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 With two food stories in the last week that couldn’t be more different, I am reminded of the reality of what food is: absolutely essential to survival, but at the same time so intensely personal as to defy anything that remotely smacks of trend.
Personally, I subscribe to the local is best belief – with major exceptions for avocadoes, pineapple, bananas and whole host of other things from chocolate to Italian olive oil – knowing full well that there are people out there who could care less where their MacDonald’s comes from.
While some food trends are better than others, there are no truths, there are no absolutes and money matters. Big time. The Times story today on what they call the hunger-obesity paradox should stand as a sorry example of our broken food system, regardless of your personal eating preferences.
I’m not going to go on too long about how food costs have sent food equity into the tank and left us a have and have-not society on the most essential (there’s that word again) part of our being – eating. It’s despicable. I’m not talking truffles versus potatoes. I’m talking fresh spuds versus French fries and real greens in a salad versus a few sad shreds of iceberg on that Big Mac.
All that said – check out a couple of distinct notions about food:
The conundrum of Kosher in Connecticut in The New York Times, and the upcoming growing season after last year’s devastation on WSHU.
 Guess I’m not the only one wringing my lettuce leaves over what I ought to be eating. And the right way to produce whatever it is that I finally DO decide that I ought to be eating. (See my last post)
The L.A. Times laments the shootout over local food versus, well, everything else. Sound familiar?
The New York Times a couple of weeks ago looked a the notions that plants have senses like – gulp — animals, know how to fight off interlopers and in general are truly … alive.
Aw geez – now what do we do?
Here’s the thing everyone seems to be forgetting. Eating ain’t optional. You don’t eat, you die. Now you can be eating organic vegetables only, or you can be eating McDonald’s. Same deal – you don’t eat, you die.
Here’s another thing everyone seems to be forgetting. Fun. Whatever happened to enjoying what you’re eating? Oh that’s right, we’re supposed to eat what’s good for us and things that were produced properly are morally acceptable, etc, etc, etc. What? No one told you it can all be one and the same.
I went to a small dinner party recently. The first course was potato, leek and asparagus soup. There were two torta rusticas made with chard – one with cheese and the other with non-dairy substitutes like soy cheese for the lactose intolerant folks among us (no vegans), broiled swordfish, beets with a touch of orange, a simple green salad served with whole wheat baguettes. And I contributed a pear tarte Tatin for dessert and a quick whipped cream was produced.
But the evening was friendship and catching up and debating (though not solving) all the troubles of the world. Did anyone care that the potatoes, leeks, greens, chard and just about everything else were probably from California via the grocery store and the asparagus pretty much had to be from some other country? Or that swordfish is usually on the top of the worry-about-mercury list? No. Was the meal unhealthy? No.
Culinary pleasures come in many packages, and this one came with people and wine and opinions. And a touch of pear tarte Tatin – featuring precisely zero local ingredients — never hurts. Crust is adapted from Gourmet and the filling from The New York Times many, many years ago.
Pear Tarte Tatin
Crust
1¼ cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoons sugar
¼ teaspoon salt
1 stick cold unsalted butter, cut into ½-inch cubes
3 tablespoons ice water plus more as needed
Whisk together flour, sugar, and salt in a bowl (or pulse in a food processor). Blend in butter with your fingertips or a pastry blender (or pulse) just until most of mixture resembles coarse meal with some roughly pea-size butter lumps. Drizzle ice water over mixture and gently stir with a fork (or pulse) until incorporated.
Squeeze a small handful of dough: If it doesn’t hold together, add more ice water 1 tablespoon at a time, stirring (or pulsing) until just incorporated, then test again. Do not overwork dough, or pastry will be tough.
Turn out dough onto a lightly floured surface and divide into 4 portions. With heel of your hand, smear each portion once or twice in a forward motion to help distribute fat. Gather dough together, with a pastry scraper if you have one, and press into a ball. Form into a disk. Wrap in plastic wrap and chill until firm, at least 1 hour. Dough can be chilled up to 1 day (it will freeze pretty well for a couple of weeks). Let stand at room temperature 20 minutes before rolling out.
Filling
7 firm, red Anjou pears, peeled, halved and cored
Fresh lemon juice
¾ cup sugar
4 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut in small pieces
Crust (above)
Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Position rack in bottom third of oven. Squeeze lemon juice on pears. Set aside.
