Save Monterey Market!

Monterey Market, which I mention in my latest post Indian Beans, is being threatened by a family dispute (See SF Gate article). Please join in this community petition from chefs, customers, farmers by June 3rd to save Monterey Market. Thank you all!

Indian Beans: Returning to the Kitchen (& Recipe)

The wonderful thing about coming home after being away for a stretch is that you realize the former thread of your "home" life has persisted in very much the same manner as ever before. Things around you are the same, your knife, the shadows in the kitchen, the hum of the water heater; same and yet different. (Different as in the nonstick saute pan that was mistreated as a cutting board!!) One thing remains wholly unchanged, I have been back in the kitchen daily since returning.

One of my first market trips upon returning home was to an unexplored gem recommended to me by a friend who had recently discovered its bounty. Monterey Market sits on a corner of Hopkins and Monterey in North Berkeley. The small market reminisces of what Berkeley Bowl on the south side of town might have been a few decades back; quaint, pleasantly quiet, a gentler pace of life. Both markets stock an impressive display of fresh fruits and veggies in varieties unheard of, as well as a fair selection of dry goods. Their philosophy of creating a community oriented exchange between local farmers and consumers felt unpretentious and really followed through for me at Monterey Market. The prices are also hard to beat - $1.79 per pound for Ranier and Bing Cherries!



BEANS BEANS!
Towards the end of the excursion I happened across some beautifully toasty looking dried beans in a sack labeled "Indian Beans." A pound or so of these rattled home with me as my companion and I plotted the best uses for them. Unsurprisingly (yet also unappetizing to hear) most of the beans you buy from the store, the pre-bagged mundane pinto, black, and kidney varieties, are ten years old or more on average. It seems though they've truly squatted out their existence without expiration on the shelf. It became clear to me with my deeply tanned beauties in hand that a host of other exquisite and intriguing choices eagerly await discovery.

From our one pound purchase we have so far produced:
- a version of rice and daal (lentils) with Indian spices, saffron rice, and fried scallions
- slow-cooked bbq beans with smoked pork shoulder, onions, and a sweet vinegar base
- 15 bean plants (an impatient peek under the soil revealed that 6 have sprouted)
A little goes a long way. About a third of the beans await a future use.



FOR THE GREEN THUMBS OUT THERE
Growing a few bean plants really could not be an easier, more rewarding feat (Discounting your future struggle with the deer who also love your bean plants). Simply bury the dry beans under an inch or so of moist soil in a pot and wait a few weeks for the seeds to sprout through the dirt. After your saplings have grown to 4-6 inches, transplant them to the ground along a fence or some stakes to allow the vines to crawl up. (Mid-late spring to early summer)



THE RECIPE
Spiced Rice & Indian Beans
(2 servings with leftovers)
Rice:
- 1C Basmati or Jasmine long grained rice, rinsed
- 1 1/4C water or broth
- 1 tsp olive oil
- few saffron threads
- bay leaf
- salt
- 1/4 tsp turmeric
- few shakes of cayenne
- few shakes of smoked paprika
*spice amounts are very flexible according to your preferences, experiment - add, subtract, omit, create

Fried Scallions:
- 1 scallion chopped into ringlets
- flour for dusting
- canola oil, for frying (reserve the oil)
- salt

Beans:
- 1/3 lb dried beans, pre-soaked overnight or at least a few hours
- olive oil
- 1/4 onion, med-fine chop
- garlic powder
- scallion oil (from fried scallions above)
- salt

1) Add all rice ingredients to a rice cooker, stir and cook according to machine directions; fluff with a fork afterwards
- OR add all ingredients to a pot and cover, bring to a boil and reduce to a simmer for 15-25 min until rice is tender
- salt to taste
2) Using a sieve, coat scallion rings with flour
- heat up oil about 1/8" deep in a small pan (test with a piece of scallion, if it begins to sizzle and bubble the oil is hot enough
- fry scallions in the oil until golden
- strain out scallions and drain on paper towels, lightly salt immediately
- reserve scallion oil for the beans
3) Drain the beans
- heat up olive oil in a saute pan
- add onions, saute until translucent but still slightly crunchy ~ 5 min
- season with garlic powder, salt, and a small amount of scallion oil (~1/2 tsp)
- mix in the beans and then spread into a single flat layer over the pan
- without stirring, allow the beans and onions to caramelize and develop crusty brown edges ~ 5-7min
- stir gently and redistribute in a single layer to allow the other sides to caramelize
4) Remove from heat
- gently mix in the rice
- top with fried scallions

* I paired this dish with Indian-spiced roasted game hen - rub a whole bird with a ground spice mix of cardamom, garam masala, coriander, sea salt, cumin seed, cayenne, a touch of cinnamon. Cover with plain yogurt (~ 1.5 C) and marinate for 30 min to an hour. Roast in a 450F preheated oven for 45-50 min, turning halfway.

