Around The Table Project

Around the Table is about introducing people to the collective experience of food through story-telling.

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Yes, we have scholarly sources, but these little friends are awesome! They completely surpass all of the tourist traps, and open up another world of eating; we're dining with the locals on those culinary backstreets, baby!  Check out http://istanbuleats.com/ for more info. 

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Research, Research, Research.

It's official, Around The Table Project is heading to Morocco, Turkey, and Greece in April! 

We're leaving some of this trip to chance, as we feel like the best encounters are not manufactured, but organic. However, in order to make this trip a complete success, we've  buried ourselves knee deep in research, networking, and planning/organizing---we want to give " chance" a little nudge. Also, we think it's the responsible thing to be accountable to our supporters. 

Monday, January 13th: 

Simone and I  were able to create a delectable menu for our fundraiser dinner, and post it on the EatFeastly.com site: http://eatfeastly.com/meals/m/moroccan-cooking-demo-and-meal-fundraiser-for-arou/ee4a80df-e184-4e44-b622-c181a3d57ff1/

The dinner is a three part series, which includes a cooking lesson, a cooking demo, and a feast worthy of Kings! It's the perfect Valentine's day gift for a sweetie that loves to cook, so hook yo' boos up! 

There are even talks of Famous Eco Chef, Bryant Terry showing up to attend the dinner. Who knows? Maybe he'll teach you guys how to make his famous " Green Harissa..." 

We also got our Trevolta page up and running. Woohoo, for our first successful trip planning day! 

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Mr. Yoshi Kubo was a hard working and gregarious man! He loved his family and loved farming. To most, he was an average joe, so much so, that not even his own son, Dan Kubo suspected that he had a questionable past.

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“I sat at a table where were rich food and wine in abundance, and obsequious attendance, but sincerity and truth were not; and I went away hungry from the inhospitable board."-Henry David Thoreau

We’re three in and we’re supposed to be admitting our first crush. Somehow, the conversation has turned from admitting our first crush into admitting our most embarrassing crush. One of my neighbors has already jumped head first into the challenge by telling unfortunate tales of liking monotone sounding hosts on NPR; another has admitted that they may or may not have cried when they found out their favorite celebrity married. Others still have weaved stories of boys from different nationalities owning warehouses filled sky-high with Fruit Roll-ups. I mean, honestly, in this person’s defense, who can resist a boy who has Fruit Roll-ups to share, much less a warehouse chocked full of them? 

It’s my turn.

"Amanda...who was your first crush?" One of my neighbors prods. I hesitate to answer. We’ve been meeting together for several months now, but I’m not sure if I can admit my secret around that sturdy wooden table. We call ourselves Progressives and since we’ve started there has not been one neighborly dinner party, which has disappointed; we cook, we laugh, we dance, we reminisce, and talk shop---I really like these folks, and in a lot of ways, they have been an answer to prayer for intentional friendships and greater community. Still, if I admit this secret that not even my third grade diary was privy to, I lose all street cred. 

“Well,” I start, as a take a sip of house made horchata, “ I had my first crush when I was six, it was my friend Holly’s older brother, Patrick...” There. I said it and I feel safe knowing that I told the truth with my secret still intact. However I feel slightly disconnected, my neighbors’ attempts at getting to know me have fallen flat, and I am met with lackluster stares from around the dinner table. “Gah-dangit!” I think to myself, “...these fools are not buying it.”  And before I am allowed to carry through with my pretense, I am graced with a tiny Edna Lewis on my shoulder, “The table is made for embarrassing secrets,” Edna whispers in her deep southern accent. I realize how grateful I am to be sitting there filling my time with laughter and love; the people that I share this connection with are no longer people I awkwardly pass in the hallway of our apartment complex or find to be annoying as they play music late into the evening---they’re the kind of folks I want on my side--the kind we can borrow sticks of butter from, take road trips with or text for legal advice. 

