Food for Thought: School Gardens

As I was refilling the watering pot, I watched the school’s chef walk up the steps to the raised beds, a large metal serving tray in one arm and a pair of cooking-grade scissors in the other. He walked towards the garden bed that had rows of leafy greens, bent over, and began to carefully cut the arugula for that night’s dinner. I turned off the faucet, walked back to the non-edible garden area, and smiled while I watered.

In the last school year, a gardening club (heh) sprouted up at CK’s school. I have been volunteering my Saturday mornings in helping monitor the kids since March, but essentially working alongside them and learning in the process. 

I had found solace there among the raised beds and weeding efforts. I had found validation during the stressful moments of job searching and cover letter writing. It also made me want to try gardening again when I went back to the States.

School gardens, I believe, need to be at every school, private and public, from primary to post-secondary age groups. It was such a phenomenal moment to watch the chef cut the arugula greens knowing the students would enjoy the freshest ingredients for dinner. 

Even at CK’s school, having wholesome and fresh ingredients in their meals are too far and few in between. We’ve made it a big deal to say, “For lunch, this dish was made from various things from the garden.” It brings the kids who are part of the club a lot of pride. More often than not the ingredients tend to be frozen or canned in the kitchen, which isn’t a problem really, but since the garden's creation, school lunches have become more vibrant lately.

I can remember my school lunches with stomach-churning clarity (I’m looking at you, Fairfax County Public Schools). It was crap, it really was. And we continue to feed crap to children in the United States, wondering why there is a growing epidemic of obesity and malnutrition. We continue to medicate children for their overactivity, and yet we keep them inside all day. School gardens, much like the one I’ve been volunteering at for the last couple of months, should be more common.

Imagine: kids from ages 4 to 17 (even at University level) learning about the world around them and where their food comes from; kids contributing to their school lunches, and being willing to try fruits and vegetables they once claimed they’d never eat; kids beautifying their school grounds, learning about leadership, compassion for others, and respect for all; kids relishing the taste of a freshly harvested carrot; kids learning about bees and chickens and worms; kids growing up strong and confident.

Gardening is a huge activity, from weeding to seeding to watering to manning the compost pile. It creates dialogue and pride along with very tangible results.   

School gardens wouldn’t be hard to create. Most of the money, in fact, could be collected through fundraisers and donations. Detentions and free periods could be spent on the various day-to-day gardening activities. Individual classes could be responsible of certain food types or chores, rotating as needed or desired. Schools that struggle with a lack of understanding could grow it along with the seeds, and create a sense of community in the meantime. And even if the amount of food isn't enough to feed a school with over 500 students and faculty, the gardens could feed local shelters. 

Celebrating 100,000+ pageviews with Birthday Cake!

I have an optimistic view of humanity. I believe in our potential. I believe in our ability to create. Above all, I believe in making a difference. Every one of us is capable for greatness, although greatness can seem very mundane and normal. Greatness doesn’t have to always mean fame or glory. Greatness sometimes doesn’t mean recognition either. Sometimes it means being there, for yourself or for another person, at the right place in the right way.

I thought I’d be elated when Meals with Morri hit another stepping-stone to success: one hundred thousand pageviews. It took almost four years, but it happened. I was excited, sure, until I started comparing myself to other gluten free bloggers out there: the ones who are published; the ones who are sponsored; the ones who found voices for their passions; the ones who seemed to stick to their path, so sure of what they wanted and continuing to evolve; and above all, the ones who were widely liked and talked about. Oh yes, the green monster called Envy hit me hard.

I really didn’t have a focus for Meals with Morri, other than seeing what I could make without gluten, soy, or cane sugar. I briefly touched upon having an under-functioning thyroid, some of the new ways I’ve learned to love my body (rock climbing, Insanity, yoga), my travels, a couple of book reviews and one for a product, and I thought about bringing activism into my writing. But for many years I was terrified of causing more harm than good with publishing what I thought, extremely careful in general to have a baseline of niceness and impartiality. Just focus on the food, not the politics, essentially.

Funnily enough, and quite embarrassing, it hit me the hardest when I happened to randomly click on one particular blogger: she's eighteen, a lover of yoga and fitness, cooks gluten free, had her site for less than two years… and she had over 1000 Likes on Facebook. Suddenly, the 100K didn’t seem to compare at all. Never mind that I have had people from all over the world read my blog and perhaps try my recipes. Never mind my personal journey to happiness and evolution. Never mind the Masters Degree. Never mind my ability to create and learn in the kitchen. Never mind the food.