Bay Area Street Carts

There has been a recent appearance of food vendors in Northern California, particularly in the Mission district of San Francisco and in Oakland in the East Bay. An article from SF Gate "Growing crop of vendors hitting the streets".

Some take home points:
- "fun-employed"
- lower costs, hard economy
- require permits - some operate clandestinely
- variety of choices - Vietnamese pho, French creme brulee, escargot to-go, Thai curry
- strict regulations might cause the end of the temporary surge of vendors
- desire to connect with street global street food (How beautiful is this!)

Moonshine Vietnamese Yogurt: Overcoming Shipfood (Recipe included)

I am once again back in the comfort of my kitchen and eagerly reacquainting myself with my dear pots, pans, peeler, pairing knife... sigh of relief and satisfaction. A few of you have been curious to know about my food experiences, not in port, but actually on the ship. In short, I will fondly remember mealtimes onboard for provoking community interaction and fascinating dialogue; eating together as family has never struck so deeply with me. What will not be missed are the chemical-infused vegetables and the all-too-prolific potatoes which plagued all three meals daily.

Day one, upon stepping into the dining hall I immediately knew I was in for a challenge: No access to the galleys, request for work-study as a kitchen prep assistant denied, knives were strictly forbidden aboard the vessel, and an increasingly threatening sign plastered over the hand sanitizer read "Do not remove food items from the dining hall (fruit, cereal, yogurt, silverware, etc.)" - right. How as I to master my sanity for the next 106 days? The buffet line offered increasing terror: sad iceberg lettuce that made me want to weep, unripe tomato wedges occasionally disguised as slices, peanut butter and jelly that slowly morphed into neon shades over the course of the voyage (I kid you not), and an impressively offensive 1LB of potatoes prepared per PASSENGER per DAY (where was the good and simple rice?! Eyes wide in horror).

AN IDEA IS FORMED
While strolling through the dairy aisle at a supermercado in Spain, our first port of call, I was beckoned by fresh yogurt sold in traditional glass jars. As I admired the environmentally friendly, recyclable, awesome packaging, slowly the idea formed that I too could participate in reusing the jars for making my own yogurt. In that lightbulb moment I impulsively committed myself to a subsequent 100 days of small-batch yogurt making in the secrecy of my cabin - mini fridge included). I walked out of the store smiling with yogurt, jars, and a family-sized "La Lechera" sweetened condensed milk in hand.

The yogurt we were offered during breakfast was rather appalling. Containing a dozen or so unnecessary ingredients including unpronounceable preservatives and cornstarch as a thickening agent, it left an indelible imprint on my taste buds for its slimy, plasticky mouthfeel. I exaggerate, but barely. Fortunately by Cape Town the yogurt stock was replenished with quite tasty South African fruit flavors and even Yoplait was a welcome sight on the last leg of our voyage.

Meanwhile however I fell in love with the rebellious mission of creating my own food onboard. My task was facilitated by the self-serve coffee and tea bar provided throughout the day. Milk and sugar condiments were placed conveniently next to the hot water dispenser, one stealthy trip up two decks and across the hall to my cabin. The final count included: yogurt culture, sweetened condensed milk, "fresh" vacuum sealed box milk (provided), and hot water (provided). The elaborate process resulted in a traditional Vietnamese-styled yogurt which is tart, sweet, creamy and deliciously unlike your average supermarket brand. (The process is only laborious due to the confines of the ship - do not be dissuaded to try the recipe, which is incredibly simple and well worth the effort).

ALL IN GOOD FUN
Yogurt making became a bi or tri-weekly chore, meditative in the way folding clothes are for some of you weirdos out there (I admit to being one of them), and dish washing is for others (I am NOT one of you). Every couple of days I would pull out my previous, mostly-eaten batch of yogurt to start a new jar. My original Spanish yogurt was now long gone, but the offspring bacterium robustly continued the legacy. (I'm curious to know what generation I finally reached by the time we docked back in Florida).

Eventually my cabin steward, who was well aware of my on-going illicit project, wanted in on the recipe as well. In hindsight, it was a moderately absurd undertaking: procuring ingredients, mixing, incubating, refrigerating, eating, repeat, repeat, repeat... What did I gain from the inconvenience of hiking up to the 6th deck dining hall for hot water and half a jar of milk, dodging the Chief Officer of Hospitality, to make my witch's brew? Brimming spoonfuls of satisfaction from every mouthful of homemade yogurt that entered my mouth.

