Ain’t too proud to beg…

26 Jan

Not a week goes by now that I don’t hear of, or read about, another restaurant or business closing — with the accompanying wailing and gnashing of teeth.

If you really love a place, or think that someone makes the “best” whatevers — please support them today or tomorrow or this week.

January is typically the worst month for many in the retail and hospitality industries — and probably others.

Every dollar you spend is a vote. Are you voting for a local, independent, mom-and-pop, or are you voting for another big chain? Every choice helps one and hurts another.

Please, I beg you to think before you spend. Is there a better option, even if it means going a little out of your way or spending a little more time?

Do a good deed. Shop local.

The job you save may be mine, yours, or your neighbor’s. Thank you for your support.

Tags: ,

Eat Green(s)

17 Jan

Our CSA partner, Kim Gerdeman, chief farming officer of Texas Prairie Farms, and I decided to offer a class on greens as a bonus for our members.

She’d talk about what grows well here in North Texas, and I’d demo a few recipes and offer tasting samples.

I wanted to get away from the idea that they’re always a side dish and they always have to be cooked to death to be good. I collected recipes for a few weeks, looking for ideas to pair with the varieties that Kim would have available in January.

Keeping in mind that it’s winter (despite it being sunny and 75 degrees here in Fort Worth yesterday), I wanted to present seasonal recipes, like braises and other one-pot dishes, and easy enough for the most basic home cooks to replicate.

The most popular of the six dishes were the barley risotto and the collards, but all were given a thumbs up.

Lemon barley with shrimp, bacon, and spinach

Adapted from “One-Pot Meals,” a publication of Fine Cooking magazine.

Serves 4

6 slices bacon

1 pound large shrimp (21 to 25 per lb.), peeled and deveined

Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

1/2 cup chopped shallots or onion (I used shallots)

1 box quick-cooking barley

Juice of one lemon

2 1/2 cups chicken broth or stock (I used organic boxed chicken broth)

1/4 pound (4 cups loosely packed) baby spinach, washed and spun dry

1/3 cup freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese (or Pecorino Romano, or any other hard grating cheese)

Zest from one lemon

Cook the bacon in a saute pan over medium-high heat until browned and crisp. Remove from pan (leaving the fat in the pan), drain on paper towels, and crumble into small pieces.

Increase the heat to medium high. Sprinkle the shrimp with salt and pepper.

Working in two batches to avoid crowding, cook the shrimp in the bacon fat until lightly browned and opaque, 1 1/2 to 2 minutes per side. Transfer the shrimp to a plate. Add the shallot or onion to the skillet and cook until it starts to soften, about 1 minute. Add the barley and stir until coated with the bacon fat, about 30 sec­onds.

Add half the lemon juice and cook, stirring, for 15 seconds. Pour in the chicken broth and bring to a boil, scraping up any browned bits in the pan. Reduce the heat to medium low, cover, and simmer until the barley is tender, 12 minutes.

Uncover the pan, raise the heat to medium high, and cook, stirring occasionally, until most of the liquid has evaporated, 1 to 2 min­utes. Stir in the spinach and cook until wilted, 1 minute. Stir in the bacon, shrimp, cheese, and lemon zest and heat through, 1 to 2 minutes.

Season to taste with salt, pepper and remaining lemon juice, and serve immediately.

The surprise hit of the day were these wine-braised collard greens, a recipe from Houston chef Bryan Caswell of Houston, It appeared in Saveur magazine. Click here for the link.

I used a cloying sweet muscat from Texas’ own St. Genevieve winery, a bargain at $3-something a bottle, and Kim’s baby collards. Students who said they don’t normally like collards said they loved these.

My husband’s favorite dish involved pork chops, and was another winner from the “One-Pot Meals” magazine.

Pork chops with beer, cabbage, and apples

These pork chops are first gently browned, to give them deep, caramel­ized flavor, and then simmered in a flavorful liquid to finish.

Serves 4

4 center-cut pork chops, about 1 1/2-inches thick

Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

3 tablespoons vegetable oil

1 small red onion, thinly sliced

1 tablespoon Dijon mustard

1/2  head Savoy cabbage (about 1 pound), cored and thinly sliced (I used a couple of small heads of Napa cabbage)

2 tart apples, peeled, cored, and cut into 1/2-inch slices (I used two organic Gala apples because it is what I had in the pantry.)

