Jack Kerouac was a Foodie?

Dear Boo,

So Book club seems to be taking a hiatus for the summer as lots of folks (including you, my busy sister!) are having a hard time cramming in work and vacations and whatever else people do besides read. I think maybe War and Peace isn't really beach lit anyway. Before disbanding for the time being, we all began reading On the Road--a modern classic, so to speak, and a welcome change of pace after slogging tearfully through the final hundred pages of A Tale of Two Cities. Let me say this: this book is not the revelatory experience I (and so many of my male peers) felt when I picked it up in 8th grade, but it is a damn rollicking good time. It also, to my surprise, contains this tasty morsel of food writing that I just had to share. None of this "the rind of the cheese has an effervescent quality reminiscent of sipping kir royales on the balcony of my suite with the aromas of fresh papaya and beurre blanc comingling in the air which curled up to my nostrils." This is all down home American style no frills no foodie writing. This is the writing of someone who is HUNGRY.

"In the window I smelled all the food of San Francisco. There were seafood places out there where the buns were hot, and the baskets were good enough to eat too; where the menus themselves were soft with foody esculence as though dipped in hot broths and roasted dry and good enough to eat too. Just show me the bluefish spangle on a seafood menu and I'd eat it; let me smell the drawn butter and lobster claws. There were places where they specialized in thick red roast beef au jus, or roast chicken basted in wine. There were places where hamburgs sizzled on grills and the coffee was only a nickel. And oh, that pan-fried chow mein flavored air that blew into my room from Chinatown, vying with the spaghetti sauces of North Beach, the soft-shell crab of Fisherman's Wharf--nay, the ribs of Fillmore turning on spits! Throw in the Market Street chili beans, redhot, and french-fried potatoes of the Embarcadero wino night, and steamed clams from Sausalito across the bay, and that's my ah-dream of San Francisco. Add fog, hunger-making raw fog, and the throb of neons in the soft night, the clack of high-heeled beauties, white doves in a Chinese grocery window..."

DAMN. Gimme some of that.

I think if Jack Kerouac came over for dinner I'd make him meatloaf. Maybe some o them there smashed potatoes I mentioned (though I'd have to just call em potatoes because "smashed" is just too cutesy for Jack), roasted brussels sprouts and a big red velvet cake with sour cream icing. Yep, i think that's what I'd do.

In grand Kerouackian style (maybe if Jack and I were friends I'd call him Wacky Kerouacky sometimes. just to rile him up.) I'd like to put on my pretentious hat and review the dinner we just ate tonight. *

Coming up out of that intestine of the belly of the beast that is this city, that Loch Ness Monster, the subway system, I smelled the exhaust of the taxicabs, the sweat of the crowds pressing against me, the heat from the pavement. I wove through the stalls of the Farmer's Market. There were places where thousands of tiny blueberries lined the tables, where cherries reddened in the sun. There were warty squash and dirty potatoes, and corn, always corn. I bought a huge green cabbage and a dark purple onion, a single head of stinky spring garlic, and a bag full of tiny colored carrots with their stems. There was a stall with buckets of ice in the heat and scallops and tuna and ugly looking monkfish and flounder which I bought a large fillet of after the man asked me 'are you two pretty good eaters?' and I said yes and he slapped his leg and pulled a piece of fish out that spanned the width of my shoulders.

In the tiny kitchen I sauteed the cabbage with the garlic and onion and a splash of vinegar, some oil and a little melted pat of butter and loads of salt and pepper. I roasted the carrots whole with oil and salt and pepper. I dredged the fish in flour with s&p and Old Bay and chili powder. I heated up some oil in the best pan I have and laid the fish down in it ssssss on one side for a couple minutes and ssss on the other side for a couple more. it fell apart when I tried to move it but the Boo said who cares! and looks tasty! I poured some wine in the pan and a little plop of butter and cooked up some sauce and poured it with the brown bits over the broken fish and squeezed some lemon and we ate it up scooping the cabbage and fish onto pieces of crusty bread from the market and ho boy was it good. Washed down with a cold beer and sorbet. oh wait, sorbet's not very Beat, is it. Um. Cold Beer and whiskey.