It was politics, pure and simple, a popularity game that I so desperately wanted to win, or at least be a part of. I felt icky for feeling this way, until I realized what was beneath it: I felt like Meals with Morri didn’t matter anymore. And beneath that, I learned that of course it matters because I enjoy it. It matters to me. I connect with and learn about people and places through food. What I was yearning for, truly, was a focus, a niche, a way to really share with others.

While in Malta, I loved the people I worked with and what I did in the office, but I really struggled with living in the culture itself. I struggled with connecting with the Maltese people, and more often than not I spent my time at home after work, on Skype or doing Insanity. I felt like I didn’t belong there, awkward and foreign, simply because I couldn’t figure out how the island worked so that I could be a part of the island’s story. Similarly, I felt disconnected (and still do a little) from Meals with Morri.

 

One of my personal goals for this year is to learn to obtain internal validation. Up until this point, I was at school. It seemed like a pretty cut and paste sort of deal: I knew exactly what I was doing, and who I was. Without school and the unknown looming ahead in 2015, I was terrified. I didn’t know who to ask how I could be successful, and I didn’t know what questions to ask. I nitpicked at my choices, about why I just couldn’t be successful, why I was doing it wrong or wasn’t doing enough to get where I wanted to go. Meals with Morri went under the microscope, and I tore it apart with my fears.

But then I remembered: I didn’t start Meals with Morri for the glory. I started it because I thought it would be a fun way to empower myself in the kitchen and teach others about what I know about my trials and successes. I didn’t know that I would also go down the route of utilizing conflict resolution for food security and agriculture issues, hoping to work with local projects to redesign the cities/towns/neighborhoods they call home in bringing effective, self-efficient change. I was worried that Meals with Morri wasn’t the place for that. I was worried that I would lose that connection with people if I started talking about things that were, to be frank, political. 

What’s the saying? You cannot have your cake and eat it (too), right? It may not work out, but that can be said about a lot of things. I have no idea what this year is going to be like, considering that, at some point, I will have a job (hopefully one that is relevant and the people have similar passions) that will help in making a positive something happen. But I do know that I love food, I love the process and the people behind food, and I love the idea of bridging people together to finally work together along with this big blue marble we call home.

So at this juncture I’m just going to wing it. I’m going to start putting myself out there more, reaching out and trying new ways of connecting with others outside of my circles, network more openly, and to start believing that I can do things without other people validating me or giving me permission. I’m going to have that cake, eat a slice, and share its recipe.

This cake recipe has been part of a number of birthday celebrations for as long as I can remember. It’s one of the first desserts I made by myself, and it’s an easy one to do. The recipe I modified is found on the Hershey’s website, and I have used both King Arthur’s Multi-Purpose GF Flour as well as my choice of flours to make it. I substituted the cane sugar for coconut sugar with great success, and have made the cake in various shapes and sizes without any issue. I have also been able to halve and quarter the recipe depending on the number of people who are going to eat it without any issue.

It is the cake that Mama Dazz always asks for her birthday, and one that non-gluten freers are always happy to share with me. Since it is rather sweet, at least for my taste buds, I usually serve it with a lightly sweetened whipped cream but it would also do well with ice cream, fruit preserves, or a homemade caramel sauce.

I’ve made this recipe as cupcakes, as a thin sheet cake, and as thick round layers on top of each other. It is an incredibly easy and satisfying thing to make for whatever occasion you can think of celebrating, even if it’s to celebrate a quiet weekend at home.  

  

Healthified Chocolate Cake (adapted from Hershey’s recipe)

360 g Coconut palm sugar
126 g. Cocoa powder
1 1/2 tsp. Baking soda
1 1/2 tsp. Cream of tartar (or apple cider vinegar)
2 Eggs
90 ml Olive oil
240 ml Boiling water
140 g Rice flour
70 g Almond flour
1 tsp. Sea salt
240 ml Whole milk
2 tsp. Vanilla extract

Preheat oven to 350°F.
Grease and flour two 9-inch round baking pans.*
Stir together the coconut sugar, flours, cocoa, leavening agents, and salt in a large bowl.
Add the eggs, milk, oil and vanilla, and then beat on medium speed of mixer 2 minutes (or by hand with wooden spoon.
Slowly, and in increments, stir in the boiling water (batter will be thin).
Pour batter into the prepared pans and bake for 30 to 35 minutes or until wooden pick inserted in center comes out clean.
Let the cakes cool for 10 minutes, and remove from pans to wire racks.
Allow them to cool completely before serving.

Makes 12 servings.

*Variations (directly from Hershey’s website):

For one-pan cake: Grease and flour 13x9x2-inch baking pan. Heat oven to 350° F. Pour batter into prepared pan. Bake 35 to 40 minutes. Cool completely. Frost.