“Okay, fine!” I blurt out, wishing I had taken a sip of wine instead of horchata, “Donatello from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles!” I pan the room, looking to make eye contact with anyone who still recognizes me as human. When that fails, I reach for my fork, in hopes of passing time by playing with the remainder of my carnita.

“Donatello!” My neighbor gasps. “…But he was the nerdy one with the bow staff! ” She exclaims in disbelief.  

“Yeah...Michelangelo was so much cooler!” Another one chimes in.

“Yeah, I know... but I liked him because he was a pacifist.” I say in my defense---as if liking a fictional non-human being can be defended---let’s be honest, it’s one and a half steps away from those guys who “like” those real dolls.

Laughter fills the room.

“Technically,” I continue, “my best friend Holly’s older brother, Patrick was my first crush,” but it’s too late, someone has already moved on to what Disney character is the hottest.

...I swear, none of us have ever been to or actively participated in Ren Faire.

It’s your turn:

Step 1: Grab a neighbor/s and invite them over for food, drink, etc.

Step. 2: Tell us about it! 

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Excuse me, sir... umm, your gratitude is showing.

The surplus of food and creative people doing unique things with it makes it easier for us to approach eating from a privileged perspective. Yet, we still need studies like the one Stanford recently released to debunk the nutritious value myth that organic food held over non-organic food. What’s alarming to me is that a staggering 51 percent of those polled believed that eating organic food would turn them into Chuck Norris Jr., able to hear sign language and swim through land. The message is clear, our disconnect with food is a telltale sign of how truly detached we've become.  My dear friend and business associate Lajuanda was telling me about an urban farm that popped up in her backyard almost overnight. “One day, a bunch of hipsters were outside sawing stuff," she said. “The next day, out comes a chicken coop and a fire pit.” Mind you, we live in a neighborhood where poverty is beyond blatant; trash cans clang at 6 a.m. as people dig through, hoping to find enough cans to trade in for a meal; wafts of body odor sting your nose as you walk past those less fortunate on your way to morning coffee. Money and electronics are hidden in undergarments, socks, and shoes in order to avoid theft at gunpoint. It’s real here, and even still, there’s a group of well-intentioned people urban homestead-ing like it’s 1799. It’s almost as if the Food Movement has become the secret word of the day, as we wait for Pee Wee Herman to jump from behind that big, blue, creepy chair and smack us in the ear with that high-pitched, constipated squeal: “Food Movement, Slow Foods, Organic and Sustainable!” Aaah! We said it! Mecca, lecca high, mecca hiney ho, sucka! I can’t help but wonder if the Food Movement has become the next new fad – cool today, but what about tomorrow?  For Mr. Kubo, farmer turned educator, that cool factor came a long, long time ago. “The number one thing [about farming] is I know where food comes from … I have since I was a child,” he says. For him, a relationship with and understanding of food is essential to one’s health. He does not believe that a local, organic apple is more nutritious than an apple shipped across the country. However, he knows about the posture that comes from developing a sense of gratitude, which is important to one’s health and the health of the Food Movement. It’s more than simply saying “thank you,” and more about developing a consciousness that acknowledges the sacrifice, labor, life, and hard work that gives us something as simple as a peach. He glances at me like a father would a child, “We don’t live independent of everything else … we’re totally interdependent.” He says this, hoping I get it. It’s evident that he’s passionate about what he’s saying, not just because it’s cool to talk about in the present cultural climate, but because he’s lived it.

As he continues to talk, I realize that understanding the past is tantamount to prospering presently as a community. Because, we are the generation who will take over food and farming policies. We will negatively or positively impact communities. He knows what it’s like to be up at ungodly hours working hard or in the blazing sun toiling in the fields. He knows the sting of fertilizers and chemicals. “That was probably the worst part of farming for me … to have to go out and spray. They didn’t feel good for me, you know, on my skin, breathing it, all those things,” he states emphatically. 

