How About Oatmeal This Morning?

The recent salmonella debacle is disgusting, no doubt, but even more so? The litany of offenses committed throughout the years by Jack DeCoster , the owner of Wright County Egg. (Mr. DeCoster is one of the largest egg producers in the country. Beware). Animal abuse, environmental offenses, and sexual assault of workers? It's kind of amazing that someone has the ability to lead operations to such despicable levels.

A friend of mine did more research on DeCoster and came up with a list of his brands which should be avoided. I thought I'd pass the information on: Lucerne, Albertson, Mountain Dairy, Ralph's, Boomsma's, Sunshine, Hillandale, Trafficanda, Farm Fresh, Shoreland, Lund, Dutch Farms, and Kemps.

Of course, when looking at this list, the question then becomes, who do I buy from? Although many of us believe that buying "cage-free" or "free-range" is the answer, it clearly isn't. The Humane Society has included a wonderful guide on their site to help decode all of the egg jargon. It seems to me that "Certified Organic" and "Animal Welfare Approved" are the labels you'd most want to see. However, as you can tell, there are problems with this, too. It makes sense, then that more and more people are adopting a vegan lifestyle which I applaud. Although I don't think I could go that extreme, I'm quite open to using half a banana instead of an egg the next time I make a cake. (Until this very moment, I had no idea that this was possible. Hooray for animal free options!)

However, I am not going to lie. I've tried a few tofu scramblers and although yummy in their own way, I do not think they compare at all to the taste of fresh eggs. And overall, if the hens (hormone and antibiotic free, of course) are raised in proper conditions with plenty of space and fresh air and a proper diet, I don't have a problem with raising them for the sake of laying eggs. Maybe this has something to do with the fact that as a kid, my sisters and I assisted our parents in raising chickens. In my opinion, the key is that it is done humanely and locally.

So where does a consumer begin? Check it out! Of course, if you want to ensure that hens are being raised humanely, the best option is to actually visit the farm you'd like to patronize and check out the conditions yourself. This may seem impossible to many but look at the resources now available to us. And in general, remember that although a small, local farm doesn't mean immunity to disgraceful tactics, it does most certainly mean a decrease in pollution. Just think about the volume of pollution created by factory farms. Now tack on the exhaust of the big trucks, transporting all of that food your way. (Cough, cough).

Now consider forming a group with neighbors and taking weekend trips (carpooling when possible, of course) to a local farm to stock up on healthy foods. Or maybe you'd rather join a CSA. And if you have children, imagine the wonderful lessons you are promoting by patronizing a local farm or joining a CSA! Not only are you teaching them to think about the origins of their food, you are also showing them how to work toward a common community goal. Also, since fresh farm vegetables are so much tastier than anything canned, they might actually stop fighting you about eating all of their veggies. And finally, in this day and age of rapidly changing technology, it is always nice when people can slow down, remember what's truly important, and thank their local farmer for providing the most basic necessity.

I know life gets crazy. Due to my continual nomadic life, I can't say I'm totally practicing what I preach at the moment. But once I do get settled, I plan to utilize the Local Harvest website and join a CSA. In the meantime, I will continue to patronize my local farmer's market. As for those eggs, I'm having a pretty easy time avoiding them altogether these days. Plus, after you've had the farm fresh kind with those eye popping yellow yolks, going back to the supermarket kind just doesn't cut it.

Oh, and I plan to make some brownies this week. I'll most certainly try that banana trick. Hooray for alternatives!

Here's a Hint: It Could Be Lunch

I was so pleased when New York made this change. (And believe me, you will be quite appalled by the calorie punch of a White Mocha from Starbucks.) But people have a right to know what they are putting into their bodies and at exactly what cost. Now it looks as though providing this information could become a restaurant norm. Hooray!

And if you're still curious about that mocha....

I Meant What I Said and I Said What I Meant

I warned her. I mean, for almost two years, I've been warning my sister. But did she listen? Even though I gave the most faithful advice (100 percent)? No, sirree, she did not.

See, I know a thing or two about kids. I know that from about 18 months until age four, these little beings have the amazing ability to commit the most contradictory acts known to man. Let's take the matter of their attention spans. You present them with the most fantastic set of sticky, glittery, multicolored paints they've ever seen and they will happily immerse themselves in a painting project for approximately 47 seconds before they jump up, announce their sudden displeasure, and run to the next best thing. Yet the shredded, nearly non-existent plastic tampon wrapper they find in your purse will become an object of utter obsession, one that will lead them to grasp tightly in their sweaty little hands, further tear, twist around their fingers, hold up to the light as if a prism, crumple and deposit into an ear, and/or carry around like a new pet for hours and hours on end.