For a three-layer cake: Grease and flour three 8-inch round baking pans. Heat oven to 350°F. Pour batter into prepared pans. Bake 30 to 35 minutes. Cool 10 minutes; remove from pans to wire racks. Cool completely. Frost.

For a Bundt cake: Grease and flour 12-cup fluted tube pan. Heat oven to 350°F. Pour batter into prepared pan. Bake 50 to 55 minutes. Cool 15 minutes; remove from pan to wire rack. Cool completely. Frost.

For cupcakes: Line muffin cups (2-1/2 inches in diameter) with paper bake cups. Heat oven to 350°F. Fill cups 2/3 full with batter. Bake 22 to 25 minutes. Cool completely. Frost. About 30 cupcakes.

Starting a Conversation on Wholesome Foods - Oh, and Veggie Burgers

Eating wholesomely and sustainably often comes with a more expensive receipt. To eat organic, local, Fair Trade, and other trigger words regarding food are, unfortunately, left to those with the privilege of an education and a salary you can actually support yourself on. Not everyone can afford to buy highly quality and ethically sound products in every aspect of their lives, which is a shame... because that should be the option each and every time.

I’ll admit that being gluten free can be expensive. The various non-wheat or gluten free flours can put a dent in your paycheck; and then there is a concern as to the carbon footprint of those flours’ transportation to your doorstep. What went into growing, milling, and packaging them? Was someone not paid a wage that can be lived on? Has it further broadened the gap of the have’s and the have-not’s?

Living in Malta is inexpensive in comparison to other places in the developed world, and the majority of my monthly budget goes to food. It opened my eyes to what it means to live locally as well as the implications of what it means to import goods from far away. The other reality is that sometimes local practices are, in fact, not sustainable, depending on what is grown and how. And sometimes, you have to make a decision: is something made locally but unsustainable and environmentally questionable better or worse than to buy something from far away that is by comparison?

The other issue I’ve picked up on healthy living blogs, including my own, is the use of ingredients that people may not be able to find, afford, or even know what they are (this point isn't so bad, only that once you know what they are, you may have to figure out shipping costs). I’ve used nutritional yeast, hemp seeds, chia seeds, quinoa, teff, gluten-free beer, and more without really understanding how I could potentially ostracize and isolate readers because of what I put into my recipes. On the plus side, aiming for wholesome nirvana has educated me in the ways of what is out there, the culture behind the meals, and my desire to share what I’ve found allows me to connect with others all over the world. (I’ve even started a YouTube Channel for that reason.) That includes ingredients I’ve discovered on my travels. That includes recipes that enhanced my experiences while traveling.

As I’ve progressively focused my flexitarianism on whole foods, I’ve begun to really honor making my own recipes for things that is typically bought, such as gluten-free breads, fermented drinks (mead and kombucha), and desserts. Another food that I’ve wanted to get into making are veggie burgers that are both gluten and soy free in a world where what is offered is one or the other, but rarely both. And yes, quite expensive. My goal is to empower people to focus on local and sustainable foods (whole grains and legumes, for example, as well as seasonal foods) that can be cheaply bought and to show you that you can make your favorite foods with them (if you are able to put the time and effort and willingness to experiment). 

This recipe is the start of a hopefully expanding veggie burger list of recipes. I made another veggie burger my first year blogging, and like that one I wish to emphasize that I am not trying to replicate the taste and texture of a meat burger. I would also recommend making small-ish patties by breaking down the mixture into eight pieces. I made them larger (four patties), and while they held together just fine, they were a bit soft and hard to flip because of their size. 

Lemon-Pepper Chickpea Burgers

200 g Dried chickpeas, soaked eight hours to overnight with filtered water and 1 – 2 tsp. baking soda*
1 Green onion, finely diced
1 Green bell pepper, finely diced
1 Garlic clove, finely diced
15 ml Lemon juice
1/2 tsp. Black pepper
1/2 tsp. Sea salt
15 g Flaxseed meal**
15 g Quinoa flour**

Prepare the chickpeas by draining the soaking water and rinsing them from the left over baking soda on the skins.
Add more filtered water into the pot, a pressure cooker if possible, and cook on medium-high heat until the beans are soft (pressure cooker-wise, it will take about 30 minutes).
Drain the water again, and pour the beans back into the pot.
Using a stirring utensil, begin to mash the beans enough that they start breaking down but not enough to turn it into a paste.
Add in the remaining ingredients with the chickpeas, and allow the mixture to sit for fifteen minutes.
Split the mixture into eight equal parts***, and roll them into balls.
On medium-high heat, heat up a sauté pan.
When hot enough, drizzle the bottom with olive oil.
Flatten the balls into patties, and at one or two at a time, cook the patties until brown on the outside and cooked all the way through.
Serve warm with your choice of sides and toppings, either as a burger or on top of a salad or anywhere else you would use a burger for.