Place sugar in a 11-inch cast iron skillet or tarte Tatin pan over low heat. When some of the sugar begins to melt, begin stirring with a wooden spoon until all of the sugar is melted and begins to turn a pale golden color.
Remove pan from the heat. Arrange pear halves in the pan spoke fashion, cut side up, with the narrow end of the pears toward the center, as close together as possible. Fill in the center with the remaining pears.
Scatter butter over the pears. Place pan over medium heat. Cook until the sugar turns a deep caramel color and the juices released from the pears are nearly evaporated, about 20 minutes.
While pears cook, roll the dough into circle about 2 inches larger in diameter than pan. Lift and lay over the pears, tucking the edges into pan around edges of pears. Bake until the crust is golden brown, about 25 to 30 minutes. Remove from oven and set aside for 10 minutes.
Run a small, sharp knife around the edge of the tarte to loosen. Place a large plate or platter over the skillet. Holding the plate and skillet together using 2 kitchen towels, carefully but quickly invert the tarte onto the plate. You may need to do a bit of re-assembling. Cut into wedges and serve with whipped cream or crème fraiche if desired. Eight servings.
 The store shelves at Hindinger Farm are a bit bare at this late date, just a few weeks before it closes for the season. The last of the farm-raised produce consists of acorn and butternut squashes, a lone cabbage or two and a dozen or so different apple varieties – all of them pock-marked by the hail that might have otherwise meant doom for something of a lesser constitution than this fourth generation family farm that sits high atop Hamden’s hills with a southern view that takes your breath away – all the way to Long Island.
But it didn’t mean doom.
And that’s the point here.
“I was up in the middle of the night when it was hailing,” Liz Hindinger says. “I could hear it. I’m sitting there looking out the window freaking out. Everything was just like – you put it through the shredder the next day.”
And then Liz and her brother George, who own and run this farm founded in 1893, went on and finished their season. They farm 100 of its 138 acres, and that includes about 50 acres of orchard. And they’ll be out there pruning their 18 different apples and their pears and peaches and nectarines and plums again this winter.
Not a stone’s throw away, it would be a different outcome for Nature’s Mirror Farm in North Haven – a half-acre spread is all that’s really left of hundreds of acres that once belonged to the Melillo family in the area that is now home to the Route 40 connector.
After a few years farming and selling at area farmer’s markets and to restaurants, the farm is changing course – looking at raising quarter horses and in general looking for more land elsewhere.
These are stark reminders of three things – farming is really tough, financially difficult work; farming is really tough, financially difficult work; farming is really tough, financially difficult work.
Get the picture?
Liz and George have seen the changes. “In Hamden there were a lot of farms,” Liz says. “Mix Avenue, that main avenue where all the apartments are was all farms and there was a farm down that way,” she says pointing south, “Mr. Benham’s farm. And then there was a farm adjacent to ours.”
All gone – as are most of the folks who used to freeze and can fresh food for the winter.
“I wish they’d get back into it, because it would be great for us,” says George.
“We used to sell so much bulk,” adds Liz. “We used to sell peppers by the bushel left and right. We used to sell eggplant by the bushel left and right.”
“Corn like crazy, broccoli by the box,” George finishes. “The problem is really you can get whatever you want 12 months a year. It’s not like you can’t get broccoli in the winter anymore or red peppers or corn or eggplant. You can get anything all year, so I think that’s where it started to change a little bit.”
But the Hindingers are still here.
“That’s the way we make our living,” George says. “We don’t want it to be a trend,” he says of the Buy CT-Grown campaign and local and fresh and all that. “We want it to be a habit,” he says.
An interesting way to view things. Think about it the next time you eye that asparagus in January, and actually consider buying it.
 CitySeed workers pack bags of fresh local produce for low income seniors. Locally grown food may be all the rage these days – but that’s if you can afford it. You’ll pay premium prices for those local organic tomatoes, specialty greens and a host of other things which means there’s a whole socio-economic group that is being priced out of the local food movement. Some have gone so far as to label the local food phenom elitist.
But at least a couple of organizations in Connecticut have taken on the mission of getting fresh local food to folks who couldn’t otherwise afford it or even get to it. Hear my whole story here on WSHU and see photos.
It’s got a lot of imitators these days. I am swamped with announcements of a farm dinner here and harvest food fest there. But the Celebration of Connecticut Farms is the granddaddy of them all, in this state anyway. It’s the one that showed you could get chefs and farmers into the big tent (two of them actually) that is Connecticut food and the result would be delicious.