1 cup beer or ale (I used apple cider)

2 sprigs fresh thyme (or 1/2 tsp. dried)

1/2 cup homemade or lower-salt chicken broth (I used the organic boxed stuff)

Season the chops heavily on both sides with salt and pepper.

Heat the oil in a large, heavy skillet over medium-high heat until hot. Add the chops and cook on one side until well browned; turn and brown other side. Transfer to a plate and set aside.

Put the onion in the pan and cook, stirring, until softened, about 5 minutes. Stir in the mustard and 1/2 teaspoon pepper. Add the cab­bage and apples, season lightly with more salt, and cook, stirring, for another minute. Add the beer or cider, thyme, and broth. Bring to a boil and cook for about 5 minutes to intensify the flavors.

Return the chops to the skillet, burying them in the cabbage mixture. Cover the pan and simmer until the pork is just cooked through, about 15 minutes. Season to taste. Arrange the chops on plates and top with the cabbage.

Greens as a side dish, greens as a main dish. But greens as an appetizer? You bet! And I bet you can’t eat just one.

A recipe so easy, you hardly need a recipe. But here it is, anyway. Crispy Parmesan Kale Chips. Strangely addictive. Use good cheese.

I love pasta e fagioli, especially at Mancuso’s restaurant in far West Fort Worth. So this baked version really appealed to me.

Baked Pasta e Fagioli

Adapted from “Classic Comfort Foods,” a Taste of Home magazine.

Serves 8.

12 ounces multigrain rotini pasta, cooked, reserving 1/2 cup of the pasta cooking water

4 teaspoons extra virgin olive oil

1 large sweet yellow onion, chopped

2 stalks celery, strings removed, chopped

1 package turkey smoked sausage (optional for vegetarian version)

3 cloves garlic, minced or put through a garlic press

1 1/2 teaspoons dried oregano

Salt and pepper to taste

2 cans Muir Glen organic fire-roasted chopped tomatoes

1 can white beans (navy or cannellini), drained and rinsed

1 1/2 cups chicken or vegetable broth

1 bunch Swiss chard (about 1 1/2 pounds), trimmed and leaves chopped

1/2 cup or more shredded mozzarella cheese

1/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese

Preheat oven to 400 degrees F.

In a large saute pan, heat oil and cook onion and celery until softened. Add sausage, garlic, oregano, salt and pepper and cook, stirring, for three minutes or so.

Stir in tomatoes and their juices, beans, broth and chard. Increase heat and bring to a boil.

Add pasta and reserved cooking water and stir to combine. Pour into a 13 by 9 inch baking dish and sprinkle with the cheeses. Bake until golden, about 15-20 minutes.

The least successful dish, I think, was the salad, which can be found here. While I loved the idea of it, mustard greens are just plain bitter to me. And the dressing needed work, lots of work.

After I tried adjusting all the dressing ingredients, I still couldn’t get something palatable. So I handed the recipe and bowl of dressing to Stephanie, my sous chef for the class, and asked her to “fix it.”

She did just that, and it was great. She added a little honey and Dijon mustard to it — classic salad dressing ingredients — and it balanced right out. Our group managed to eat all the salad, so I guess it wasn’t too bad.

The old saw about CSAs is this: “If you don’t like a vegetable in your CSA box, then deep-fat fry it. If you still don’t like it, dip it in ranch dressing.”

Having partnered with Kim the past couple of years in the CSA and getting to know our members, I daresay this does not sound like our group of adventurous eaters and cooks.

If I had to pick a saying for our bunch, it would be more along the lines of: “If you don’t like a particular vegetable cooked, eat it raw!”

And if you think you don’t like greens, give one of these recipes a try (except maybe the salad — I doubt it would win any converts).

If you have a really tough case, like a picky child or grumpy spouse, try mincing up the greens very small — parsley size, even — and adding them to a good vegetable-beef soup. Italian wedding soup, with tiny veal meatballs and shreds of very finely julienned spinach, is another way to sneak greens in.

Oh, and, by the way: I do teach this kind of thing for a living. If you’re interested in classes, find out more by clicking here. Thank you for your support.

And a foodie new year to you

29 Dec

Resolved.

New Year or no, it’s never too late to do something about what and how you eat. No lectures here; I’d rather eat french fries than salad any day.

But if you’re looking for a place to start, pick one:

Cook more food at home.