Makes 8 patties, or 4 – 8 servings.

* Of the various types of the chickpea species, I used the smaller chickpea species that is extremely creamy and a thinner skin. It is a great chickpea for hummus. The baking soda isn’t mandatory: it breaks down certain aspects of the legume to make it softer when cooked.

** If you cannot come by flaxseed meal or quinoa flour, use what flours you have on hand with the same weight measurement. I happened to have both on hand, and wanted to use grain-free flours.

*** I used olive oil to coat my hands in a way to keep the patties from sticking.

When in Rome, make a Cheese Plate (Part V of V)

This is it: the final cheese plate. It has taken almost two months, but work is picking up at the office, and it feels great to be busy. I would have finished this earlier, but I’m also grieving the loss of my nine-year-old cat Miette. 

It feels strange to lose someone so dear to you while you’re abroad. On one hand, not being in the same place they were in removes the aspect of being constantly reminded that their presence is no longer there. On the other hand, the idea of not seeing her when I visit for the holidays or when I Skype my parents… it’s a blow to the heart, for sure.

A quick eulogy.

Miette had a tender tummy (like me). She struggled to hold food down, and we ended up putting her on a gluten free diet. Our cats have always been given supplements, special kitty litter, and different meal types (wet and dry) from companies that value quality for our four-legged family members as much as we do.

Finding out that Miette had passed while I was abroad brought about similar grieving patterns you would expect: the five stages of grief and loss. Part of me wishes it were a sick joke. Part of me thinks that it was my fault because I wasn’t there for her (or for my other cat, Lilli, who grieved heavily and searched for her for weeks). Part of me is grateful she was loved and taken care of until the end, but also angry with myself and in general. And a huge part of me struggles to fall asleep until after one a.m., even a month later, because we all know where thoughts can go in the darkness of night when you’re grieving.

She was a wonderful and slightly insane cat. She was picky. She insisted on waking people up at four in the morning to turn on the sink for her to drink water. She chaperoned CK’s and my walks around the neighborhood. She was fiercely loyal and she loved with all of her being. And goodness, that sandpaper tongue… She was the perfect model, who posed for photos and always looked at the lens.

She loved the weirdest foods too. She loved coconut milk and tried to eat avocado (they aren’t good for kitties, so stop them immediately when they do). She and Lilli would sneak onto the counters and eat meat or animal fats had been left out.

She was weird. She was obnoxious. She was sweet. She was family. She was part of this awesome dynamic kitty duo that slept with me under the covers. She made having a tender tummy something to bond over and not feel wrong for. She was there for me through heartbreak, through high school, college, and graduate school. She was there when Meals with Morri was created. It feels so bizarre that a lot of things are continuing on and she won’t be there to see it.

The sadness is lessening each day, but I will always miss her and grateful to have had such an amazing friend in my life.
 

During the last week of August, CK and I completed the South Italy cheese plate. Instead of trying to find food and wine pairings, like I had with the previous ones, I decided to make homemade buckwheat crackers and cracked open a cider and beer. The regions were Abruzzo, Apulia, Basilicata, Calabria, Compania, and Molise. One cheese was used to represent Calabria and Compania, since the cheese is found in both.

I apologize in advance for the descriptions to not be particularly descriptive. It’s been a while, and I’ve forgotten individual tastes and flavors. However, like the patterns of the previous regions, this particular region emphasized on mild flavors and semi-hard cheeses, usually pear shaped (which I will get into in a moment), showing that mild doesn’t have to mean tasteless. Almost all are considered pasta filata cheeses with a spicy aftertaste depending on the cheese’s maturation.

From Abruzzo, we tried Pecorino di Farindola Stagionato. It is a slightly piquant, grassy flavored cheese, with a small peppery aftertaste that is just delightful. 

We next tried Pallone di Gravina, a cheese found in both Apulia and Basilicata. A stretched-curd cheese, it’s hung to mature, resulting in the cheese being either pear-shaped or round.

From Basilicata, although this cheese is found throughout the South, we tasted Caciocavello Silano, a D.O.P. cheese. The spiciness comes from the aging process in the cellars along with Sila’s climate. It is rich cream color throughout, but with sporadic holes.

