5@5 is a daily, food-related list from chefs, writers, political pundits, musicians, actors, and all manner of opinionated people from around the globe.
Now that spring is upon us, produce is both good and plenty.
But, as the old adage goes, "all good things must come to an end." (The name's Downer. Debbie Downer.)
That's when Aaron Deal's pickling recipes come in handy.
Five Reasons to Pickle and Preserve Fruits and Vegetables: Aaron Deal
As you continue to weigh the risks and benefits of using your cell phone, in light of the recent World Health Organization announcement that the phones may lead to cancer, consider how scared you are of pickled vegetables, gasoline and magenta dyes.
These are just some of the substances also lumped in the same group of "possible carcinogens," formally known as "group 2B carcinogens" on the WHO's International Agency for Research on Cancer's list of known, likely and maybe-likely suspects.
Happy National Pickle Day! Make Jill's quick pickled peppers or try Chef Linton Hopkins' bread and butter pickles recipe.
The days of fresh produce from local farms are numbered now that fall is fully upon us and winter will soon be whispering at the door. During a recent trip to my local greenmarket, I spied a gorgeous batch of Hungarian - or banana - peppers, and I bought a bunch with the express idea of pickling them for Bloody Marys.
I’m in love with the idea of pickling and canning, the romance of it. I imagine my early pioneer sisters, putting up provisions to sustain the family through the harsh North East winters. It makes me want to install a wood stove in the middle of my Brooklyn apartment, build a floor to ceiling shelving unit of some dark, rough-hewn wood and fill it with canned vittles. But whoops - here I am again in reality and that is not going to happen.
While I was growing up, my mother canned and it was quite an affair. My sister and I were banished from the kitchen for most of the day, and of course, it made us want to be there so badly that we couldn’t resist sneaking in and peeking. There was my mother moving amongst vats of sliced cucumbers and huge steaming pots of boiling water on the stove. Sacks of sugar, pickling spices, vinegar and canning jars littered the counter tops.
In an ideal world, Eatocracy would have a table big enough to seat every one of you around it - breaking bread and sharing stories. Until that day, we can only have a handful of folks to dinner at a time, starting with our inaugural Secret Supper at as-yet-to-be-divulged Atlanta restaurant this Wednesday evening.
Over the next few months, we'll be working with chefs in cities around the US to create menus that will spark conversation about regionally-specific food culture, history and politics - and invite local eaters, farmers, activists and bloggers to join us. We hope we'll get a chance to feast with you in person, but even if we don't, there are still several ways to participate.