Local restaurants need your support more than ever, but your body and your family crave a shared meal made up of real food prepared with love by your hands in your kitchen. I don’t mean microwave dinners, take-out or pizza delivery, either. Cook a pot of beans, grill a steak or throw something in a slow cooker.

If you need help, ask. I can point you to some resources. And if I have to teach you, I will. It’s really that important.

Cooking is a life skill, not a hobby or a chore.

Eat local.

When you do eat out, pick a locally owned spot. I like restaurants where the owners are on-site at least most of the time. Every time you eat out, you are voting with your dollars. Keep them at home and help keep your neighbors employed.

When you shop, look for locally raised or made food and other products. Of course, the easiest way to do that is to shop at a producer-only market like Cowtown Farmers Market, where all vendors must grow or produce their wares within 150 miles of Fort Worth.

Don’t even know where to begin? Join a CSA, or community supported agriculture program. We’re partners in one with Kim Gerdeman of Texas Prairie Farms. Every week, you get a share of a local, seasonal harvest and a loaf of freshly baked bread. Send me an email or comment below if you’re interested, and I’ll send you some info.

A great resource to find locally produced foods and other products is www.localharvest.org. Type in your ZIP code and you’ll get lots of local resources.

Texas is the second-largest agricultural state in the country. There’s not much that we can’t or don’t grow here. It will force you to eat seasonally, but that’s better for your health and for Mother Nature.

Grow your own.

Whether it’s a pot of herbs on your windowsill, one of the new fancy vertical planters or a square-foot plot in your backyard, gardening offers many benefits.

Gardening helps you stay in touch with nature, it provides a learning experience for children and it offers great rewards for the effort you expend. As the philosopher Guy Clark says, “There’s just two things that money can’t buy: true love and homegrown tomatoes.”

Free gardening advice is plentiful: Garden centers will start offering beginners workshops soon, libraries stock hundreds of titles and the internet is full of how-tos.

And nothing will make you more appreciative of farmers than trying to grow your own food.

Brew your own.

Beer, tea, kombucha, moonshine, juice, wine, root beer — it doesn’t matter. If you really can’t stand to cook or bake, making your own beverages might be your path. Again, the Internet is your friend. Just don’t start selling that hooch to your neighbors unless you want to draw the attention of federal agents.

Tip well.

Tipping is not a reward or punishment. Tipping is a service charge, over which you have discretion. I have written on this before: If you can’t afford to tip 15 to 20 percent on the cost of your meal (before tax), then you can’t afford to eat out at restaurants that offer service.

Servers frequently do not make minimum wage and rely on their tips to get by. Also, please know that tips are taxed fairly heavily. So when you think you’re being generous, know that Uncle Sam is taking a cut, too.

Tipping well and being a regular at a restaurant is the best way to ensure a great dining experience.

Learn something new.

You already cook, brew your own beer and have a thriving garden. What’s next? Tackle a new project. Learn to preserve foods or make puff pastry. Take a class at (shameless plug) Artisan Baking Co. or (another shameless plug, since I teach there, too) Central Market.

Share the wealth.

The U.S. Census reports that half of all Americans can be classified as at or below the poverty level. Half. That’s your neighbor, your co-worker, possibly your friend.

Do what you can: Donate cash, if you can, to the Tarrant Area Food Bank or food charity of your choice. Clean out your pantry and donate canned goods and packaged foods (you don’t want to eat that stuff, anyway) to a food drive or drop off at the food bank.

Don’t have cash or food to donate? Educate yourself about hunger issues. The most vulnerable members of our community — children, the elderly, the disabled — are most at risk of hunger.

Every little bit helps.

And, finally, a great big thank you to Zane Fischer of the Santa Fe Reporter (sfreporter.com) for writing “Edible Resolutions: Change you can digest.” Please read his column here.

I have egregiously borrowed all his topics and ideas, then framed them for my Fort Worth readers. I am grateful for the inspiration.

Vacation Cooking

28 Dec

Pampered Chef cheese knife. Unsolicited plug.

If I have access to a kitchen while on vacation, I try to do a little cooking.

When driving, this is pretty easy. I at least bring a sharp chef’s knife, one that has a custom sheath so it’s safer to travel with, and a handy-dandy cheese knife I bought from Pampered Chef. I also have a chili-kit-to-go: a large, cheap stockpot that has a small cutting board inside and room for my knives.