Caciotto represented Calabria and Compania, although I am curious whether or not there is a longer name to it. I recall this one being the most mild of the cheeses, kind if like a young provolone.

Finally, it took me quite a while to find a cheese from Molise, but it was a hidden gem in the form of Caciocavello di Agnone. Another pear-shaped cheese, its production in Molise is recognized and included in the list of traditional Italian food products (PAT). Its origins are also considered to be quite old, and perhaps the cheese with the oldest history we had tried.

This concludes my five-part Italian Cheese Plate Project! Despite trying over twenty different cheeses, this doesn’t even begin to scratch the surface of the many cheeses Italy has brought to the world. There is still a cheese from Sardegna that my Sardinian friend at the office wants me to try, and if any of you can recommend other cheeses from the regions, please let me know! 

I also have another project I want to look into: French butter. I finished a book on Julia Child's exploits in France (also in Germany and Norway) where she raved over how each region had its own butter, consisting of different flavors, textures, and uses.

Luckily, I don’t think CK will mind.

When in Rome, make a Cheese Plate (Part IV of V)

While I didn’t finish writing up the cheese plates by the time I left for Malta to resume my internship, I did hold on to my notes of the cheeses for the remaining two. For both plates, I struggled with pairings, if only because many sites reference wine and cheese pairings and not necessarily food and cheese. I paired the cheeses with mostarda and jam, but it seemed like these cheeses all paired with the tomato sauce the best. Everything else was a mediocre combination.

The other struggle I had was the time limit. I only had a week to finish three, and so the last two were rather rushed. That, and I wanted to spend as much time with CK without the camera lens between us before continuing on with the long distance (LD) status.

And we did.

The fourth cheese plate combines two regions that aren’t near each other whatsoever; they aren’t even connected to Italy’s mainland. The two I’m referring to make up Insular Italy, Sicily (Sicilia) and Sardinia (Sardegna).

As with many of these regions, I didn’t know much about either. They are Italian, but they are also immensely proud of being Sicilian or Sardinian. As they are not connected to the mainland, they are culturally different in many ways. And one of many things that distinguish these two regions is the food culture.

Since they are not connected and nowhere near each other, their cheeses were profoundly different. Both were saltier than any of the cheeses CK and I had tasted so far. We also picked two cheeses for both regions, of which one was represent with a DOP cheese and the other a cheese that happened to be offered in Eataly.

Now… about the wine. I couldn’t find Sardinian wine, sadly, so I chose a Sicilian wine to pair with both. I was rather disappointed with the pairing, to be honest. It didn’t fit with any of the cheeses, and following the cheese plate we realized that it just wasn’t a wine we preferred. It seemed too sour, and equally too pithy, for our liking. The wine we had was a 2011 Irmana Il Nero d'Avola E Il Frappato, from Sicily. Perhaps it was meant to be a table wine for a certain type of dish, but as I said, we just didn’t enjoy it like we had the others.

For Sicilia, we chose Ragusano (DOP) and Secondo Sale. The Ragusano is a dry cheese, but its buttery flavor was a lot like the butter Mama Dazz ordered from the Amish. It had a sour, pungent aftertaste that wasn’t exactly smoky, but reminded me of cooking over an open fire. The Secondo Sale, or “Second Salting”, was sharp and smoky cheese with glorious bits of whole black peppercorns throughout the cheese. It was so buttery, the natural oils beaded on top of the cheese.

For Sardegna, we chose Fiore Sardo (DOP) and RE Priamo*. The Fiore Sardo had also beaded natural oils onto the surface, and while sour, it wasn’t as pungent as the Ragusano. The RE Priamo, or whatever it is actually called, was the softest cheese on the plate as well as the most mild. It was sweet and buttery, but not tasteless, and had notes of tomato.

As mentioned, I really struggled with the pairings, if only because these cheeses were meant to be topped on some homemade tomato sauce. I was a bit discouraged with how it came together, and I’m still flinching over the presentation of the last one, but the cheeses were quite delightful. The lesson here is that I really want to travel to these different regions to taste their cheeses, although Eataly had definitely opened my eyes to what is out there.

* To this day I am still confused about the name of this cheese. Its name was on display as I’ve typed it here, and it says it originates from Sardegna. If anyone knows anything about this cheese, please comment below!

When in Rome, make a Cheese Plate (Part III of V)

After three cheese plates, CK and I started to see patterns. With the first cheese plate, we saw an array of fresh and soft cheeses. With the second, we saw cross-cultural appreciation of creaminess and hints of blue marble. Now, with the third, we saw hardness, aging, and Italy’s best-kept secret food combination.