THE RECIPE
I've been most successful with this recipe in small batches (ie: one-serving creations), due to limited materials on the ship. However there should be no reason why the recipe wouldn't work equally well in multiply single-service 6 oz containers or even a larger 27 oz bulk batch.

Vietnamese Yogurt
(for 1 serving - 3/4C yogurt)
- hot water (near boiling)
- 1/2 C+ milk (whole works best, or 2%)
- 2 tsp+ sweetened condensed milk (according to taste)
- 1-2 tsp plain yogurt with live culture (I use Trader Joe's organic plain)
NON-EDIBLE Materials:
- small jar (larger Gerber's baby food jar works)
- wide mug (large enough for small jar to sit comfortably inside)
- plastic bag (from produce section of your local market)
- 2 kitchen towels

1) Spoon sweetened condensed milk into the jar
- add a tiny amount of hot water and stir to dissolve
- add milk, stir
2) In a separate bowl stir yogurt culture well until smooth with a small amount of hot water
- add to jar of milk
- fill remaining space in jar with more milk or some hot water
3) Place jar into the mug and create a water bath by filling the mug halfway with hot water
- cover the top of the jar with a napkin or plastic wrap
- place entire set-up (jar + mug) inside a plastic bag and twist the end closed
- wrap the bag+jar+mug in a kitchen towel and insulate it with the second towel
4) Set aside undisturbed in a warm place for at least 6 hours
- at this time you can check on the yogurt to see if it has set (become firm enough for your liking). If not, replenish the hot water bath and rebundle for another 1-2 hours.
- chill in the fridge a least 2 hours before eating (preferably overnight)

* If you have difficulty getting your yogurt to set properly, use the larger amount of yogurt culture
* Typically your second and subsequent batches will work better than the first batch
* You can prepare the yogurt at night and allow it to incubate overnight; place into the fridge in the morning when you wake up - try not to sleep in.

Picture updates to older posts

With the luxury of unrestricted internet access once again, I bring you...

• Lamb and prune tagine (Morocco)
• Kuisemund Township bbq / Stewed Caterpillars (Namibia)
• Masala chai with rickshaw driver, Rama / In the rickshaw with Rama (India)
• Behind a curry vending cart / #1 curry (India)
• Thailand street foods (Thailand)
  
• University street foods / View from Hong Kong Island / "You tiao" Chinese friend donuts (China)
• "Banh mi" sandwich cart / Da Lat agricultural fields / Beach hawker / Toddler-chair street dining (Vietnam)
• Tuna, Tsukiji fish market / Salmon onigiri / Noodle soup standing counter shop / Okonomiyaki pancake (Japan)
• Lake Atitlan / Street tacos (Guatemala)
  

The Finale: Guatemalan Street Foods (GUATEMALA - post 1 of 1)

As we entered Guatemala, the final country on our itinerary, I struggled to remain energetic in my project to engage with street food vendors around the world. Nevertheless, the fatigue of constant travel wicked away upon reaching Antigua, a quiet cobblestoned town south of Guatemala City, and the magnificent Lake Atitlan. The excitement of participating in a country's food culture resurged in me once again.

Street vending in Guatemala cumulates many themes of the economies I've encountered in my travels. Perhaps Guatemala reveals aspects of all the street vending cultures I've previously visited simply because it is the last stop in our semester long journey, and I've become attune to the globally reoccurring characteristics across vending activities. Particularly amongst the Asian countries, common threads are outstanding. From an informal economy exemplified in India (responding to the needs of an impoverished market), the small home-converted-eateries functioning as social spaces in Vietnam, to the surprising sparcity of street vendors similarly encountered in China, Guatemala displays facets of it all.

Makeshift sidewalk shops and individual hawkers crowd the small pueblo streets of Guatemala, at times making up a greater percentage of the population than actual customers. Most of these businesses feature souvenir trinkets and tradition textiles for sale, rather than the cheap foods that have become a familiar part of my surrounds. What motivates the prevalence of food in some countries over trifle gifts and knickknacks in others? Is it the type of government, the strength of the economy, an individual need? Or perhaps the reasoning lies in the genetic disposition of a population. Unsurprisingly the simplest enterprises with low costs and low skill dominate the scene, spurred on by the fluid nature of entering and exiting the market. In Guatemala, fruit vendors carry out this position, selling bags of freshly cut papaya, pineapple, mangoes, and melons strung in colorful packages along the front of the wooden carts, and leading the way in the relatively underdeveloped street food scene.

