an active chat with an experienced panel, I would prefer to keep the little chit chat down so it is easier to follow. 


Favorite things said:


Monica Bhide: parting words: write because you love it. Do it consistently and do it persistently.. The rewards are priceless. :-)

Dianne Jacob: Writers are sensitive. Rejection can be difficult. The most important thing is to keep at it & believe in yourself.


Adam Roberts (Amateur Gourmet): My take on #futurefoodwriting: you can work your way up through established channels or create your own channel. I suggest the latter.


The Foodie Bugle: If food writers don't focus on showcasing artisanal food producers they'll have very little to write about in the future.


Dan Lepard: You are better than today's writing, or tomorrows. Aim to be clearer, gritter every time.

Picky Eaters Need Not Apply

If love is a transcending experience, then I’m convinced food is the barometer for it.

I’ve theorized about this subject in the past, but pushed it aside when I stumbled upon dating prospects who lack an interest in food. I almost saw this as a redeeming quality, for perhaps I could be the one to give them a new appreciation. I now realize what a mistake that was.

My last few dating attempts proved this theory and could have spared me a lot of time and heartbreak had I recognized it at the time.

Most recently was Jim, your classic meat and potatoes guy- but way down at the Hamburger Helper and boxed mashed potato end. You all know him- this is the guy who orders chicken parmesan at a nice restaurant and it’s the most exotic thing he’s ever had. He refuses to eat anything green besides Caesar salad, but thinks he’s health conscious by drinking protein shakes and eating egg white omelettes. 

Being with him made me think of the cowboy’s credo from City Slickers, that food should be “hot, brown, and there’s plenty of it.” He cringed when I made him runny yolk scrambled eggs cooked in bacon fat. Even when he couldn’t deny how much more delicious they were than his bland, low cholesterol preference, I could tell he was calculating how many extra miles he’d have to run to make up for the damage.

He also hated dessert. I can’t even get started on this. 

Next was Adrian, who had the palate of a 5-year-old. Though I must give him credit for trying new things, he would squeeze his eyes shut upon tasting the tiniest speck of something unfamiliar as if it was burning his lips. He’d then promptly announce, “I don’t like it.” He hated everything.  

I must take responsibility, for even on the first date, I was forewarned. After singing the praises of cheese due to my Wisconsin upbringing, he paused before flatly responding, “I don’t like cheese.” This alone was worthy of being a deal breaker. As I let the statement fully resonate, he turned to me and reassured me, “But I do love pizza.” I ignored my intuition and forged on, since his snarky puns were priceless and mozzarella cheese is only four bucks a pound.

Danny was the most difficult to pin-point. He loved food and cooking new things, he was open-minded to food adventures and curious about trends and the buzz. For this, my hat goes off to him as he coins himself a “wannabe foodie.” Going out to eat with him was a blast, so long as I discreetly added a few bucks to his tip on our way out, but that’s another story. We never went to the same place twice, he was humble and not afraid to ask questions about the menu, and there was nothing he wouldn’t try. 

For me, the mismatch lay in how he ate. He was someone who would eat a candy bar with a knife and fork. When we cooked together, he would gingerly roll up his sleeves over his delicate corporate wrists and touch food with his fingertips to avoid getting too dirty. He hounded me when I added things to the pot, asking “how much salt was that?” or “is this considered a small dice or a brunoise?” I don’t know, it’s an 8-o’clock-and-we-haven’t-had-dinner-yet chop. He wasn’t amused.

And why did you continue? you ask. I have no excuse. Maybe I didn’t want to discriminate against anti-foodies or be a food snob. Maybe I wanted to be the mentor they needed to break the chain of being a bad eater. Or maybe I was just following my heart when I should have followed my stomach.

Approach love and cooking with reckless abandon, they say. Can you do one recklessly and not the other? If one can’t comfortably rub a chicken in butter or do blind taste tests when I hold out a spoon, how can they possibly love me when I come home from work with flour in my hair and chocolate on the backs of my arms? 

The beauty of love is in spontaneity and the adventure of the unknown. The beauty of food is trying new things, exploring another culture and breaking from pattern and comfort. In a busy world of routine, food can be the most accessible way to make each day different and memorable. What other way could a relationship deepen than with a dose of dining together with a little spontaneity in the menu? For many couples, breaking bread is the only quality time they can get on a daily basis.

So gentlemen, I implore you. Let her eat off your plate. Try what she has when she holds out her fork. Order dessert. Bring home that weird thing you saw at the grocery store. Even if it turns out to be terrible, you will probably have a new inside joke or learn something about your loved one.

In Defense of Blogging

There's something that's been eating at me all week. I'll just let it all out, dear reader.

Last week in my creative writing class, my teacher was discussing point of view. Since I write primarily in 1st person narrative and have a strong base for language, I felt pretty clear on this, but wondered if I wavered into 2nd at times.

"So what about that conversational type of writing where you are addressing the reader as 'you?' Like you often see in blogs as though telling a story to a best friend? Does that waver into 2nd person?"

Well, the gist of the answer was no, it is still 1st person unless the author is writing as if YOU baked a cake, YOU took a writing class, YOU are the character in the events.

But what got to me was that my beloved teacher wrinkled her nose and said, "Sloppy writing. That's the style of blogging."

I was disappointed, even a tiny bit crushed she felt that way. I'm sure many writers and academics feel the same.

Then I felt defensive. Blogging has not necessarily changed my life, but it has certainly given me more of a direction in my writing. It has increased my output, and encouraged me to write. Every day. (For a writer, this is huge.) It has pushed me to become more familiar with the computer and to share my work and bring it to light from mere musings hidden between the pages of countless notebooks. It has made me take a started thought and finish it, even if it is simply about a cracker tin or a rock that inspired me.

I want to think that readers feel the same- that they are reading everyday and joining in a community of followers with common interests. I love that the Pioneer Woman makes me smile and feel lighter just by posting a photo of her goofy Bassett Hound, Charlie, wearing nerd glasses. I love that I get to see what adventures my friends, Amanda Rae and Georgia Pellegrini are up to each day. Just by showing up and reading, makes me part of the connectedness, the adventure. And if that's simply from being addressed like I'm an old friend from far away, then I am totally more than okay with that.

I have to acknowledge that not all posts are created equal, that there will be days that you don't give a tinker's toot about what I had for breakfast or where I took a walk, and that other blogs may generate a similar response. But even if there is one day where you can relate to my experience, or be entertained, or inspired, or annoyed, or enchanted, or opposed, or amused, or interested from something you've read, then isn't that the point? Doesn't that make it worth it? I mean, sloppy? Really?

There is something beautiful about stream-of-consciousness, unedited thought. Why should James Joyce have all the fun? And glory?

So until my next great American novel is published, and as I try to hone my craft, come out of my shell, and try to take advantage of the delicate mysteries of life and the human experience, I want to keep sharing them with you, even if we've never met, as intimately as I know how.

Slops and all.