Northeast Italy is made up of four regions: Emilia-Romagna; Friuli-Venezia Giulia, Trentino-Alto Adige; and Veneto.

This was an interesting cheese plate to create. It was simple, rustic, highly cheese-focused in comparison to the others. It was also the easiest to make (it took longer to pick out a wine than it did finding the cheeses). I was quite proud of the fact that, one, I was able to find all four region’s cheeses and, two, they all have PDO/DOP status. You may also notice that there were only three pairings on the plate along with the cheeses. This is because every cheese could be and was paired with vinegar or honey. The Grana Padano was also eaten with olives, just to be different.

This was also the first cheese plate that the wine went beautifully with all four cheeses and the pairings. The wine was a 2011 Allegrini Palazzo della Torre, from the Veneto region. It is a lovely wine, with a balance in sweetness and fullness that isn’t overpowering and absolutely luscious in between bites of cheese dipped in honey or balsamic vinegar.

From Emilia-Romagna came the fantastic and infamous Parmigiano-Reggiano. It’s a popular cheese here (as in, it completely fills an entire shelf unit in Eataly’s cheese department), and has similar notes to Parmesan or Grana Padano (strong flavors, a great pasta/topping cheese). A sharp cheese with a sweet end-note, it brings a smoky, almost spicy finish to any dish you can think of. CK and I thought the combination of this cheese with the honey was a match made in heaven. This was the secret I was telling you about. Pairing honey with this cheese was something of a cheese nirvana moment for me, sort of like the apple and peanut butter in the dairy world. And we all know how much I love that combination.

Montasio represented Friuli-Venezia Giulia. It’s a very mild cheese with a tantalizingly rounded aroma that reminded us of a mild swiss. This cheese is very similar to Trentino’s Asiago, only less pungent just slightly harder. It went beautifully with both pairings. Alas, I believe I was turned around in taking the photos, as I photographed the Montasio twice… Anyway, Asiago is quite the surprise. It has a similar aroma to Gruyere, only more mild in pungency and spicier.

Finally, Veneto’s Grana Padano, another popular cheese. Like Parmigiano-Reggiano, it had its own shelving unit stock-full of huge wedges. It isn’t a strong as the other cheese, but it does have a sharp quality that is more savory than it was sweet. When paired with honey, the cheese seemed to take on the sweetness as its own flavor, becoming a sort of honey fudge to me. It was delicious and rather rich, but we both felt that the vinegar paired significantly better with it.

I noticed that there was a spectrum to the pairings’ compatibility. We tried the cheeses with both the vinegar and the honey separately, sipping on the wine in between. Two of the cheeses excelled with both pairings equally (Montasio and Asiago), while the other two remained loyal team-vinegar (Grana Padano) or team-honey (Parmigiano-Reggiano) through and through.

So although it wasn’t necessarily the prettiest cheese plate, it was a satisfying one nonetheless.

When in Rome, make a Cheese Plate (Part II of V)

With two cheese plates down, I’ve reflected on national pride. National pride looks different to different people. Sometimes it’s a flag, an ethnic identity, an ideological belief. Sometimes, it’s a standard of living, a way of living, and a job well done.

With Italy, I’ve come to see much of the country’s national pride in the food.

I’m amazed by the cheeses here. Each region, sometimes down to a specific village or town, has a cheese to be proud of. Each region has a heritage, and a responsibility to uphold such a proud lineage of gastronomic proportions. The cheeses, and the wines, tell a story of where they come from, often with something special to remember them by. I will always savor how Mozzarella di Bufala Compana tastes, by itself and with quality balsamic vinegar. I will always appreciate Scamorza affumicata’s smokiness, or how the Northwest Cheese Plate brought with it a new-found appreciation for blue cheeses.

Before I go into describing this cheese plate, I must say that how Europe treats and views food is a breath of fresh air that I hope the United States will completely embody one day. I think we have lost our national pride in foods that goes beyond wines. Sure, we joke about the Midwest deep fat frying everything, or how California is one big vineyard, or New York’s bagels, or Chicago’s deep-dish pizza, or Appalachia being moonshine central, or, in my home state Virginia, the honey-baked ham. We have a history of food beyond the stereotypes, and I think the country has lost that pride with the replacement of factory processing and quantity over quality. We hide where food comes from, mostly because various corporations don’t want us to know. And while I agree in keeping a sanitary production of everything food related, I believe we’ve removed the humanity in what we eat. Almost everything I’ve eaten in Malta, although it is more so in Rome, tells the consumer exactly where it comes from on the label, sometimes down to the individual farm and the address. That’s a 'think global, act local’ mentality that I wish every place in the world included in its national pride, and something I think will be incorporated into my country’s pride in the near future.

