My Attempt At Lasagna*

I have nostalgia for my mother’s lasagna. Layers of al dente pasta in between a mixture of ricotta, mozzarella, herbs, pesto, chunks of spicy sausage and sauce would bulge from each level, until it was stacked to the top of the baking dish ready for the oven. Hearty, filling, rustic, and delicious, second helpings were always a must and leftovers the next day were something to look forward to. When I moved away from home it was my mission to recreate my mother’s lasagna because I craved to eat something that reminded me of her cooking. So, off to the store I went with a shopping list in hand eager to do just that—recreate the lasagna but only to find myself disappointed with my end result. First and foremost, it was the most unappetizing thing I had ever made. Baked in an oval like dish, the sides weren’t sturdy, it almost appeared runny and well, it didn’t look like my mom’s. Nowhere near perfection I was however rather impressed with the taste, although it didn’t taste like my mother’s. Doesn’t everything always taste better when you mom makes it? I have not attempted to bake another lasagna since although I should try at least one more time. I think however I’ll just wait until I see her again—it will be my first request for dinner!

The Perfect Za

After living in Firenze, Italy my junior year in college, coming back home to BIG American pizza was a harsh reality. Sometimes you just want a wood baked, thin crust pizza all to yourself. Not a pizza topped with fives chesses, thick sliced pepperoni, and a shit load of sauce, BUT RATHER: a tad bit of marinara sauce, prosciutto so thinly sliced you can see through it, topped with a heaping pile of rocket. Or maybe…garlic and spinach with a first light layer of mozzarella…oh so good! There are of course a couple places in the city where you can find the pizzas I’ve described above, but you have to be willing to search for it and more so, have the dough to pay for it. An average pizza price in Firenze cost, 7 Euro ($9 US dollars during the period of time I lived there) while here in Seattle, I’ve forked over $18.00 for a replication of what you’d find in Italia. Needless to say it’s a price worth paying for if it’s done right. Crisp yet sturdy, juicy but not overwhelmingly jumbled with crap, and slightly burnt on the edges where the flames of the fire kissed the za’s edges to make it just perfect. Io voglio una buona pizza!

Creating A New Sisterly Bond*

After reading "The Boy Who Became a Muni Bird", I couldn’t believe how much the brother, sister relationship reminded me of my relationship with my sisters. Though I have never deprived them of food when they were hungry, I have never been able to share food with them off the same utensil. Moreover, I quivered at the thought of sharing food with them that they had already taken a bite of. While some might relate to my paranoia about sharing food off the same utensil or the same bite, I never had a problem doing such things with my parents or close friends. Sipping off the same straw, biting into the same sandwich, or licking off the same spoon wasn’t a problem unless these sips, bites or licks were at the requests of my sisters.
Naturally, my sisters never understand my grossed-out attitude towards them and truth be told, I never could quite explain my fear. I know that they brushed their teeth and our eating habits/manners were all the same since the same parents with high expectations raised us, nevertheless I was some how disturbed by their saliva or their lips touching my food. With the lack of explanation of why I didn’t want to share with my sisters but didn’t mind sharing with my friends or parents, I certainly hurt their feelings. Like the older sister in "The Boy Who Became A Muni Bird", by refusing to let my sisters take a bite of my food, or by deferring their offer for me to take a bite of theirs, I interrupted the social order or sisterly behavior. In the muni bird story, the denial of food by the older sister to her brother, “signals that he quite literally has no ade (sister). Her lack of assistance, denial of obligation and unwillingness to fulfill a role snaps the thread of the social bond”(29) . I acted more sisterly towards strangers and friends than I did to my own kin and for that, I now feel horrible. I denied the bond sisters make with each other because I couldn’t share food with them. Maybe that’s why we’re still not the closet sisters today?
It’s hard to say why my relationship with my twin sisters isn’t as close as other relationships of siblings I know, however I do know that today I can share my food with them, off the same utensil or the same bite. Both my parents have noticed my sharing of food in recent years and I think it actually has made them as happy as it has made my sisters. A bond has been created and it is only getting stronger. Food is never just food, but symbolically expresses relationships with others. Sharing a meal my mother or father has cooked by giving bites and tastes of their food from my plate, to my sisters--captures the family love, joy, and friendship that runs deep within all of us. If Kellie or Allyson is reading this right now, I truly apologize for my past paranoia about sharing food with you and I hope that sometime soon we can nibble off of something delicious together!!