My point is, you never know which way they're going to go.

However, after this very unfortunate experience with a little one I used to care for, I knew that my niece could also very well go down the path of obsession if exposed. So a few months ago when my sister informed me that she had purchased The Sound of Music, I shot her the look of death.

"You...be...careful...with...that," I said, reminding her once again of little Ethan.

"I know, I know," she laughed. "I'm not going to show it to her yet."

Then the other night just as I was wrapping up my babysitting duty, my sister entered the room and said to us, "I have a surprise for you. Actually for both of you."

She led us to the TV and before I knew it, for the first time in her life, my niece was watching the infamous marionette scene while I wondered if this could possibly be the hundredth for me.

And guess what? My little niece sat there, mesmerized. Mouth open. Surprise, surprise. And as soon as it was over?

"Again!" she squealed. I shook my head at my sister and proceeded to bury my head in the couch cushions. When they started a third round, I got up and stomped away. "I'm outta here!"

Yeah, my sister thinks it's fun at the moment. Nostalgic, too. And holy cow, we didn't realize as kids how dashing Christopher Plummer was. Wowee! But she still doesn't realize what she is in for. Luckily, as the auntie that flits in and out, I get to use my whole, "Oh, honey, I'm sorry. Auntie doesn't know how to use this darn DVD thingamajig!" excuse. But my sister? I think even dashing Christopher Plummer might lose his magic. Good luck, sis!

Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes

Last weekend, I went to Home #2, meaning Milwaukee. (And for future reference, Home #3 is Brooklyn). All three homes have the ability to create some pretty major warm fuzzies for me and last weekend was no different. I was able to catch up with several old friends, all of whom told me they were so happy to have me back in Wisconsin which in turn made my heart sorta want to burst. I also felt a great sense of relief knowing that I didn't have to cram all my visiting into a three day block. I could visit again tomorrow if I so desired. Yipee!

In my state of homey bliss, I spent part of Sunday afternoon driving around my old neighborhood haunts. Brady, Prospect, Farwell, Washington, Oakland, past the lakefront. Then I had the urge to drive up Downer Avenue, just a couple of blocks from one of my first apartments. I braced myself for what I already knew (Schwartz has gone out of business!) but I was not at all prepared for the giant structure on the opposite side of the street. No more popcorn cart, that's for sure! There was a bank and some other monstrosity surrounding it. (A parking garage perhaps?) I really didn't want to figure out what it was. I just wanted to get past it as quickly as possible.

So I quickly turned onto Belleview where I was instantaneously tempted to pull over for some custard at Lixx but (gulp), I quickly learned that Lixx was no longer in existence either! Yes, there's something in its place and they may very well still be serving the delicious frozen custard I remember but the fact that it was no longer my Lixx made my heart drop.

So let's get this straight. On this two block stretch, there is no more Coffee Trader (okay, I know it's been years but I have warm memories of that place from my college days, darn it!), no more Chancery (my first date with my sweet college boyfriend), no more Gil's, and no more Schwartz's. Basically, everything I used to walk to in the 90s is now gone.

This got me to thinking of Bill Bryson's book, The Lost Continent. I adore Bryson's writing and this book in particular made me laugh and cry at the same time. After a decade or so in England, he returns home to the Midwest and decides to reacquaint himself with his country through a vast road trip, visiting each of the 50 states. He finds himself grieving about the loss of America (in particular, small town America) which is turning into a stark land of strip malls, gas guzzling automobiles, and parking lots.

I am a lover of most things historical and would be the first one to face off a bulldozer if necessary; however, I also understand our constant evolution and that if Schwartz isn't making it or if the neighborhood deems the parking structure necessary, it might be time to accept those changes. But I guess when you purposely go back to a place for the sake of warm memories, it's hard not to feel offended by the parking garage standing on the site of your first kiss. (No, we didn't kiss in front of the popcorn cart. It's just an example.)

But that's why we have those memories lodged in our brains, isn't it? So we can conjure them up when we need them. So that when we walk into our favorite cozy Alterra and find it in the midst of major construction and expansion, we won't want to cry.

Don't worry, I didn't. Instead, as I gave the cheerful barista my money, I said to myself, "Wow...changes everywhere." And then I sat down with my cup of piping hot, black coffee, slightly taken aback but feeling quite content.

And then I toasted no one in particular: "Onward!"

Gobble, Gobble

So there I was, minding my own business. Yep, I was just sitting there at the kitchen table, working away on my laptop when suddenly, from the corner of my eye, I saw a dark figure outside, lurching toward me. My heart skipped a beat when in that split second, I noticed that there was more than one!