So I'm breaking the blogging rule of posting lots of pictures because my battery was dead when we sat down to eat, so instead I offer you this picture of me eating cereal:


And while we're at it, please tell me you've seen this:



And, scene.

Love,
The Mouse

* For those of you keeping track, this also counts as my local meal for the week, thankyouverymuch.

An Herb Garden Grows in Manhattan

Dear Boo,

In case you were needing further proof that I'm a food nerd and slightly obsessed, I offer you this:

1) Out of hundreds of colors at the nail salon, I unknowlingly selected a lovely shade of orangey red called.... Cajun Shrimp. I kid you not.
2) I had a dream last night in which I ate a cupcake covered sky-high in bright royal blue frosting and when I woke up I said to the Boyfriend, "I'm so glad I ate the whole thing. I've had too many dreams where I turn down pastry because it's too fattening and then kick myself in the morning."
3) I actually teared up this afternoon when I discovered two little parsley shoots emerging from the pot on my windowsill.

See? Aren't they precious?



Allow me to back up...

I'm reading a book called Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver and I came across this quote that blew me away: "If every U.S. citizen ate just one meal a week (any meal) composed of locally and organically raised meats and produce, we would reduce our country's oil consumption by over 1.1 million barrels of oil every week." Damn! right?

Now, I've always wanted a garden, myself, despite the fact that I'm a) kind of lazy, and b) have a bit of a shriveled, blackened thumb. My general approach to fostering plant life has been more reactionary than nurturing, aka, if it looks like it's wilting, it's time to water it. But nonetheless, I fantasize about a home with sprawling gardens I can wander through to snip some chives and pluck some tomatoes just before serving them to my guests, still warm from the sun. Of course, in this fantasy I'm also 5'10" with long golden-brown legs and look fabulous in hats, but never you mind that.

I was recently given some seedlings by our lovely family friend who has a gorgeous garden on her roofdeck and encouraged me to try nurturing some of my own in my apartment. My dark, dark apartment. So, as you know, my home is lovely and spacious and I am very lucky. However, it is sandwiched between two tall buildings that block out all direct and even most indirect sun. If it weren't for the lone tree out my window in the courtyard below, I would have no idea what season it was, let alone the weather or time of day. Suffice it to say it's a bit of a challenge to grow anything under these conditions. But after reading that quote, I am determined to do my part to eat locally. Very, very locally, in this case. I know I won't ever produce enough basil or tomatoes or peppers (my three babies) to feed myself an entire meal, but it's the spirit of the thing. And in that spirit, and in solidarity with you as you embark on this journey of brown rice and salmon, I have vowed to eat one meal a week composed of entirely locally grown elements. With the farmers market mere blocks away and fresh direct's "local" section delivered right to my door, I have no excuse. Also, it's practically summer which means we should all be eating more fresh fruits and veggies. Here is my first attempt at a local lunch...



Asparagus from the farmers market sauteed with spring garlic (ditto) and olive oil (not local, but come on...)and
Red Potato Salad with Yogurt-Herb Dressing:Boil 1 lb small red potatoes (local) until tender. Cool in the fridge. In the meantime, whisk together 1 cup yogurt (local), 1/4 C sauteed spring garlic (same--you get the pattern here), 2 tablespoons white wine vinegar, 1 tablespoon olive oil, salt and pepper. When potatoes are cool, pour dressing over them and toss. Add one bunch chopped fresh dill and one small bunch chopped fresh cilantro. Mix together and reseason if need be.
Plate up the asparagus and potatoes salad and add a couple slices of local cheese like coach farms goat cheese, or a soft-boiled locally raised egg with salt and pepper, and you've done your part to reduce our dependence on oil. The earth and your belly thank you.

Love,
Mouse

Hungry For More?
Go here to read a NY Times article about research of the health benefits of eating locally.