Earlier this month I talked about carob and cocoa, and shared a couple big takeaways.
The first is a reminder that just because we may have tried something and didn't like it before, that's not a reflection on whether the food is 'good,' or even whether we'll like it now or in the future. In this case, the food was carob powder, used as a cocoa powder substitute in natural foods circles for a handful of decades, and one I accidentally discovered as a kid in the 1980s.
But more important than my personal distaste for using carob in place of cocoa, my dive into carob was a powerful reminder that our use of ingredients as stand ins for others is often devoid of context and nuance: I didn't know about carob's history or
its use in a staple Ramadan drink when I was six years old. But learning about both reconnected me to carob, giving me an appreciation for carob as an ingredient and as itself.
There are plenty of directions to explore here, and a lot of people have: how colonialism is responsible not only for the movement of ingredients and dishes globally, but also for repackaging/repurposing/removing context. Or Deanna Fox's grappling with appropriation versus appreciation (there are a good number of other pieces on the boundaries and interconnections between these two concepts as well).
And finally, the many debates circulating around "authenticity" as a loaded concept. Many note that framing something as "authentic" divorces it from its context: Like our carob, sticking an inaccurate label on any ingredient means that food is stuck in time and place. By something becoming "authentic," it isn't allowed to move or shift with the cultures it encounters (a good summary of that is in the "food grammar" piece below). It becomes bound to one way of viewing and understanding a cuisine that shrinks the cuisine in question down to a fragment of itself, too. When we demand "authenticity," we aren't allowed to know it better because we aren't giving ourselves space to question, understand, dive deeper, and be curious.
The undergirding theme across these is that need for nuance and for context. Being able to put food in context is to be able to appreciate it. To understand it. That context sometimes is our own lived experience, our culture, our familial traditions. In other cases it's the history of the food: stories behind it, and preparation of it, that perhaps we didn't know before. The more contexts we can connect to, the more access points we have for understanding the foods around us and in so doing the people and communities who produce and prepare them.
P.S.
The need for context and nuance has been a big theme in my own life, too: An unexpected visit to Iowa, which I called home for ten years, asked me to think about that space within a new context. I lived in Iowa when I was far more interested in staying out late and partying it up than I am now, and so I always framed the city within that context. Like carob syrup in place of chocolate, it just didn't taste right to me in my current life.
A draft of the carob/cocoa email sat on my computer leading up to the trip, and I spent a good deal of my time on the plane thinking about how I could apply the lessons of context and nuance I got from that research to a physical place. I stepped off the plane with the intention of appreciating the place for itself, as myself. Or in other words, not holding myself to old patterns or places, but rather exploring my old city as I would explore a new one.
While I did visit some old favorites (hello Haunted Bookshop, George's, and Deluxe Bakery), I wasn't constrained by checking off boxes on an itinerary. I posted up unexpectedly at a kombucha bar and a wine bar, walked around and looked at changing leaves, visited a new brewery with an old friend. I left feeling an appreciation for my old home that I hadn't felt in years: By letting go of my preconceptions and following my curiosity, I was able to enjoy things for what they were.
To Read
The Hidden Cosmos: A Fermentation Oracle and Recipe Deck is on sale through November 30th using the code GRATITUDE on Etsy or my website.
For Root member/paid newsletter subscribers, you can combine that discount with your existing member discount! Exciting!
*Important note: Please, please place your orders for holiday gifts by 11/30 for international shipping, and by 12/10 for domestic shipping.*
Other good reads:
I join other chefs in this Good Housekeeping piece on pantry staples and wax poetic about sea salt.
Food webs are a useful way to understand an ecosystem and how resources move within it. This piece underscores the importance of understanding the gaps in our knowledge when examining ancient food webs, and how those gaps alter the way we share and understand ecological research.
I'm in love with this powerful fermentation/art installation from Palestine Hosting Society, whose ferments "lend a hand and an ear to reflections that expand from the jar to notions of death, rebirth, fear, relationships, community and ecosystems that work with time to create transformation."
Emily Monaco discusses food grammar, and how we can envision different cuisines through the lens of language and sentence structure.
Some book recommendations from my 'recently read' + 'to read' piles: The Book of Difficult Fruit by Kate Lebo, On Looking: A Walker's Guide to the Art of Observation by Alexandra Horowitz, The Lost Apothecary by Sarah Penner, The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue by V.E. Schwab, Owls of the Eastern Ice by Jonathan C. Slaght, and Tree: A Life Story by David Suzuki and Wayne Grady.
To make: Sore muscle relief spray
Winter is a time for rest and renewal, but so often we encounter stress and obligation around this time that keeps us from getting the reset and the deep rest we need. In times when my muscles are sore and tense, but I'm also short on time, this spray has brought much needed relief.
Originally taught to me by my friend (and licensed massage therapist) Lauren Harris, this spray is rich in magnesium (which is great for sore muscles), though she cautions that those with liver or kidney disease should check with their doctor before use.
If you don't have time to take an epsom salt bath, but want some of the muscle-soothing benefits, this spray is a wonderful option. For the best absorption, spray it on damp skin right after a warm shower, though it can be used any time.
1/4 cup epsom salts
1 cup water
1 tbsp sea salt
4-6 drops essential oils (I use tea tree and lavender)
Heat water and add salts, stir to dissolve. Remove from heat and add essential oils. Store in a spray bottle, and avoid eyes/sensitive skin when using.