But as I raised my gaze, I realized that these figures weren't three men (very small men) in dark trench coats sauntering down the way to bust in the house and kill me. No, they were actually three big wild turkeys! So I almost killed myself running upstairs to grab my camera and take this picture before they disappeared into the corn. And by the way, I know this isn't any kind of photo to brag about but when I raised the blinds, they sort of started to hightail it. I did my best. Sigh.

I love big cities - I really do - but holy cow, have I missed this stuff!

Here Fishy, Fishy!

Yes, a stable income and a dental plan are great reasons for full-time employment but don't be fooled. There are some awesome advantages to being underemployed and living close to home. Suddenly, I am doing things I've been meaning to do for ages, like trying out new recipes on my parents or making plans to visit Door County again or spending a sunny Thursday afternoon with one of my favorite uncles, drinking beers and shooting an archery course. (Actually, that was reversed. Shooting first, beers later. Don't be alarmed.) And may I please add that I haven't held a bow since high school and I still managed to hit those targets every single time? Who said I wasn't a born and bred Wisconsin girl?

Anyway...

The other thing you get to do when you have such a lifestyle is check out the catfish races at the Greenville Lion's Club 22nd Annual Catfish Extravaganza. (No, I am not making up that name. Look.) European friends, close your mouths right now. And don't worry, you aren't alone. Those New Yorkers and other big city folk are also wondering what the hell I'm talking about. But for all of you who grew up in small town America, or better yet, small town Wisconsin, you're just thinking, Catfish? What about the perch?

All right, maybe that's an exaggeration. This isn't exactly your run of the mill family event in Wisconsin either, I've got to admit. When my sister suggested this as a possible outing, she didn't even let me respond at first. After the initial invitation, she just sighed and said in a defeated tone, "Yeah, I know..." but then went on to say it was a family event that her daughter would probably enjoy. Would I be interested in partaking?

To say that I was hesitant would be a pretty huge understatement. My mouth remained open for a while, too. However, Friday ended up being a lovely day so that evening, we all piled into the car to support the Lion's Club by eating their burgers, cheering my niece down a huge inflatable slide , and later watching the catfish semifinals (we didn't mess around with the preliminary races) which as you can imagine, was over in about 1.5 seconds. But again, this was all going toward charity so who was I to give people crap for placing bets on the ugly, prehistoric looking bottom feeder of their choice? (And I regret to inform that I cannot report which fancy pants catfish won the final round since the burgeoning crowd and nasty mosquitoes drove us off. I hope, dear reader, you are not crushed.)

However, in my opinion, the highlight of the night was when a helicopter appeared out of nowhere and dropped hundreds of ping pong balls for kids to collect and turn in for prizes. It was pretty darn cute to see all of those kids run down a huge, grassy hill to collect their winnings. I think my niece was a bit unnerved by it all but my sister and I couldn't stop laughing. Twenty years ago, did we have any inclination that we'd be spending a Friday night watching catfish races or diving for ping pong balls?

A few years ago, this kind of thing would have driven me mad. I would've been itching to leave by minute twelve. But now, it just made me smile, amused and content. A beautiful summer night, a good cause, a friendly crowd, a niece happier than a clam...if an ugly fish with whiskers can lead to all of that, I'm pretty okay with it.

To My German Friends...

Remember how I went on and on and on about how cheap ice cream was in Berlin (and therefore, had to take advantage of it on a daily basis)? Yeah, I'm telling you, it wasn't all in my mind. Screaming again....

Let Them Eat Well!

About a year ago, I stumbled across an ad, looking for volunteers for the Nourishing Kitchen of NYC. My interest piqued, I did a little research on this non-profit and was blown away by what a young, incredibly ambitious woman had launched in East Harlem. Her idea? To start a soup kitchen of sorts that actually serves healthy food. Forget the highly salted gravy over instant potatoes of yesterday. Not only has Ms. Gina Puzzanghera been serving up delicious, organic meals, she has also been developing programming for people, young and old, inviting them into her kitchen to learn how to cook such healthy meals. I mean, check out her mission statement:

Our mission is to alleviate the strong correlation between low income status and poor dietary health. To do this we provide nutritious meals and educational programming in a safe and caring environment, to anyone who comes seeking nourishment without question and without criticism while providing opportunities for volunteers to give of themselves in service to others. Anyone is welcome regardless of age, sex, race, financial qualifications, or religious beliefs.

Nice.

One of the things that drove me absolutely nutty as a child welfare social worker was hearing my clients rag about the delinquent/hyperactive/fill-in-the-blank-disordered behavior of their child when I would be sitting in their home, watching said child fill up on soda and Cheetos right in front of my eyes. Likewise, I was stunned that during my last physical when I talked about my ongoing fatigue issues, my doc never once questioned my diet. (Hello? Possible food allergy?) Instead, she went straight to a discussion about medication possibilities. Grrr....