Northwest Italy is made up of the following administrative regions: Aosta Valley (Valle d’Aosta); Lombardy (Lombardia); Piedmont (Piemonte); and Liguria. Every region either touches France or Switzerland, so there is likely some cross-national cuisine action going on or an Alpine culture that combines the neighboring regions’ cuisines into something spectacular (for example, the national languages in Valle d’Aosta are Italian and French). But each region is singular and individual, with different species of grapes that become fantastic wines, local languages, and cuisine specialties (Liguria is famed for being the original place of pesto, an important and very popular sauce throughout Italy as a whole).

It was hard to find the cheeses I was hoping to highlight, but with Eataly boldly labeling the regions of where their cheeses came from, I made do with what was there. Liguria was the hardest region to find a cheese, although from my research it seemed like blue goat cheese was something that came from there and so I found Erborinato di Capra as a substitute. We did find a wine that came from the Ligurian region (a DOC to boot), however, so I hope that will make up for it.

Because the cheeses turned out to be primarily pungent, soft, and two of them blue, the pairing suggestions tended to focus on fruits, nuts, and either fruity reds or semi-sweet to dry white wines. The Scamorza affumicata, on the other hand, didn’t feel like a ‘wine’ cheese; rather, it was something to be eaten on its own or being part of a dish where the food, not the wine, was the focus. The wine we purchased was a Durin Pigato DOC Riviera Ligure di Ponente Pigato 2013. It is a dry white, soft and round on the tongue, full-bodied and a distinguished as well as pleasant bitter background. Even though I tend to drink reds, I would recommend this wine to drink by itself or as an accompaniment to any dish with pesto or goat cheese.

Valle d’Aosta is known for Fontina, a cheese with PDO status. In the States, Fontina tends to be milder than what I purchased. The original stuff is quite pungent and intense, and the nectarine we paired it with seemed to lessen its bitterness. The wine paired nicely with it, rounding the sweetness of the nectarine and balancing the intensity of the cheese’s aftertaste. I wasn’t a fan of the cheese by itself, preferring to have the pungency be an accent to a dish instead of being prominent.

While Scamorza is typically known as a cheese produced in the south of Italy, Lombardia is also known for making the cheese. Like mozzarella, it is a pasta filata (or stretched curd) cheese, so it is easy to replace mozzarella with it in recipes. Scamorza affumicata is the smoked version, and one of our go-to cheeses when it’s offered. Although we typically get the pre-packaged kind, Eataly has a mozzarella station neighboring the cheese monger. They were offering fresh scamorza affumicata, so how on earth could we refuse? We tried a small slice before putting on the cheese plate, marveling in how different it tasted from what we usually ate. It had a sourer note, not as salty, but adding sea salt to it balanced the flavors quite nicely (CK also thinks it would have gone well on a bed of spicy Italian arugula, and I agree wholeheartedly).

As I said, Scamorza doesn’t seem to be the cheese plate sort of cheese, in that the cheese can be eaten on its own or as part of a dish, and the dish itself being paired with an appropriate wine. In this case, it was a “take it, or leave it” sort of deal with the white wine.

We picked Blu di Langa to represent Piemonte, and I was excited to try this cheese. Initially, I was hoping to find Castelmagno (a cheese with PDO status), but it was extremely hard to find. But when I saw the cheese through the display window, I thought it would be interesting to have two blue cheeses* to taste the differences. I was also looking for Gorgonzola specifically from that region (or Lombardy), but to no avail. But this cheese was a pleasant surprise, since I’m a bit cautious with blue cheeses in general. If you can imagine Brie that has blue veins, mostly mild and creamy with a little intensity per bite… oh yes, I was in heaven with this cheese. We paired this with golden apple slices, and it was a beautiful combination. I could imagine this cheese being used in a cheesecake, or on a bagel paired with a fig spread.

The wine went deliciously with the cheese, complementing the flavorful blue veins with something sweet and the creamy texture with a fruity sharpness that came with the combination. This was my favorite food, cheese, and wine pairing.

Finally, Eborinato di Capra to represent Liguria, and both CK’s and my favorite cheese on the board. It was milder than the Fontina, buttery and soft. And the blue veins were not bitter; rather, they were slightly sharp and gave you this pleasant surprise of flavor that was just enough without being overwhelming. We tried pairing it with the grapes (meh...), but in all honesty, this was a great “I stand alone” cheese with the possibility of some crunch with a good cracker. It was like that with the wine as well. It didn’t need to be paired with anything. It was heaven in its own right. 

