Thanks to Alyssa Finn for this guest post. Alyssa is getting her Masters degree in Clinical Nutrition at NYU and is a Hazon volunteer on the New York Jewish Environmental Bike Ride Exec.

Yesterday, I came home after a long bike ride in the New York sunshine. On my plate for the evening was a pile of reading in preparation for my chemistry exam the next day. I stared at the pile of books and papers. I looked longingly at my kitchen, the primary source of my procrastination.

Then I remembered: horseradish!

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I am beyond mortified. I think I missed out on my chance to join a CSA this year.

For three years, I ran Hazon’s Jewish CSA program, Tuv Ha’Aretz. During that time, CSA-related thoughts (vegetables yes, but also spreadsheets and volunteer coordination, and organizing Shabbat potlucks, and donating leftover produce to soup kitchens, etc.) dominated vast swaths of my brain, crowding out other important information like friends’ birthdays and the need to wash my bath tub.

I would complain regularly - even daily at certain times of the year - about people who could not get their act together in time to register for a CSA. Outwardly I was compassionate, of course, but inside I had no sympathy for those people who would send me frantic emails the night before vegetable pick ups started asking, “Is it too late to sign up?” What did they think this was, Fresh Direct?

After all that experience, you’d think I’d be a pro at signing *myself* up for a CSA. The first gal to send in her check, right?

Ehh..well…no. Read more »

Several months ago, The Jew & The Carrot featured the recipe for my mom’s amazing chocolate cake - the one that my brother and I begged for every birthday - mostly for the thrill of eating sweet, homemade frosting directly off the beaters.

Then yesterday, a reader sent me the following email:

“Long ago you posted a recipe for your mom’s chocolate cake. Finally I got around to making it for Shabbat dinner this past week. Since I’m really into my new camera and having lots of fun taking food pics, I thought I’d share the image. I used real roses and borage [to decorate it] too. Everyone loved the cake-the recipe is a keeper.” - Emily

With Mother’s Day coming up on Sunday, I figured now is the perfect time to share this delicious cake once again.  Happy Mother’s Day Mom! Recipes and another photo below the jump.

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Last month, right before Passover, David Elcott ripped up his lawn. This White Plains-based author/lecturer was out to prove - to himself as much as others - that you do not need years of experience to grow your own food. All you need is a desire to eat great food and a piece of fertile ground - like your lawn (or nearby community garden for city dwellers). Partnering with the COEJL blog, To Till & To Tend, we’re excited to bring you David’s first hand accounts, frustrations, and victories from the “front lines” of his lawn farm.

Operation Lawn Farm: Part 1

I was going crazy today. Tech problems with my printer took hours. Nothing accomplished. A lousy conference call committee meeting. Exhausted. At five in the evening, I took the world into grip and, like Superman, ripped off my work clothes, put on my dirty sweats and headed out to the farm.

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(x-posted from All Voices)

Yesterday, while waiting in line at Starbucks in New York City and perusing the refrigerated food case (mmm…pre-portioned cheese plates), I noticed something was different. It took a second for me to put my finger on it - like realizing that a friend got a haircut or is wearing glasses. But then it was all I could see: calories! Next to each cranberry scone and piece of chocolate-drizzled coffee cake was a small plaque bearing the name of the treat and the number of calories it contained.

As of March 31, all chain restaurants in New York City (restaurants with 15 or more outlets - Mc Donalds, The Olive Garden, TGI Fridays, and the like) were required to start posting calorie counts for all menu items in the hopes of enabling consumers to make informed (and ideally healthier) decisions. CNN reported in January:

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How does a farmer celebrate Passover? For California-based farmer Emily Freed, the seders offered the chance to celebrate both the Exodus from Mitzrayim and also the first glorious tastes of spring. Check out her beautiful photo journal below the jump.

Freed’s journey from began with her transportation of chametz to a friend’s house around the corner - by bicycle of course!

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Four years ago I stood at my stove for more than three hours and turned my kitchen into a Russian shvitz as I boiled every metal utensil, every pot, and every serving piece in both my milchig and fleishig sets. Explaining the ins and outs of Passover cleaning to friends and families who don’t keep kosher—and even understanding it myself—is an ongoing challenge. But this time around, I didn’t question the cleaning: I simply felt elated.

No doubt all that steam, the sweat pouring out of me, was cleansing. But beyond that. I was different. My dishes were still my dishes, a tad cleaner than usual, but I had changed. I’d been turned upside down, dunked head first, and what used to be on top and super-important was repositioned, minimized, shifted to the bottom of consciousness or dissolved altogether. I had a level of clarity and focus on the holiday that I often don’t. Usually I’m crazy about all the things I have to do before Pesach and end up not doing half of them. I come into the holiday frazzled.

Strangely, that year I did more, cleaned more, but I was not filled up with anxiety and to-do lists. I must have had those lists; why would that year have been different from all other years? But I wasn’t consumed by the process. I did the kashering, and everything else fell into place: the thousand details, the logistics of the switchover, chametzdik kitchen to pesachdik kitchen, the menu-making, the buying of Pesach food and selling of chametz, the emptying out of cupboards immediately followed by the loading up.

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I just had one of the most revelatory food experiences of my life, and I didn’t even eat a single bite. Read on if you’d like to see how the Broadway musical South Pacific might inspire your Passover Seder this year. Read more »

There’s nothing better than eating food that you grew yourself (or that your CSA farmer grew on your behalf), right? Well, Steve Brill thinks you can do better - by foraging your dinner.