I'm not anti-medication by any means but it really amazes me that despite all the recent hype about the food industry, people aren't more concerned about the correlation between food and their physical and psychological health. I remember one (one!) of my former clients who completely revamped her foster child's diet to see how it would affect his "hyperactive" behavior. And ta-da! Amazing how a child that goes from a diet of Skittles and KFC to fruit and baked chicken can actually sit down and do his homework.

Now let's look at the not so warm and fuzzy financial aspect of our nation's less than stellar eating habits. In fact, let's look at those who visit soup kitchens in particular. It's no secret that the poor in America tend to the be the most obese and disease ridden people in our country. Heart disease and diabetes in particular run rampant amongst this group. Now consider what we pay in Medicaid costs to cover such illnesses. Isn't it just common sense to put more time and resources into programs like the Nourishing Kitchen which are trying to create healthier lives and quite frankly, do taxpayers a huge favor in the long run? Anyone else want to scream out loud with me?

Anyway, I'm so very pleased to learn that the Nourishing Kitchen just won a contest, determined by the public's votes, for $25,000! A charity that is socially conscious, health focused, environmentally friendly (did I mention the local gardens they use?), and fiscally responsible?? Oh, NK (do you mind if I call you that?), you are definitely on my top five!

Please, folks, consider volunteering or donating to Ms. Puzzanghera's truly fantastic organization. You can learn more at eatwellnyc.com (look under the "media packet" tab for a really great description of their programming) or at http://thenourishingkitchenofnyc.blogspot.com/.

Happy, healthy eating!

Battle of the Bites

Excuse me, I thought I had returned to summer in Wisconsin, not the rainy season in some bug infested Asian jungle. Yet the swarms of mosquitoes that attack me every time I step outside is making me think that I've indeed stepped into the wrong hemisphere.

Oh, the peace and tranquility of rural Wisconsin. Yes, it makes me want to sit outside on the porch with a book and... Doh! Ack! (slap, slap) Hmpf. I give.

So to you non-natives, let me explain that every summer, Wisconsinites are accustomed to an annoying but relatively short mosquito season. This typically occurs sometime in June, usually when one is trying to throw a graduation party or some other outdoor event to celebrate the fact that we are no longer wearing snow pants. But then the heat of July seems to kill them all (yes, my very scientific reasoning) which allows for two remaining summer months of fun in the sun.

Well, Wisconsin has had record breaking rain the past couple of months which has led to an apparent record breaking number of these miserable, epidermis munching monsters. For the past week, I've tried to play outside with my three-year-old niece only to find myself swatting both of us incessantly and running back inside within ten minutes. She and I seem to have special mosquito lovin' blood since the two inches of skin I miss with the OFF! will be covered with a series of bites (oftentimes symmetrical, how 'bout that?) in about 3.5 seconds. I even tried wearing leggings outside but the darn things managed to penetrate those, too, which has now led to an awesome design of welts amongst the road map of spider veins and bruises throughout my lower half. (I know, I know, très sexy.)

So anyway, now there's the two of us at night, watching Bugs Bunny and scratching our legs til they about bleed. I am clearly not a good example, I realize, as my sister says to her, "Honey, I know it's itchy but try not to scratch" while I sit wallowing in the corner, "When is this misery gonna stop???"

But I am clearly going down a pity partying tangent and that is not my intent. See, I wanted to look into natural mosquito repellents since I am assuming the Cutter's and OFF! we've been dousing ourselves with aren't so good for the ole' environment. I did a quick search and found that mixing an essential oil (such as lemon eucalyptus) with a carrier oil or alcohol is supposed to aid in warding off these little blood sucking demons. As I scanned this article, I assumed they meant rubbing alcohol but interestingly enough, they list vodka as a possibility. Now I'm all about using non-toxic items but I can't help but wonder, if one is in the mosquito infested woods of northern Wisconsin and has a bottle of vodka on him (even if it's Fleischmann's for God's sake), do you really think he's going to use it to coat his limbs?? My guess is that he's much more likely to problem solve another way and allow himself to wake up from his stupor the next morning with a fresh batch of bites while purchasing stock in Calamine.

Regardless, I might give this a shot, perhaps using olive oil as the carrier oil instead. I shall report back. And please, if anyone has had success using non-toxic agents to fight this spawn of Satan, please let me know. In the meantime, I am becoming quite the fan of the screened-in porch. Too bad mosquitoes don't have decent eye sight. I'd like them to see me sticking my tongue out at them.