was Julia Childs’ sweet memoir ‘My Life in France‘. The book focuses predominantly on her time beginning in France where she and her husband relocated for his work with the American Embassy. There is some reference to her upper-middle class upbringing and how she and Paul met, but mostly she writes about her discovery of food and building a life together. What surprised me was that this was the tenderness with which she writes about her marriage. These were two people who appreciated and cared deeply for one another, and in his love she flourished. Their mutual interests became her passion, and he seemed to delight in her fearlessness; starting a new career in mid-life, going to a traditional French cooking school. If you think the French aren’t scary, go work in a French kitchen.
Her description of her own marriage gives an intimate window into how sweet and satisfying it was, and how two smart people used their intellects and generosity to expand their worlds. I was moved by it. Finding love later in life, taking chances, delving into new worlds and finding improbable success are universally appealing themes, which I am sure is why this book was a hit. She is also surprisingly candid about the last years of Paul’s life. Their age difference caught up with them towards the end. Unable to continue to care for him she ends up placing him in a nursing home where he declines further and further into dementia. I thought about how difficult that must have been for her, to have such an important connection in her life cut in this way. To have a spouse who is alive but no longer able to participate in the marriage. And yet, she kept on with her work, cooking, collaborating.
What the book doesn’t expressly say but exemplifies is that food is more than the sum of its parts. I love food because of the relationships it creates, the ritual of preparation, discovery, the connection to land, and of course the pleasure of eating. Obviously Julia and Paul figured this out too.
Or Whole Foods, Trader Joe’s or Costco for that matter is that no matter how nice the store (and admittedly they are great stores), I find myself let down by the sanitized presentation. There seems to be no trace left of where the food came from. Meat is packaged down to each individual cut to the point that it’s hard to remember the animal at all, and getting produce in plastic boxes and foam trays just doesn’t inspire me.
I want to interact with the person who grew or made the cheese or raised the animal. I feel inspired by the fresh air, the dirt and the people who work to make the food we eat. I would prefer less choices that are all quality than aisles and aisles of things I don’t need. Instead of having the choice to cook anything I now prefer to make dishes around what is in season and abundant locally, and to shop in small stores with people I know helping me. On the economic side it makes sense too. 41 cents for every dollar spent at a locally owned business goes back into the community compared with 14 cents from a national chain, and the average farmer receives 5 cents on the dollar for produce purchased at a grocery store.
This doesn’t mean you will never see me in these stores again, but less and less so. And when the new butcher shop opens up across the street I plan on never buying meat anywhere else again. I have longed for a butcher who could make special cuts for me, source grass fed beef and have real advice on preparation. I can hardly believe one is coming to the Burg.
For me food and community are closely linked and pleasure on the plate is part of knowing the people who made it or carefully selected it.
My dream? An permanent producer market in Fredericksburg like the ones featured in this NY Times slideshow. A place where the best, most conscientious farmers, cheese mongers and more set up daily and give us direct access to fresh foods.
Comes from a dairy in New York. It’s made from raw Pennsylvania milk and has a deep, rich, tangy flavor that is lovely all by itself.
Tumbleweed Cheddar Profiled in SF Chronicle
We serve it at the wine bar on our white wine cheese plate, and I regularly take it home to eat. I also love the Herbal Jack, which tastes exactly how it sounds; sharp with fresh herb flavors. All the cheeses have subtle and distinctive flavors, very much like fine wine. I am of the opinion that a great deal of the flavor comes from the proper use of raw milk and of course the skill of the cheese maker. This cheese would work on a humble turkey sandwich, but I love it on its own at room temperature.
Drink: This cheddar shines with a full-bodied white wine or a mostly dry Riesling with a good acidic back-bone. Try it with the 2005 Keller Sonoma Chardonnay or the Finger Lakes 2007 Standing Stone Riesling. The Riesling will pull out the sweetness in the cream and complement the tang of the cheese. The Chardonnay will highlight the flavors of butter and add to the richness. Either way, you are in for a treat.
I love it on fried eggs, especially the ones Kyle makes at the wine bar brunch. Be sure to close up the bottle and store it in the fridge when not in use, it will turn brown and lose its fresh taste otherwise.