I think about his life, and realize that without the attitude Mr. Kubo implores us to take, we are no better than the people subjecting us to GMO’d corn and processed fast food. We are no better because when we exchange gratitude for what’s “trendy,” we employ the same ideologies and gross consumerist mentalities that large corporations apply to their farming practices – our laborers become dispensable and our animals exist for nothing more than our whimsy. Who wants that? Honestly, I don’t think anyone does, but it takes us being conscience with grateful minds and hearts. It takes us having the understanding that interdependence means that when we’re buying organic meats, fruits, and veggies, farmers and farm laborers are depending on it for their health, too. They don’t want to be subjected to mistreatment  and health risks any more than you or I do.

Interdependence expressed by gratitude means that we practice sustainable methods of buying or growing for posterity’s health, as it’s less harmful to the environment and prolongs our ability to feed this country in a responsible way. It means when we buy locally, we help to keep small family farmers – like the Kubos – in business. We acknowledge them, and acknowledge that without them and all they do, there aren’t any wedding feasts, dinner parties, Sunday family meals – and don’t even think about $11 pulled pork from a food truck. None. For. You. Whiskey bacon lemon zest cupcakes with truffle oil drizzle? None of that, either. 

What about…?  Don’t even ask.  Okay, I’m being harsh. What was your question? …Psych! Still. Not. Happening. 

I digress, but seriously, if we haven’t already, let’s start by being more responsible with our words. Let’s stop throwing around the words “organic, sustainable and local ” like that one time when planking on any god-forsaken surface was kewl. The relationship we are building with food as an organic and sustainable community is not a privilege for some, it’s a right for everyone, and the product of someone’s hard work. We don’t get to treat it like it’s a fad. Like Mr. Kubo suggests, let’s start with collaborative gratitude rooted in interdependence.

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We used one of the recipes that Mr. Kubo gave us to make Green Tea and Sweet Potato/Yuzu Mochi! They were divine! 

Omochi Manju

3 Cups Mochiko 

1 1/2 Cups Sugar 

2 Tablespoons Karo Syrup

2 Cups Water

Food Coloring (We omitted this part, and used powdered green tea, instead). 

Aun (we did both aun and Japanese sweet potato) 

Using mixer, mix sugar and mochiko first, then add syrup  and water; mix well. Using cloth ,steam mochi for about 15-20 minutes. Test by drawing a chopstick through mochi from one side to another to be sure that it is steamed evenly. Remove from cloth and beat in mixer with dough hook. 

Portion aun using a teaspoon or cookie scoop. 

*So, the sweet potato, I winged and I just large diced and boiled Japanese sweet potato until tender, and removed the skin. I whipped them with powdered sugar, lemon zest, and yuzu juice. I added powdered sugar until the consistency was smooth and at a medium peak. 

After the mochi is beaten, turn onto a cutting board, covered with katakuriko or cornstarch. * I used this time to knead in  1/4 cup of the green tea powder. Pinch out into pingpong ball size portions. Flatten each portion of mochi into a disk, place aun ball in the center, close the mochi around the aun, pinch to seal. 

One recipe should make approximately 28-30 manju. 

Cool, covered, before wrapping. 

Things needed: 

Steamers

Steamer Cloths

Measuring cups and spoons 

Electric Mixer ( Kitchen Aid) with dough hook 

Wooden Sticks

Chopsticks

Plastic dough spatula

Large Bowl 

Note: 1 box of mochio= 3 1/4 cups of mochiko; remove 1/4 cup of mochiko from each box. 

* I added my own little touch. 

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Japanese Farmers, Part 1.

  3 ¼ cups mochiko (box; Koda Farms)

2 cups water

1 box ( 0.6oz.) sugar free jello 

Wooden spoons

Electric Mixer with a dough hook                                          

Measuring cups

Steamer Cloths

Bowls, for water and mixing                      

2Quart Saucepans                                                                

Plastic dough spatula                                                                                             

Chopstick 

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I have eaten the plums that were in the icebox and which you were probably saving for breakfast Forgive me they were delicious so sweet and so cold

William Carlos Williams