I have whipped up chili in a tiny alcove of a kitchen in a converted motor court in Alpine after a trip to the dollar store for a $7 pot and the IGA supermarket. I’ve cooked ribeyes in a city park while watching a herd of deer pass by at sunset.

It’s kind of a point of pride to make do with what’s available and produce a tasty meal.

But this time, we flew to our destination. Not only was I worried about airline restrictions on luggage weight, I didn’t want to attract any attention from TSA screeners by packing even one sharp knife in my suitcase.

I’ve learned a few things this go ’round.

Before I headed for the grocery store, I scoped out the kitchen. I made sure there was at least one knife, a few pots and pans, dishes, utensils and salt and pepper. Or so I thought.

There was a container of salt on the shelf, but it was empty. I made do with a little bit of seasoned salt that was probably mostly MSG, but in reality the low-sodium chicken broth sufficed.

I did buy a small box of 20 storage bags, but I really could have used some foil.

Some tips:

Look for a natural-foods store, which is more likely than other supermarkets to have bulk-food bins. This is helpful, not for buying in bulk, but just the opposite. I was able to purchase about a half-cup of good olive oil, all I’d need, without having to waste any or leave good ingredients behind. Same with rice, beans, pasta, herbs and spices.

Look for ways to use the same ingredients in different ways. My two onions and five carrots, eight slices of bacon and one head of garlic got used in at least three different dishes — but nothing tasted the same.

With limited cookware, consider one-pot meals. Plan your plating ahead, if you can, to suit the available plates, bowls and flatware.

Buy a bottle of wine to cook with that you wouldn’t mind drinking. That way, you can drink any leftovers.

Do you have any suggestions for cooking while on the road? I’d love to hear them, so please comment below.

Braisin’ on Vacation, Part 2

28 Dec

Determined not to spend all my time cooking, I went ahead and made my beef dish while I was cooking the chicken.

As soon as I finished searing the chicken, I added eight small beef short ribs to the

Kitchen in The Phoenix, where we'll spend one night on vacation.

cast-iron skillet. Those I browned on all sides before removing them and setting them aside.

To the skillet, I added butter, a little olive oil and two large shallots sliced thin. I sauteed the shallots until translucent.

I sliced several large carrots into batonnets and cooked them in boiling water until just tender. I chopped up six of the eight slices of bacon that I had rendered for the fat.

To an ovenproof casserole dish, I added the short ribs, shallots,  carrots and bacon. I added half a bottle of zinfandel and some chicken broth. I put it in a 325 degree oven for a couple of hours. I let it cool to room temperature, then placed everything in a large bowl, covered it and refrigerated it overnight.

The next day, I dumped the ribs and vegetables into the now-cleaned Dutch oven and added the other half of the bottle of wine. I turned up the heat, brought everything to a boil, then turned it way down to let it simmer for a few more hours until the meat was tender and, yes, falling off the bone. Most of this time I kept the pot uncovered to allow the sauce to reduce.

I cut the new potatoes into quarters and cooked them in water and chicken broth in a much too small saucepan. When they were tender — I stuck them with a fork — I drained them. I melted some butter in the too small pot and started breaking up the potatoes with the fork. When the butter was just starting to turn brown, I poured it into the potatoes and continued to mash with a fork. Then I added several dollops of whole-milk yogurt because I neglected to buy milk or cream.

I served the ribs on top of the mashed potatoes in those shallow soup bowls. We both had seconds.

We still have chicken and short rib leftovers, plus some rice and mashed potatoes. I also cooked a small pot of beans — those pretty red-and-white speckled ones — with a chopped slice of bacon, some chopped onion, some chicken broth, a pinch of New Mexico red chile I found in the cabinet and water.

(And, in case you’re counting, I ate one slice of the bacon yesterday. For quality control testing purposes.)

Tomorrow, I can make a brown rice and bean dish with some of the local salsa we bought. I also have enough leftovers to make a chicken and rice soup. The ribs will probably get warmed up and eaten as is, with maybe some more of that toasted bread to sop up the gravy.

I’ll get at least six meals out of one cooking session. I spent about an hour and a half prepping the ingredients. I did use some convenience products: chicken parts, a box of chicken broth, grated parmesan.

Considering meals at restaurants here in Taos have been running about $30 for two, plus tip, spending $100 at the grocery and a couple of hours cooking has been well worth it.