So they’re doing it again. The 9th annual Celebration of Connecticut Farms is September 13, 12 noon – 4 p.m., at Graywall Farm in Lebanon.
 
It is, at its core, a fundraiser for the Connecticut Farmland Trust. But as Executive Director Henry Talmage knows, the interest in local food has catapulted it into something much more.
“Even bigger than that I think, it’s the idea of putting the producers and chefs together with people who care about local food all in one setting to let them experience that food and engage in discussions about how local food can be the salvation for local agriculture,” he said. “Even people who know nothing about agriculture, but are interested in eating locally, are important. They’re the new people in this mix who have energized the whole movement.”
Even at this late date, the details of the Celebration are changing, but you can check out the latest information on which chefs, restaurants, farmers, vineyards and others are participating here.
John Turenne, a chef who has made a career out of connecting institutions to local food through his company Sustainable Food Systems, is running the Celebration for a third year, though he’s been involved for 7 of its 9 years, originally as one of the chefs.
The format will be more or less the same as the past couple of years. “We require that the main items at least in whatever dish they’re preparing come from Connecticut-produced food,” Turenne said. “Whether it’s farmed or fished, it’s got to come form Connecticut.”
The trick, however, is to avoid overlapping offerings and hurt feelings. “That’s where tact comes in,” he said. He tells participants: “’We can’t have redundancies for the customers’ sake and for your sake.’”
This year’s menu is still top secret – but a couple of sneak peaks: Dressing Room in Westport, started by chef Michel Nischan and Paul Newman, will do Paul Newman burgers using beef from Stuart Family Farm in Bridgewater and brioche rolls by Judie’s Bakery of New Haven.
Nancy Roper of Boxcar Cantina in Greenwich will have three mini tamales: carne adovada, organic chicken and roast corn, and black bean with green chile – all with local cheeses and meat from Ox Hollow Farm in Roxbury.
“One of things we’re trying to consciously focus on now is being sure that the farmers are really taken care of,” Turenne said. “It’s not just about the restaurants and chefs but where this stuff is coming from.”
And that is the takeaway of an event like the Celebration. Make no mistake, it’s a big-ticket meal for those who can afford it, but it’s designed to emphasize the diversity of local farming and the jobs and everyday lives it impacts.
“That’s the good news in all this,” Talmage said. “You realize how incredible it is that other than just some olive oil and lemons, it’s all here.”
 All photos are 2008 Celebration of Connecticut Farms and are by John Columbus for the Connecticut Farmland Trust.
 Yellow oyster mushrooms at Mountain Top Mushroom. You think these colors are wild? Wait until you see the blue and the pink! Grapefruits, figs, even emu eggs – Connecticut has an unusual array of foods grown, raised or otherwise produced here that you would never expect.
We’re not talking about a ton of things – but enough that they’re more than just a passing amusement. The Bridge in Middletown has been making tofu for 30 years from organic soybeans grown exclusively for them in New York State. Now that’s staying power for anything.
Meat and poultry products – while there are plenty of unusual offerings – run into the longstanding issue of no USDA slaughterhouse in the state. In some cases, you are technically buying the live animal, and the farmer is processing it for you as a courtesy. Some animals are processed out of state. There’s nothing underhanded; it’s just something to be aware of.
Read about all of it, along with listings of where to get what in The New York Times Metropolitan section on Aug. 30.
And have a gander at a few extra photos.
 At Urban Oaks, Mike Kandefer's figs were still green in July. But they're ripe now and in demand -- big time. If you want any, do not dawdle.  Yup, grapefruit in Connecticut -- in the greenhouses at Urban Oaks in July. They'll be ripe in late fal and you can see photos of that in The New York Times.
 It’s something of a cottage industry at the moment – food writers on the subject of Julia Child. So as long as everyone else is piling on – it would seem not inappropriate to join in.
I met Julia Child a couple of times. Met. Rarefied setting, but seriously, just met. That means I got the chance to throw some questions at her in a reporters’ gaggle covering the Food & Wine Classic in Aspen, Colo. Totally appropriate for me to be there – I was a food editor in Colorado for a number of years.
Even among the big names – no make that huge names – there, she was the draw, the star. Her sessions had people hanging in the doorways. And more than anything, she had people laughing. It was 1995 and 1996. She was still physically imposing, but stooped and didn’t walk well. But the mind and tongue were sharp and she was hysterical — deadpanning on a second-thought pour of ALL the wine into whatever it was she was doing. I actually forget the dish.