"SUPER" TACO BELL
Panajachel is the largest and liveliest of several indigenous pueblos surrounding Lake Atitlan, a two-hour, winding, mountainous drive from Antigua. Even within the tourist hotspot of the picturesque town, food vending is a quiet and minor affair. At corner junctions of the narrow, "main" roads, a tiny community of two or three carts with gaudy red and yellow neon signs, your choice of either "Super Taco Bell" or "Fried Chicken and Fries," serve up (tacos or thighs) in the late evening hours. Having eaten at a disappointing bar-cafe our first night in Panajachel, I resolved not to leave the town without having sampled the carnitas tacos (sole menu item) at one of these street carts. It was a good decision - even after accounting for the ungainly trek over irregular stonework and sudden lightning storm + accompanying downpour. Three miniature masa corn tortillas were quickly fried in a moat of rusty-amber oil surrounding a protruding dome griddle. The tortillas are freshly made throughout the day by women selling bulk stacks to restaurant or individuals from their homes. Shredded braised pork and caramelized onions, reheated over the island griddle, mounded into one of these palm-sized shells before being topped with cabbage-cilantro slaw and salsa. As with any universal street food offering, these tacos sold for the budget price of about $0.6.



SERIOUSLY?! THE INFLUENCES OF CORRUPTION
Reflecting the economic strains of a developing nation, Guatemala street vendors are frequented mainly by locals, or the occasional adventurous traveler, in the same manner noted in India and Vietnam. The market is run mostly by young men in their late twenties or earlier thirties. Shy and polite, they disguise the economic burden of their families behind smiles or impassive stares. While the food was fresh, delicious, and inexpensive, other similar options (both in price and variety) are also served in small, home-converted-restaurants, which challenges the possibility of reaching profitable scales. Permits and formal regulatory devices seemed laughable wishfulness after encountering the corruption of local government authorities (we were offered protection against "ladrones," thieves on the road, in return for "una propina," tip money to cover the cost of disel from uniformed police at a gas station).

High crime, particularly in Guatemala City, is driven by poverty and disillusionment. Blatant corruption in every level of society perpetuates the disincentive for evolution and progression (we were also required to pay a small "entrance" fee for our taxi to enter the ocean port gates). I pause to consider, what drives a community to reach for an ephemeral, weak solution? Yet in spite of the presence of poverty within the community, the grim reality is subtly concealed behind cheerfully painted stores, a mishmash of corrugated metal (another universal indicator of need).

REFLECTION & REACTION
Over the past 100 days, I've traveled with the intention to understand the role of street foods in various countries and identify the cross-cultural threads of this unique offering of food. Food has long served a need greater than nutrition: community venues, gestures of hospitality and friendship, or tasteful indicators of cultural conduct. With regards to the foodstuffs themselves, they are a bargain way to eat fresh when one knows where to look. While developing economies may rely on street food as a primitive dining choice, these societies have also sustained communities and networks, sprung from gathering around a cart and becoming well acquainted with a favorite vendor and neighbors. In Western societies, we've become conditioned to recognizing standardization of national and international franchises as an indicator of consistency, if not quality. When presented with the option of freshly fried chicken (the real fowl in all of its once-feathery-existence), sizzlingly in recycled hot oil on grimy side streets, most of us will opt for Kentucky Fried Chicken's characterizing red and white sign, bathing us with promises of security and familiarity. We bury our heads and faces in the relief of "knowing" the source of our food. But what does this standard quality compared to? Are we to judge the character of the best fried chicken to be from a formulated recipe without even considering a "less worthy," freelance alternative? Or what of the host of other unfamiliar foods we pass off as too foreign, unsophisticated, or unappealing, always to return to the safety of fast food chains.

Small-scale operations enable consumers to be proactive about their meals. In my daring embrace of street food, always in protest of medical authorities' greater opinion, I was never once left seeking a toilet in despair; which brings me to a comment about traveling and food. In the U.S. food borne diseases are the greatest source of food related illnesses, however concern about our food on our home turf easily escapes our consciousness. We find ourselves on foreign soil and immediately paranoia sets in: we lose money and cameras, or are confined to the hotel toilet, convinced it was the unsanitary conditions of the country's food system. As with choosing the quality of your apples at the market, or between three different steakhouses to get the perfect steak, food options in different countries come in different forms and degrees of excellence. Food sold on the streets should not be faulted for being sold on the streets, but instead averted for being prepared in advanced and left to the mercy of flies and the sun. A beautiful feature of street food is its preparation on the street, naked to the scrutiny of the customer. In some ways it may be much safer than national chains we've come to adore and rely on.

Go out, take many first bites of old favorites assembled differently, familiar ingredients with unexpected flavors, or better yet experiment with something entirely unidentifiable.

THANK YOU!
Thank you to those of you who have followed my blog across the continents. I will be updating previous posts with photos in the upcoming weeks and also plan on concluding my tales from abroad with a post about battling the daily ship food buffet. I will continue with First Bite and will likely focus on crafting recipes from my experiences as well as inspiration from the local bounty. Cheers.