It also was important for me to get a feel for cooking in an Earthship where one has to be mindful of energy and water use. But that’s a whole ‘nother post.

 

 

Braisin’ on Vacation, Part I

28 Dec

We’re on vacation, but staying in a home.

While the promotional materials call the ktichens “equipped,” I’m guessing most folks who stay here don’t do any kind of serious cooking. The mis-matched dishes are, of course, someone’s discards and the cookware is of the cheap dollar-store variety.

Constrained by luggage weight limits on flights, I left all my chef toys — including a sharp knife — at home. I was determined to make do with what was available.

The first day we made an exploratory run to the local natural-foods store in Taos.

Having sussed out the kitchen and Cid’s, I took a shopping list the next day: chicken thighs, a little olive oil from the bulk department, the smallest bottle of balsamic vinegar I could buy, butter, some kind of beef to braise, carrots, onions, garlic, shallots, parm, brown rice, organic low-sodium chicken broth, dried beans, roasted tomatoes from the olive bar and baby spinach.

My plan was to do a braised chicken dish with brown rice, a beef stew or similar and soup from whatever leftovers I had.

The only “extras” I picked up were eight slices of uncured, smoked bacon and a small bag of small red potatoes. I’d also need to stop at the liquor store for a bottle each of red and white wine.

The best surprise was a 10-inch cast-iron skillet I found in the kitchen cabinet. That would become my searing pan. It was a little dried out but cooking the bacon in it first fixed that.

Setting the bacon aside and draining off most of the fat to save for future use, I threw a few big cloves of garlic in the pan, then the chicken. I ended up with the last two bone-in thighs at the market, plus four drumsticks.

I seared the chicken until brown and the skin was crispy, then set it aside. In the Dutch oven, I added a little of the reserved bacon drippings and a dollop of olive oil.

Once the fat was hot, I added one huge onion, slivered, and turned the heat down to low. Once the onions were translucent, I added a few cloves of garlic, the chicken thighs and drumsticks, a third of the box of chicken stock, a bottle of Chardonnay and a couple of shakes from the bottle of dried mixed Italian herbs I found on the shelf.

In a separate small saucepan, I cooked a julienned carrot in boiling water just until tender then drained them and added the carrots to the chicken.

Meanwhile, I sauteed about a cup of raw, sprouted brown rice in some butter. When it started smelling nutty, I added chicken stock and water to make about three cups of cooking liquid. I covered the pot and let it cook for about 45 minutes. I turned off the heat, drained some excess liquid and fluffed the rice with a fork. I returned the cover to the pan and set it aside until serving time.

I let the chicken simmer on very low heat in the Dutch oven for a couple of hours, until the meat was very tender. When it was about time to eat, I fished the chicken and vegetables out of the broth with a slotted spoon and set it aside in a big bowl.

Then I boiled the remaining liquid until reduced by about half. I turned down the heat and added a couple of splashes of balsamic vinegar and started adding small bits of softened butter, stirring as it melted into the sauce. That’s mounting the sauce with butter, if you want to get technical.

I added the chicken and vegetables back into the pot. I served the dish in a shallow soup bowl by spooning in some rice, then adding a thigh and drumstick on top, with vegetables and sauce.

Since we’d bought some good sourdough bread in Santa Fe at Sage, I sliced some, buttered it and put it into a skillet to toast. I flipped it, then sprinkled with grated parmesan cheese.

It was pretty good, despite the elderly ground pepper and lack of salt.

Lesson learned: Buy a small amount of salt and some peppercorns from the bulk section. Really, the only thing I would have changed about the meal.

Roasted Garlic Mashed Potatoes

22 Nov

Roasted Garlic Mashed Potatoes

Cream cheese and sour cream are added to the potatoes to add richness, but also to help them retain their texture when reheated. I usually make this recipe the day before serving in much larger quantities: 10 pounds of potatoes for a big family dinner, 20 pounds when I used to bring this dish to the office Thanksgiving potluck.

Serves 8

3 pounds Idaho potatoes, peeled and cut into large chunks (I like Yukon Golds)
8 tablespoons (1 stick) unsalted butter, softened
1/2 cup heavy cream
4 ounces cream cheese, brought to room temperature
1/2 cup sour cream
1 head roasted garlic, removed from skin and mashed
Salt
Freshly ground black pepper

Boil the potatoes in salted water until tender, about 15 minutes.
Drain and place them in a large mixing bowl. Add the butter, cream or milk, cream cheese, sour cream, and roasted garlic.

