Food, Wine, Good (and Evil) Spirits

Blowhard

Anyone who has known me longer than he’s willing to admit will tell you that there’s one grim subject that haunts my waking hours, a capricious and terrible bitch that lurks constantly on the outer ridges of my consciousness, ready to leap to the fore at the sound of a sniffle. What provokes such cathexis, you ask? It’s the state of my perpetually fucked sinus cavities.¹ I’ll avoid the details, just know pollen is my nemesis, Kleenex abound, etc. Electric conversation really, sure to win many admirers.

The logical response to these histrionics should be, “go see a doctor, son.” But you see, the thing is, I already have an allergist and an ENT and to whatever extent they’ve helped—and they’ve helped a lot—I still don’t breathe right.² So I started seeing a Chinese physician whose holistic approach relies largely on acupuncture and healthy eating. My allergies, I was told, would be much less of a noticeable intrusion if the following things were cut back on/removed from my diet: red meats, dairy products, wheat, potatoes, sugar, caffeine, everything created for human enjoyment.

Machetes & Bees; or How I Came to Drink Good Coffee

coffee2 A coffee farmer shared with me that the most injury prone job picking coffee involves climbing. When one hand is holding the tree and the other a machete--what are you left with to swat the bugs?

Last March I traveled to a coffee plantation in Nicaragua to help run a volunteer medical and dental clinic for the workers, their families, and the villagers. The team set up shop in an open-air church and saw 1,200 patients in a week. Babies with distended bellies from parasites, respiratory infections, decayed teeth, dehydration. Patients lined up. Machete wounds were common. One involved a bee.

I was overwhelmed by the emotion of it--watching some brave person getting teeth pulled, barely betraying their pain. I would walk out to the rainforest and indulge in a good cry. I expected the week to be hard--what surprised me was the joy. Despite the intense emotions, I also laughed harder that week than I could remember doing for a long time. (Sometimes because the very earnest nurses were so bad at Spanish. Also there was a broken toilet seat incident.) It's no secret. Volunteering feeds the soul.

Cherry Sidecar

There are three types of people in this world: those that like cherries, those that like cherry-flavored, and those that like neither (or both, which makes this category 4 I suppose). I’m wedged into the latter but have slowly learned to appreciate the seasonal gift of fresh cherries.

Please don’t get me wrong. There are no agendas, no personal allergic antedotes, nothing of the sort. Growing up fresh cherries weren’t a part of my family menu. To us, cherries were the gloopy, glossy globes that didn’t need a cherry pitter but a can opener. Something tells me that’s not quite the way Mother Nature intended them to be enjoyed but purely an act out of mankind’s thifty desire to preserve their short season.

It’s only been the past few years that I’ve learned to have my way with fresh cherries in the kitchen and that has resulted in a slight cherry crush. I don’t want to eat cherry pie or clafoutis unless you can convince me you made it yourself and please for the love of god keep any fauxcherryanything far away from me. That includes Luden’s.

Still, I can’t help but get a teensy bit excited when I see cherries.

Iced Tea Inspired By Ben Franklin

franklinsfix Handcrafted sips of any kind are my cup of tea. There is a true art behind signature tea blends and craft cocktails that make my taste buds sing. But maybe I'm biased...

Last year, I skipped over to P'unk Ave in Philly for a Junto discussion about The Craft Cocktail. It was a true treat to hear Felicia D'Ambrosio (fabulous Philly food writer and fermentation enthusiast), Mike Welsh (co owner The Franklin Mortgage and Investment Company) and Andrew Auwerda (president Philadelphia Distilling) share thoughts and tales about the resurgence, roots and culture of craft distilling and craft cocktails. By the end of the night I left feeling a bit giddy and excited for my continued journey in the world of the crafted drink.

That evening inspired me to research the man behind the first Junto club in Philadelphia, Mr. Ben Franklin. After a bit of edible exploration, it was clear that Franklin was crazy for cranberries and addicted to apples. His favorite flavors led me to create Franklin's Fix, a blend of ceylon black tea, freshly sliced NY apples, dried cranberries (although I would search for the unsweetened bag next time), and a dab of local PA honey.

Drinking by Color

Like many of my seasonal affectations, I’m always delighted when citrus season rolls around for three main reasons: One: because it means the plump, juicy oranges from my tree will soon be ready and two: meyer meyer meyer meyer meyer meyer lemons, and three: blood oranges. And now that all are here I really don’t know what to do with myself. I’m pretty sure the guys at my farmers’ market are glad I’ve stopped running up to them each week asking the same question over and over again.

Unlike autumnal produce (which always seems so exciting but after about 2 weeks I am ready to move on), I could never ever tire of blood oranges. I wish I had them year round. And here’s where my craziness really kicks in: I enjoy them just as much for their color as their flavor. Correction: even more so, I think. There’s really nothing else like that color. Crimson with hints of sunshine, pink with a touch of vermillion. And the juice? Such an amazing coral and ruby hue, depending on how the light hits it. I’ve been known to juice several oranges and stare at the pitcher for hours in appreciation of that color I hardly see throughout the year. And trust me, I know my colors.

Food, Wine, Good (and Evil) Spirits