Winter stew...

Deep in the midwest, winter is a time of quiet, stillness and snow...winter white and hot food!

The old homestead would not be the same in winter without a pot of stew! The beauty of stew is that is costs very little (about four to five dollars for a family of four) and can even be vegetarian, not by design necessarily, but by what you have in your cupboard. The ingrediants could not be more simple: potatoes, carrots, an onion and a tablespoon of flour. If you want, add a little beef...or my personal favorite: spinach! You will love this served with a little crusty bread....here it is:

Winter stew with or without beef

In a large pot, add your onions and carrots and beef cubes if you wish

Let saute for about 10 minutes on low to medium heat.

Add about 3 cups of water...let simmer again on medium to high.

Add about 5-6 peeled and cut potatoes. Allow to boil...

Add salt and pepper to taste.

Make a roux of your flour and a bit of water....begin to stir into the stew.

Add the spinach at the end and let the entire stew cook on medium for another 20-30 minutes.

It really is delicious!

Now go...watch the snow fall and be still.

Ode to the Onion

Pablo Neruda

I have to share with you the most beautiful poetry of Pablo Neruda, Ode to the Onion. Neruda fans will know it and PovertyFood fans will appreciate it. Neruda himself clearly understood the concept of poverty food.

Enjoy...

Ode To The Onion by Pablo Neruda


Onion,

luminous flask,

your beauty formed

petal by petal,

crystal scales expanded you

and in the secrecy of the dark earth

your belly grew round with dew.

Under the earth

the miracle

happened

and when your clumsy

green stem appeared,

and your leaves were born

like swords

in the garden,

the earth heaped up her power

showing your naked transparency,

and as the remote sea

in lifting the breasts of Aphrodite

duplicating the magnolia,

so did the earth

make you,

onion

clear as a planet

and destined

to shine,

constant constellation,

round rose of water,

upon

the table

of the poor.

You make us cry without hurting us.

I have praised everything that exists,

but to me, onion, you are

more beautiful than a bird

of dazzling feathers,

heavenly globe, platinum goblet,

unmoving dance

of the snowy anemone

and the fragrance of the earth lives

in your crystalline nature.

The distance of food

The question of "what is enough" comes to mind more and more as I live in France. Back home, I have family who live in fabulously large homes and take vacations that are even bigger. Buying food is like a bulk purchase expedition where the smallest of packages would very likely pass for "family size" in France. Believe me, I think the American way is the best and most fruitful in all ways. Except, sometimes, I wonder to what extent we sometimes miss what food really tastes like in the ease of accessing it.

The recent volcanic eruption in Iceland reminded me oddly enough of this. It strangely brought my walk in Spain on the Camino de Santiago back to mind. How easy travel is these days vs walking the earth or travelling by boat. The 100 or so kilometers that I walked in Spain seemed and indeed was very gruelling at times. Confronting the elements, the terrain and my own limitations showed me exactly what the word "distance" meant. It was a strange and almost annoying feeling to have boarded a bus afterward, to go back to where we started to catch the train, and realize that what took us four days on foot, took us about 45 minutes by bus.

I think the same is true for food. That is to say, we forget what it takes to produce food and what consuming food really is about when it comes wrapped in plastic, artificially refrigerated and easily obtained for very little money. Again, that is preferable to struggling and starving and anyone who tells you otherwise are full of garbage. Yet, when was the last time we though about the time it takes to grow a head of lettuce? Or how that rice that only costs about a dollar a box is actually grown?  Or the egg...the humble egg...if one kept hens and cultivated them, fed them, kept them healthy, defended them against the foxes, one might have, I dare say, a bit more respect for the humble egg.

Food, like travelling, it done at top speed these days. A volcano can bring it to a screeching halt and help us to remember the meaning of time, distance and how easy we really have it these days. So, savor and appreciate your food. Take the time to remember where it comes from. How long it takes to grow and be appreciative of how easy it really is to obtain. And grow some yourself, even if just a small planter of herbs on your windowsill. You will feel much more connected and appreciative of what you have. It's a good feeling. Bon appetit!