This sign inspired the lede of my article. Photo by moi.
My article in this week’s Washington Post Food section opens:
A sign on the door of Best Kitchen Supply on Morse Street NE asks patrons to press a buzzer to get in, but regulars know the truth: The door is rarely locked. Within, they find more insider secrets in the form of kitchen treasures of every kind, their prices as inviting as the open door….
You can read the full article online now and catch it in tomorrow’s print edition.
What a fun process this was–really an excuse to bum around some of my favorite shops in D.C. and pick the minds and hearts of the people in them. I focused on three places: Best Kitchen Supply, A. Litteri, and Afrik International Market. I both hope and worry that these morsels on Morse won’t stay a secret for long.
My reporting, as well as my 11-year history as a shopper of Florida Avenue Market businesses, all come together in this piece, and will be tested by readers in the online chat. Tune in to Free Range on Food on Wednesday, 7/23, at noon. I’ll share the virtual Q&A with, among others, a 10-year-old chef-to-be.
Thanks, as always, for reading!
Filed under Blog, DC, History
I just spent two weeks cooking real food 14 hours a day for 40 acrobats.
You may ask: What do you mean by real food? Or perhaps Who are these acrobats?
The answers are: 1) Food from scratch, with locally sourced produce, dairy, and meat, and nary a processed ingredient in the pantry (thus the long hours); and 2) The participants and teachers of the Acro Revolution Teacher Training in Harrisonburg, Virginia.
The four-person kitchen crew had only met by Facebook prior to our arrival. I came in wondering about a number of variables, including how we would all get along and how my overseeing the vegetarian and vegan offerings would work with the meat dishes.
I didn’t have to worry. Helmed by Chef Josh (second from right), the group gelled quicker than the cream atop our unhomogenized local milk.
The cooks of the Acro Revolution Teacher Training were (from left) Rich, Nina, Josh, and your intrepid author.
We developed a flow, and laughed hysterically at the in-jokes that popped up along the way. Oh, we sure did.
A sign at a D.C. Metro station tells me what to do. By Rhea.
…that’s the title of my final post in a series at The Jew and the Carrot. It sounds dramatic, but to be honest I wasn’t crawling to the finish line. Yes, it surprised me, too! This post includes a few locavore-friendly micro recipes, a look at sustainable food campaigns and apps, and a whole bunch of gratitude.
Check out “How I survived eating in for an entire month” for the whole story.
My second post on my 31 days of eating in is up at The Jew and the Carrot. Check it out.
At the halfway point of my month of eating in, I’ve been thinking about the second-century Jewish scholar Achai ben Josiah. Achai compared someone who buys grain rather than growing their own to an infant whose mother has died and can find no match for her milk.
I don’t grow my own grains, but I can see the allure of spending time preparing them. In fact, this weekend, my boyfriend and I joked that my theme was Constantly-Stirred Grain Dishes. I started off with a golden, slightly firm polenta. The next night, it was a creamy risotto with saffron, lavender, and mushrooms.
I did purchase bulk grains I’ve eaten this month, but I’m still here — and remarkably satisfied. I hope Achai believed in baby steps.
If you need an idea or inspiration for eating in, here’s a recipes for the risotto. (After the jump) Continue reading
Photo by Flickr user mingusmutter
The Jew and the Carrot just published an account of my progress through my food challenge. Check out “Eating in for 31 days.”
Today marks my fourth day into a 31-day challenge to eat in. I have two pieces of good news: First, I survived two days of solid travel without buying any food and second, The Jew and the Carrot will publish my thoughts on the month. More soon!
About the photo: This sign I shot at a D.C. Metro station sums up my 31-day challenge. Sometimes home will have to come with me, though.