Mix everything together with a potato masher for slightly chunky, home-style mashed potatoes. For ultra-smooth potatoes, use an electric mixer.

Season with salt and pepper to taste. Serve hot.

Store any leftovers in a covered container in the refrigerator. You can reheat them in a microwave or, covered with aluminum foil, in a 350-degree F oven until hot.

 

– from Gorgeous Garlic by Gwin Grogan Grimes, Rio Nuevo Press

 

Organic, naturally grown or … whatever

19 Sep
A response to the oft-asked and rarely answered thoroughly question: Are you organic?
While you will find many Cowtown Farmers Market vendors (the number and therefore the percentage change seasonally) meet or exceed U.S. organic standards, none at this time are Certified Organic by the U.S. Dept. of Agriculture.
Please understand that many of the vendors are small family farms and simply cannot afford the thousands of dollars, mounds of paperwork and the seven years of documentation it takes to get what is merely approval to use a government-issued label — one that is not without controversy; hence, many farmers are far more stringent than the minimums set by the government.
I am happy to report that the number of growers using natural methods is growing. Some of our vendors announce it with signs; others you will have to ask. The farmers are very forthcoming about their practices and are happy to talk to you about it — from those who are “naturally grown” to those who are “conventional” growers.
However, please be aware that if you go from booth to booth asking about “organic,” you will hear all negative answers. That is because the government can sue a grower for using the term “organic,” even if they meet or exceed organic standards, unless they pay the fees, document, wait seven years, etc.
Having watched the market change and grow over the past four years, and having also observed our customers, I can assure you that a polite inquiry about growing practices will net you as much information (or more!) as you need in order to feel comfortable choosing vendors that you will feel comfortable doing business with.
Farmers at farmers markets are there for a reason — they love selling direct to their customers, swapping recipes and cooking tips (I am not kidding — they are some of the best cooks I know!), and even talking about your garden at home. As long as there is not a long line of customers waiting to be helped, they will talk to you all day about their growing practices. We have one vendor who has a Ph.D. in agriculture and is a retired Tarleton professor. Another works for the U.S.D.A. Extension Service.
The beauty of being able to look the farmer in the eye and talk about the food you are going to be serving your family is one of the true values of farmers markets. Sure beats trusting a sticker on a piece of fruit at a supermarket.

Food for thought

19 Sep

On Cowtown Farmers Market

Our farmers and vendors need your support year-round. They work hard to provide you with the freshest locally produced foods and value-added items. Eating lots of fresh produce, in sync with the seasons, is not only the healthiest diet but also can be the most economical.

One of the most common myths is that farmers markets are more expensive than supermarkets. While prices will vary from item to item, week to week, overall farmers markets are a great value for your food dollar — not to mention the produce is so much fresher that it will have much longer shelf life in your kitchen rather than on a store shelf.

We could cite the numerous studies done by universities and other agencies that support our claim, but it’s best to do the math yourself.

Remember that when you purchase produce at a grocery store, you’re almost always buying it by the pound, not by volume. Do you weigh and calculate the cost in the produce department, or do you just pick out what you want and hope for the best when the cashier rings up your purchase? Only a couple of local supermarkets have scales and price stickers you print yourself in the produce section, therefore letting you see an immediate total price for those tomatoes or cukes.

We also work to provide a good mix of items from which to choose: fresh produce is our mainstay and reason for being, of course, but also handmade tamales;  local raw honey;  freshly baked breads and sweet treats;  all-natural soap and bath products;  locally roasted organic coffee beans; cut flowers for your home and starter plants for your garden, among other items. Remember us when it comes time to do your holiday shopping, too!

That’s why it is so disappointing when a customer walks up, asks where the tomatoes (or peaches, or strawberries, or whatever) are, and when we we explain that the season is over, they turn around and leave without looking at anything else. Why would you drive to a market and turn around and leave without even seeing what else is available?

I realize the tomatoes, peaches and strawberries are the best ever. But so are our zucchinis, onions, pears and eggplants. What’s worse is when customers get mad and leave in a huff — like it’s the farmers fault? It boggles my mind.

Cowtown Farmers Market has been serving Fort Worth for almost 35 years, and is the only producer-only market that operates in the city. Everything we sell must be grown or made within 150 miles of Fort Worth.