People Are Starting To Get A Clue

I've created a link to the BBC News website, where you can find more recent news on producing food locally on an international scale. Lets hope it starts to catch on. Go UW Farm!

If Life Gives You A Lemon, Make Lemonade*

It’s a shame I cannot travel to Cuba as an American citizen. One day hopefully it will be much easier—or maybe I’ll just marry my dear friend who has EU citizenship, become a member myself, and then travel there. I wish to travel there to make real the classic pictures I so often see in books: the colorful buildings, old cars, relaxed communities, but also because I’ve been recently inspired to see the farmlands, farmer’s markets, and to taste the cuisine. Motivated by Bill McKibben’s “The Cuba Diet” I want to see the transformation—I want to see what each citizen started to do for themselves, their family, their communities and their country. Growing food. Starting from scratch, I find it remarkable that Cubans were able to collectively create an agricultural economy that could support all it’s citizens. “The city grew 300,000 tons of food last year, nearly it’s entire vegetable supply and more than a token amount of its rice and meat”(63). And although the country still remains very poor, many employment opportunities have surfaced as a result of mass farming inside the city, outside in the country, just about everywhere. So are the people happier? Can this be maintained? This maintenance I question comes in two parts: will the efforts and energy from all these farmers continue without getting burnt out (because they do little importing of other foods) and, if Cuba acquires the sufficient amount of fuel to use tractors again, will farmers abandon the current farming techniques to become more industrialized (more, faster, possibly cheaper ways of producing food). Maybe even an international player? Only with time will these questions be answered. Conclusively, I am amazed by the efforts of the Cuban people and their ability to come together not only in small communities but also as an entire nation to push past times of crisis. Hopefully it will not take a severe crisis like the one in Cuba to inspire the rest of the world to start doing the same—collective hands on efforts even on a small scale would cause huge change.
This change that I wish for has recently happened at the University of Washington under the direction of Keith Possee and colleagues. Inspired by McKibben's "The Cuba Diet" Possee and friends have started their own farm, utilizing some of the neglected grounds around campus to provide organic food for the school and for the community (did you know that food grows along the Burke to eat?!) what a fantastic project! The UW Farm (or what some might consider a very large greenhouse) grows a variety of things such as: tomatoes, spinach, lettuce, sweet peas, cabbage, kale, squash and many more, (including a new cranberry bog) all of which are at the hands of students to come harvest for themselves. Maintaining the farm takes a lot of work and a lot of volunteers but Keith's dream is to stabilize the farm to keep constant organic production happening year long. Such efforts like Keith's and those of the Cuban people again, are the efforts which need to be adopted by more and more people to help sustain monoculture growth and food for everyone.

My Relationship with Cereal

Cereal, commonly known as a breakfast food, made it's way into my life when I was just a little girl. There were Cheerios, Rice Krispies, and another cereal in which my sisters and I called, "Mommy's cereal" (although for the life of me I can't remember the actual name); all of which were a good, balanced way to start the morning that my parents approved of. As I got older I veered off and started eating more sugary cereal, but that eventually died off as I entered high school.
Long story short, cereal has become a food I eat morning, noon and night. I enjoy cooking, as my parents religiously prepared meals for us as kids, but as a college student who starts work at 5:30AM and then goes to school, the effort to bake or make a meal sometimes just isn't there. SO... I venture off into my cabinet to grab the cereal box and with a dash of milk later, I curl up on my bed and chow down! I don't think I can say that cereal defines me, however it is apart of my life wherever I am. To me it is my comfort food, something I can eat two or three bowls of without feeling guilty. That in a nut shell is my relationship with cereal. Awww, it's amazing!