But seeing Julie & Julia (yes delightful, yes Streep is, well – Streep, and stand warned you will be STARVING when you leave) got me remembering Child in 1995 in particular, and how it all relates to who we are food-wise today.
For the foodies gathered in Aspen – and that meant the non-press paying big, big bucks for some serious food – Julia Child’s demonstration session was called “Will the Real Salade Niçoise Please Stand Up!” The exclamation point was hers.
It was a two-full-page/four-column recipe for Salade Niçoise, which she said was the Escoffier version, and included a scolding in print and in person about things like cheap oil, frozen string beans and unripe tomatoes. And it included this: “I’ve had so-called embellishments, such as fresh tuna rather than canned, or shrimp or crab. But I don’t like embellishments! I want that canned tuna.” (Yes, I still have the program and the full recipe, and the exclamation points, again, were hers.)
Julia Child came of culinary age in a time and place in Paris where the everyday food was local and fresh, bought more or less as needed, and occupied a cultural place in society the way it really never has in the U.S. It was well before the commodity farming, industrial processing and rampant use of antibiotics, hormones, etc. we’ve seen in the U.S. – the backlash against which has spawned the local food movement of the last half-dozen or so years.
And so these unanswerable questions:
Was it ever fair to impose French food sensibilities (some would say snobbery) on an American public that just didn’t and to a large extent still doesn’t have access to these products at a reasonable cost or at all? For instance, the only way many people have to purchase duck (as in the pate de canard en croute that is the movie’s climax) is frozen, which of course will never get you the same quality in the dish Child created.
Is the classic way still the right way or the only way? The largely French techniques are still the core of cooking training – no question. And it’s probably like painting – learn the classic way, by the rules before you start screwing around with things. But, is there something inherently wrong with fresh tuna in a Salade Niçoise? Is food an exact science only, or is it meant to evolve and jettison older conventions to be replaced with newer sensibilities?
What would Julia Child think of the local food movement in swing now? Does it deny us certain foods she valued – that is to say classic French food made in the U.S. heartland from ingredients fetched, imported and flown from faraway, because that’s where they come from? Do food miles make Julia Child obsolete?
And just because something is classic in the French tradition, does it mean we should still eat it now? Tripe comes to mind, but hey, maybe that’s me. And yes, butter – good butter, OK, any butter – is delicious, but in truth is not meant for everything.
When Julia Child demonstrated her Salade Niçoise back in 1995, she advocated hard-boiled eggs made in a pressure cooker, but failing that she had a complex system of piercing eggs, a 17-minute steeping, chilling, re-boiling, chilling.
I totally think Julia Child did amazing things for the world of food. She made us see possibilities, test limits, be adventurous. She did as much if not more for television – opening a genre, putting public TV on the map, refining how to even approach food in a visual setting.
But her hard-boiled egg technique is NOT the best. It’s a pain in the butt. And if I want fresh tuna in my Salade Niçoise, I’m gonna use it. And here, in the half-decade since we lost Julia Child, I’m thinking she might not even mind … too much.
Cook’s Illustrated No-Gray-Ring Hard-Boiled Eggs
Place eggs in a pot, no more than one layer’s worth. Cover with at least an inch of water. Bring to a boil. As soon as the water boils, turn off heat, cover, and let steep precisely 10 minutes. Chill to stop cooking in an ice water bath.
On the off-chance there’s a high-altitude cook out there – my experience at 6,300 feet was that you need 12 minutes of steeping.
As for the whole Salade Niçoise recipe. Maybe.
The official count is 123, but I wouldn’t hold the Agriculture Department to that. They might have missed a farmers’ market or two. No matter how you count them, there are a lot.
Jeez, there are only 169 cities and towns in the state.
All of which begs the question — are we at critical mass yet? I mean how many farmers’ markets can the state handle?
“Well Rick thinks that every year,” said Ag Department marketing representative Linda Piotrowicz of her fellow rep Rick Macsuga. “It’s anybody guess. Rick has said many time he thought we were maxed out many years ago and we still get more every year.”
It might be the family thing Piotrowicz surmised – markets with activities, themes, entertainment, ways to make a day of it. Sunday markets also seem to have some kind of magic to them – scooping up vendors who are otherwise tapped out on the more popular market days like Saturdays and Fridays.