Also known as “The Wild Man,” Brill is best known for getting arrested in Central Park in the early 80’s - for eating a dandelion. (He was charged with “defacing public property”.) Outraged - Brill called every media outlet in New York, winding up on television and the front page of several city newspapers. Soon after, the Park’s Department changed their minds - and gave him a job leading foraging tours around the Central and Prospect Park. He now leads independent tours across the Northeast showing ordinary, store-buying folks the incredible amounts of edible plant life that grows, unnoticed.

Yesterday, my boyfriend and I traveled up to Stone Barns Center for Barber’s restaurant, Blue Hill. Although we spent time wandering through Stone Barns’ impressive, sprawling greenhouse and watching a staff member buzz the thick wool off a (very pregnant) sheep, we were really there to forage with the Wild Man.

More - and photos - below the jump.

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Despite the shock value of my photos from a few days ago, Vietnam is a fascinating place to visit for the food obsessed. And while markets have always been one of my favorite places to wander through in developing countries, this was my first big trip abroad since I started thinking differently about food.

As I wrote previously, I wouldn’t recommend that people who keep kosher go there. It simply would be too hard to avoid the treyf. The default meat there is pork, and shrimp comes in a close second. It’s ironic too that one of the most common fish dishes, fish in a clay pot - a white fish coated in a delicious concoction of caramelized sugar, fish sauce, shallots, garlic, ginger and chiles, is made with catfish - once again, not kosher.
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But it sure is good to be home. For those readers who missed my series of posts about eating in Vietnam, here’s a reminder:

Dog. Cat. Porcupine. Deer.

The ‘Lonely Planet’ Guidebook describes the Vietnamese people as “fiercly omnivorous,” and I couldn’t think of a more apt description. We are not uploading photos so I can’t illustrate this post properly but today we took numerous photos of a skinned pig’s head, pig’s feet, live goats tied to a back of a motorbike, same with live chickens in a mesh cage, pigs tied in tortuous ways, the list goes on.

Greetings from Vietnam, the most unkosher place on the planet (kosher-keepers, never, ever come here, unless you plan on packing a month’s supply of canned tuna).

Below the jump, I’ve posted a few photos that give you a taste of our (for us) shocking food experiences in Viet Nam. Warning - they’re graphic, so look with caution.

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I admit it - I live in a bubble. A tiny, insulated bubble within which everyone cares about eating ethically, and while some people eat meat and some don’t, just about everyone can agree about the merits of garlic-sauteed kale. Inside my cozy world, I forget that a whole other world exists out there - but this week, my trip over to Midtown Lunch reminded me.

Midtown Lunch - an entertaining (and eminently useful!) blog that seeks out the dining gems within the culinary wasteland that is Midtown Manhattan - profiles a different Midtown employee each week. It asks them questions like, “favorite/least favorite foods,” and “if you could work anywhere in New York (just because of lunch) where would it be and why?” This past week I was profiled. I was pleased to have the opportunity to give shout outs to Hazon and The Jew & The Carrot and excited to share my dietary habits with a bunch of related strangers.

Turns out, Midtown is not the most veggie or kosher friendly place on earth. Here’s a smattering of the comments my vegetarian and kosher focused profile received:

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Thanks to Elena Sigman for this guest post.

My Tante Toni (may her memory be a sweet blessing) made a dish for Purim, called noun, which I haven’t seen since the 70s. It was my favorite treat at her house: a plate of sweet, sticky pieces of noun cut in the shape of diamonds about one-and-a-half inches long. I guessed it was made of honey and chopped nuts and dates, but I was never sure of the recipe. It was dark brown and chewy and even though it was super-sweet it was also somehow tangy. The plate was passed around the table at the end of our Purim seudah, and it was quickly finished. The batches were never big.

Tante Toni had blue eyes that were two different colors because one was hers and the other was glass. The glass eye was bluer and bigger and her real eye was smaller and more hazel. At home in the evening, she wore a hairnet in order to preserve her coiffure from erev Shabbos, after she came home from the beauty parlor, until the next Friday morning when she’d get her hair done again. She was a smart, compact woman, barely taller than my child self, but she walked with a spine so straight no runway model could match it. She never tried to make chit chat with me. When I was a kid I would occasionally sleep over at her apartment on Friday night. After dinner she read the B’nai Brith Messenger cover to cover in her high-backed chair, and I read my book (Agatha Christie mysteries one year, Pearl S. Buck novels the next) on the couch until the Shabbos clock clicked off the light.

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Almost three weeks into our trip to Vietnam, and I’ve lost count how many times we’ve uttered the following statement: “That was the best meal we’ve had in Vietnam.”  Undoubtedly, things have greatly improved since my last post - basically since we reached the central part of the country. Vegetarian restaurants are plentiful in Hue (well, maybe plentiful is an understatement, but we found and ate in two, both of which charged local prices and were excellent), and in Hoi An, where we are now, every menu we look at as numerous veggie options.

One of the highlights of our stay in Hoi An was an all-day cooking course, but I will wait until we’re home to write about it, so I can post corresponding photos.

So which meal was truly the best? It’s hard to remember them all. We continually go over them in our heads, comparing this salad and this entree and this whatever else. I will truly miss Vietnamese cuisine when we go home, even though good restaurants are not far from our home, but still, it’s just not the same.

My only regret is that we can’t make it to Ho Chi Minh City for Purim tomorrow night. There is a Chabad House there, and it would have been fun to celebrate there, but we couldn’t change our schedule around. So chag sameach. We will try to find something resembling Hamentaschen, but I don’t think a pork bun would suffice.