My friend Consiglio

Sometimes it's tough being a vegan. Or, let me qualify that. . . being a gluten-free vegan. Going out to eat with friends inevitably proves to be a challenge unless you plan ahead. Most vegans can do well by choosing ethnic, as most Thai, Japanese, Chinese, and even Italian restaurants can accommodate us with only minor tweaking to their menus. But when you eliminate gluten, it pretty much rules out everything.

Gluten is the protein found in wheat, barley and rye. So that means pasta is out of the question. I've lived in New Haven for two years and have yet to sample one of its famous pizzas. (sad, I know) No more lo mein noodles. And even soba - which are technically buckwheat noodles and ok for the gluten-intolerant - usually are made with some wheat, and therefore off limits. Same goes for soy sauce which is made with fermented wheat and soy (read the label).

So I was at a quandry when invited to go to Consiglio's, one of New Haven's finest Italian institutions. What to do. What to do. I called ahead and asked if they served risotto, thinking they might possibly be able to make a veggie risotto sans dairy. They assured me they could. I was pleasantly surprised, asked again just to be doubly sure, and had my request confirmed. When we were seated and ready to order, I calmly (albeit abit reservedly) made my request. He pleasantly responded that the chef would be happy to do that for me. What shock!

A minute later, amidst good cheer and conversation, my world came crashing down: no risotto for Mary. The waiter informed me that they could not make the risotto to order because it would take too long and, frankly, would be pretty listless without all those gobs of cheese. I did my best to hold my head up after receiving this dreadful news. And then we spent the next 15 minutes or so scavaging the menu for veggies which could be concocted into an impromptu dinner suitable for a gluten-free vegan. I am pleased to report that the end result was far superior to your standard risotto primavera.

This dish is now my new standby for Italian restaurants. Grilled eggplant with marinara, broccoli rabe in olive oil and garlic, white beans and calamata olives. Mmmmm... DEEEElish! Take a look:

It is now confirmed> a gluten-free vegan CAN eat dinner at an Italian restaurant in New Haven. YAY!

David Foster Wallace (1962-2008)

This just makes me sad.

David Foster Wallace at The Strand bookstore in New York in January 2006.

Cold pasteurized = Irradiation

There's something to be said about euphemisms. . . They're part of our culture. They're polite ways of expressing often difficult subjects. Oh, and also, sometimes they're blatantly deceptive.

Take for example this new label created by the FDA: cold pasteurized. Sounds pretty innocuous, doesn't it? I think that's the point. Normally, when we think of pasteurization, we think "milk" and "Louis Pasteur" and that process he invented to kill bacteria and make drinking milk "safe." (all of which I think is mass propaganda masquerading as food safety anyway, but that's beside the point) While I choose not to drink milk for other reasons, those who do consume it are lead to believe that this process makes it safe to drink.

Now, what would you think if you were told your milk was irradiated? Quite different, huh. That word conjures up all sorts of negative connotations, like x-rays and mutation and cancer. And rightly so. Even the federal government doesn't know quite what irradiation does to food, and yet the FDA has approved its use on dried herbs, spice mixes and processed foods.

According to the World Health Organization (1991), "the genuine effect of processing food by ionizing radiation relates to damages to the DNA, the basic genetic information for life. . . Spoilage-causing micro-organisms cannot continue their activities. . . Plants cannot continue the natural ripening or aging process."

Sounds to me like an attempt to control the Laws of Nature.

Now I suppose you could just avoid all products labeled cold pasteurized, right? Well, that's easier said than done. You see, the government does not require companies to label their products as such. And, even when companies do so voluntarily, they use this pretty little leafy icon:

If I saw that, it would make me want to buy a jar of 10-month old dried basil that had been zapped by ionizing radiation, not avoid it. The problem gets messier. How do you label spinach? You see, the FDA has recently approved the use of cold pasteurization (irradiation, remember) on fresh spinach and lettuce. Even if it's organic. Sounds crazy, doesn't it? Now how would you label a leafy green?!! You can't. And there's no way of knowing whether or not your produce has been effected by this new policy.

If you're like me, you'll avoid all those 99 cent bottled herbs at CVS, as well as anything frozen, packaged or canned, and start growing your own greens. Oh, and also, write to your congressperson to let them know, too.

California coming home

I just returned from a trip to sunny California - San Francisco to be exact. Even though it's been about 15 years since my last visit, something about it still feels like home. . . maybe it's the sunshine, the crisp ocean breezes, the early morning mist, the fog that rises up over the Bay, the rocky, windy coastal highway, and the way strangers engage in conversation at the moment you're seeking conversation instead of being intrusive. Somehow, you feel less alone.