Why is this important? If you spend $100 at a grocery store, only $25 stays here. If you spend $100 at a farmers market, $62 goes back into the local economy – and $99 out of $100 stays in the state.

That means your dollars are staying at home and working for you when you shop with us.

We appreciate your support.

(Adapted from the Cowtown Farmers Market newsletter that I wrote last week.)

Free advice, worth the price

6 Oct

When I reviewed restaurants as part of my job at various print publications, I typically had little to no contact with restaurant management. My visit or visits were anonymous and, later, I’d call to set up some sort of photo shoot to illustrate the review.

Of course, it’s different now. I don’t have tens of thousands of readers. I still go to restaurants, dine anonymously and pay for it. Now I foot the bill and write for ye olde blogg instead of the paper.

The other big difference is that I don’t set limits about what I can or cannot say about a restaurant. At every magazine, newspaper and journal that I’ve written for, the rule — spoken, written or neither — is that you can’t be too negative. “Readers don’t want to read negative reviews,” I was told all those years.

Oh, you’ll see a nitpick or two in almost every published review — to give it “credibility” — most of the time the rule was if a place was truly horrible, we just couldn’t write about it. Because by the simple act of publishing the restaurant’s name, vitals and a menu overview — what most reviews in mainstream media are these days — the publication considers it a recommendation.

Reading between the lines, I quickly figured out that negative reviews piss off restaurants and chefs who then won’t advertise in your publication. Ever. I don’t have that problem with my non-commercial offering here, but then I’m not in the business of pissing of restaurants and chefs, either.

My motivation? I like to tell others about really great places to eat, especially the local, independent venues that don’t get much media attention and have little or no ad budget. Like Salsa Fuego or Smoke House Cafe. I tell my friends about them, I tweet and blog about them and I check in on Foursquare when I’m there.

And, unless I’m eating at one my usual places, the ones in heavy rotation, the old restaurant critic instinct kicks in. And on top of that, when I go a new place that’s been hyped up all over the place, my BS sensors go into overdrive.

So far, I’ve gotten a little bit of feedback from restaurant management. When I was writing mini-reviews on Twitter, I got into a rather heated discussion with a restaurant owner who took offense at my comments. She couldn’t understand how I could have the nerve — the nerve! — to say anything “bad” about her eatery.

She quit arguing with my opinion (that should tell you something right there) after about a dozen 140-character messages back and forth.

Never mind that I reviewed restaurants professionally for a couple of decades, went to culinary school and teach aspiring chefs as a state-certified culinary instructor. She just couldn’t admit her restaurant’s obvious faults and was defensive to the end. I’m sorry, but it’s obvious to me when a server is patronizing. It’s not a personality conflict; your server has a snotty attitude. Maybe he had a bad day and is wonderful the rest of the time; all I know is I got snot.

It just stuns me when business owners/chefs/restaurant managers are so defensive that they cannot see or accept constructive criticism for what it is. I don’t write about things in restaurants that either can’t be fixed or don’t need to be fixed. In general, the things I suggest cost little or nothing — ask the servers to not be jerks (duh) and put salt and pepper on the food (double duh).

Imagine my surprise when a friend told me she was quizzed about yours truly while dining at a restaurant that recently came under my scrutiny. The manager was in a huff and on the defensive, ready with a zillion excuses for bad behavior and worse food. “Why don’t you just fix it,” my friend told him. Apparently, he’d rather gripe about me than confront the shortcomings of his restaurant, which were validated and further enumerated by a number of commentators here on NJHFTF.

Geez, people, would you rather pay me or a colleague a whole bunch of money as a consultant to tell you what’s wrong or just take the free advice and fix it already? Oh, wait, I think I know the answer to that one: Option C: complain, point fingers, make excuses. Anything but FIX IT.

I don’t base my opinion of a restaurant whether I “like” something or not. I evaluate how well the food is prepared, how it looks and if it tastes like the dish is supposed to taste. If it’s a new creation (and what really is?), I’ll compare it other similar dishes.

I’m not looking to pick a fight. I’m not going to argue if my opinion is correct. I will, however, defend my evaluation of how the food is cooked, if a room is comfortable for most and if I am treated like a human being or a fangirl. It’s actually a pretty objective thing.

How it tastes — now that is subjective.

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