Coventry, which opened last year, started the trend attracting record crowds. It has activities at each market – this week is Frugal Frolic – doing more with less. There are craft vendors and it’s all on the grounds of the Hale Homestead.
“You get people to make a day of it, or part of a day,” Piotrowicz said.
New and notable this year:
 Hill-Stead Farmers' Market July 12. Hill-Stead: Sundays on the grounds of the Hill-Stead Museum in Farmington. With guest vendors and activities, uber-vendors like Wave Hill and Bantam breads, and George Hall farms. They also snagged first-time vendor Tulmeadow Farm – which of course is known for its ice cream, and it’s now the only place to get Urban Oaks products other than at their New Britain farm. Market manager Peggy Hall said about 1,100 people showed up for the first market July 12. “All the stars were aligned,” she said.
Chester: Sundays, on that cute strip of downtown. Features music and events and many of the top market vendors in the state. In an effort to get top quality meats and seafood, market manager Nancy Freeborn picks up scallops from Stonington Seafood harvester, making the market one of the few places you can get Bomster scallops other than at their dockside facility in Stonington. And they’re also picking up meats from Soeltl Farm in Salem. “We just liked the idea of Sunday being a quieter day,” Freeborn said.
Bozrah: Friday evenings at Maples Farm Park. Mostly vendors from the immediate area.
Wethersfield: Thursday evenings in Historic Wethersfield.
It’s looking like a few of these have the momentum to join the ranks of the big boys.
 New Haven Farmers' Market, Wooster Square. Those would be markets like New Haven run by the non-profit CitySeed. These are some of the largest markets in the state, which through go to great lengths to help lower income people shop there.
Westport got so popular it’s had to move this year from the parking lot of the Westport Country Playhouse to the parking lot adjacent to the Woman’s Club. There are usually cooking demonstrations and other features.
 Litchfield Farm Fresh Market, July 4. The Litchfield Hills Farm Fresh Market has moved from Friday to Saturday this year and is packed with chef demos, kids activities, and all manner of entertainment.
If none of these are convenient, interesting, or fill-in-the-blank, there’s now a county-by-county farmer’s market guide the Connecticut Department of Agriculture website under publications. Or use the Buy CT Grown link here or on this website for a fully interactive way to figure out how and where and when to buy fresh anything in Connecticut.
 Dinners at the Farm is back for a third season with the first of its multi-course gourmet local farm dinners running July 16-18.
The concept and format remain the same as last year: Four locations over the course of the summer, three nights each, and $3,000 in proceeds from each set going to a different cause.
In return for $150, each diner gets to eat under the stars at a quintessential Connecticut farm. Yes there’s a tent, weather has been known to be less than cooperative. Bug spray isn’t a bad idea. I’d skip the sandals if I were you.
It’s a starve-all-day dinner.
 Jonathan Rapp plating appetizer scallops last summer. In the past, creator Jonathan Rapp of River Tavern in Chester, with the help of Drew McLachlan of Feast Gourmet Market in Deep River have been known to deliver more than 10 courses plus appetizers and wine.
 Scallops with salsa and purslane mole served last July for a dinner that benefited Shoreline Soup Kitchens and Pantries. Now it’s a more manageable usually seven courses. (Seriously, who’s complaining?)
And of course there’s that fire truck – the 1955 classic that has been converted into an outdoor kitchen. Just about everything is cooked there. And save a few spices, an avocado or two and a touch of citrus – OK flour, sugar, stuff like that – everything major that goes into the meal is local – from farms, fishing operations and other food-makers around the state.
Click here to read about one of last year’s dinners (when it did NOT rain) – and it will give you a sense of how the meal comes together and the type of food you can expect.
This is the schedule, but warning, warning, warning – I am told some of these are already selling out. Go to the Dinners at the Farm website to purchase tickets and learn more.
July 16, 17, 18 Stanton-Davis Farm, Pawcatuck
Benefiting Stanton-Davis Homestead
Aug. 12, 13, 14 White Gate Farm, East Lyme
Benefiting Connecticut Farm Land Trust
Aug. 27, 28, 29 Barberry Hill Farm, Madison
Benefiting CitySeed Farmer’s Market
Sept. 10, 11, 12 Old Maids Farm, South Glastonbury
Benefiting Working Lands Alliance
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With two food stories in the last week that couldn’t be more different, I am reminded of the reality of what food is: absolutely essential to survival, but at the same time so intensely personal as to defy anything that remotely smacks of trend.