I've heard it said many times that "it's the light." The way the West Coast sun shines on things gives a different impression -- almost a glow -- in the way a person who is in love has a face that just beams brightly. San Francisco is a city in love, eager to share its joy with anyone who wants to belong.

The first four days of my visit were spent lodging along Fisherman's Wharf at the Fort Mason hostel. I know, I know... a hostel... "Aren't those just for young people?" "Don't you have to be a member?" "Aren't the rooms horrendous?" Well, no, not exactly. Technically, they're budget accommodations for those who travel. You get a bed, linens, breakfast every morning and free use of the kitchen to make your own meals if you choose. Sure, you share your room with 3-4 other people and the bathroom and showers are down the hall, but how can you beat $26 a night in San Francisco??! It's kinda like returning to the dorm days of college, only minus the keg parties and self-absorbed cliques. Even families with young kids make a go of it, and everyone respects each other's space and privacy, so it's a pretty nice arrangement. In fact, I'd even go so far as to say that the social aspects made traveling solo feel less lonely. Check out the view of the Wharf from outside the back entrance:

Later in the week I ventured to the hostel at Union Square, which was quite a different experience. Instead of the ocean sounds of seagulls and foghorns to lull me awake each morning, there were busses and cars and "street people" and the light of a parking garage across the street to kept me awake all night. Ah, that's excitement for you. Nonetheless, considering the Hilton shared the same corner as my lowly hotel, I felt I got another bargain. All their guests walked out onto the same street every day as I did.

Once I get all of my photos uploaded and cropped, I'll have more to Blog about. . . the restaurants, Slow Food Nation conference, Slow Food Rocks concert, Green Gulch and SF Zen Center, Muir Woods, Sausalito, Muir Beach, the Japanese Tea Garden, Golden Gate Park. . . (sigh. . . ).

Canoe, Can you?

It really feels like summer lately, with the hot sunny days followed by afternoon thunderstorms. And there's nothing I like more than to get out to the water to cool off on those balmy afternoons. Whether it's the ocean or a lake, or even a stream that I can wade in, something about flowing water is so peaceful that troubles seem to just drift away...

One of my favorite water past-times is canoeing. Many, many years ago I was escorted on my first canoe trip by my ex-husband while we were still dating. (I think canoes really are the best way to bond.) Our vessel was a beatup and borrowed metal hulk of a thing, but it was clean inside and it floated. For a 6-pack of beer, his friend let us take it out on the lake for a day and even helped hitch it to the roof of George's Ford Fairmont with some rope and a few towels to protect that fine mottled grey paintjob. I knew nothing of paddling, so this first excursion was an opportunity to enjoy the scenery, do some birdwatching (hello, heron!) and get a sunburn. Ah, the joys of youth.

Here it is nearly 20 years later, and I found myself bookended in the hull of another canoe, also paddleless and still enjoying the scenery. We spotted several egrets, ospreys, willets and herring gulls, one of which nearly dropped its fishy lunch into our lap. The current was strong after two days of steady rain as we meandered unassisted under two overpasses and into a swirl of whirlpools and waves. I think the fact that it was high tide as we started down the Branford River towards the beach and returned up river amidst a receding tide had something to do with the adventure that followed.

We couldn't make it back. Yeah, I know. Pretty lame. We did put in a valiant effort, but the little waterfalls we effortlessly rode down suddenly became Indiana Jones quests to ride back up. So we had to get out three times and walk the canoe to safer waters. The first bridge had a nice little path alongside the river, as if others had followed a similar course. The next one was a little more rocky as we upset a roosting pigeon and slipped on the slimy rocks getting out. The third time proved fatal to my left flip-flop which got sucked into ankle-deep quicksand-like mud and refused to release itself from my foot. A struggle ensued. Alas, my flip-flop lost. But we're survivors. And it was still pretty fun.

What's growin' on?

Eary this spring I took a training class at Community TV in Hamden to learn how to use a digital camera and editing equipment in order to produce a show for public access tv. I had high hopes of doing a cooking show since everyone keeps telling me I should do one (peer pressure, ya know). Then I started digging in the garden, and became a little distracted...

That cooking show idea is on hiatus while I tend to my Chapelseed garden. I seeded my tiny plot back in April with radish, broccoli rabe, snow peas, snap peas, nasturtiums, tomatoes, stringbeans and basil. If you scroll down a bit, you can see how things looked way back then, a mere 3 months ago. The radish have now been harvested and eaten. The broccoli rabe was enjoyed for a couple meals until it bolted. I've picked an armload of snap peas and the snow peas will be sauteed in a stirfry tonight. I was even lucky enough to have adopted a patch of asparagus from a previous tenant.

Now, the nasturtiums have taken over, spilling past the borders and into my neighbor's plot, though we agree it's nice having their bright and cheerful presence while we water. And the bees love them. The flowers also make a pretty, peppery addition to salads.