This was a more challenging cheese plate to put together, since many of the cheeses (two of four) had to be picked on the fly, but like the first it was a delight to research the regions and their contributions to their country’s cuisine.


*A note on blue cheese and the gluten free diet:

From Tricia Thompson’s (MS, RD) (2011) “Blue Cheese” article: “In 2009 The Canadian Celiac Association tested 3 blue cheeses and 2 penicillium roqueforti cultures grown on a variety of gluten-containing media, including wheat-based dextrose, barley malt extract, and wheat/rye flour mixture. Results indicate that the gluten content is below the limit of quantification in these products using both the Sandwich R5 ELISA and the Competitive R5 ELISA (29).” For more information on this study, click here.

Now, while tests have been done and have shown that gluten content in blue cheese production is either low enough on both ELISA scales or quite possibly non-existent, I do urge people who are extremely sensitive to such miniscule amounts of gluten to do research and proceed with caution when eating blue cheeses in general. As far as I am aware, the Blu di Langa and the Eborinato di Capra are gluten free cheeses, and were safe for me (in that, I didn’t have a reaction, which tends to come on within a few hours of ingesting non-Morri friendly foods). But please be safe and follow your intuition with foods that are on the fence on such things.

Combining Passions and Kissing Self-Censorship Goodbye

In two weeks I will be celebrating Meals with Morri’s 3rd Anniversary. Three years of recipes, change, and growth under the “delicious, nutritious, and gluten free” banner.

But that’s the thing: it isn’t simply about being a gluten free blogger anymore.

With the start of grad school and deciding to live in Malta to gain experience in the sustainable development field, I’ve noticed, with disdain I might add, how little blogging I’ve actually been doing since, well, life happened. And it’s not that I don’t cook. I do. And it’s not that I don’t have anything to say. I do, and do so quite loudly. But so much change as left me overwhelmed and depressed at times, and the last thing I want to do is resent my passions by feeling obligated.

As the three-year mark looms closer, I realized I’d been censoring myself on this site. Why? Because gods forbid I make someone uncomfortable with what I write. Gods forbid someone among the thousands of readers who read and test my recipes get so upset that they stop reading Meals with Morri forever. All my life, everyone’s opinions of me mattered and I would harshly internalize when I did or said something ‘wrong’.

I promise you, this rant has a point.

I’ve kept my activism and Meals with Morri aspect separate, when in reality it was through blogging during my studies in conflict resolution that kick-started my passions and what I wanted to do with my career. Through blogging, I learned about sustainable development, climate change, responsible agricultural practices, holistic health, public policy, food politics, yoga, rock climbing, positive body image, and more. Suddenly, the idea of bringing food into my conflict resolution practice didn’t seem so ridiculous.

Which brings me back to my self-censorship. At one point early on in my blogging career, I actually went back and softened up certain words or phrases that seemed ‘critical’ (I stopped using the word ‘hate’ at some point). I wasn’t spouting hatred and “I’m right, you’re wrong” nonsense; I was simply offering my critical opinion of where I stood.

So with the three-year mark coming up, I began to ask what I had to show for it. I have almost reached 100,000 pageviews and seen all over the world with 231 blog posts, and am planning new pages that emphasize my passions. I have a series of ideas in how to broaden my horizons (within and outside the MWM boundaries), which includes: foodie videos, getting published on other sites, reflections on activism, and interviews with compassionate individuals in various fields.

Qarabaghli mimli fil-forn (Maltese translation: Stuffed Courgettes; inspired recipe here) 

4 Large marrows (roughly 1 Kg or 2 lbs.)
1 Large red onion
1 Garlic clove
2 Dried Bay leaves
2 Large tomatoes
2 tbsp. Tomato paste
300 g Ricotta*
2 Large eggs**
4 tbsp. Grated Parmesan cheese or Kefalotyri***
Olive oil
Fine grain white corn polenta
Sea salt
Cracked pepper

Preheat the oven to 180°C/350°F, and lightly coat the baking dish with olive oil.
Cut the marrows lengthwise in half and scoop out the insides with a teaspoon.****
On either side of the marrow, coat with the olive oil that was used in lining the dish pan.
Fry the onion, garlic, bay leaves, and tomatoes in some olive oil until soft, followed by the tomato paste to cook for a further few minutes. (Be sure to remove the bay leaves!)
Add in the ricotta and mix thoroughly, allowing it to cool slightly before adding the eggs.
Season to taste preference (although the cheese was salty enough for me).
Fill the marrow halves with the cheese-veggie mixture and then lightly sprinkle with the polenta (roughly 1/4 tsp. per marrow) followed by the grated cheese.
Bake for about 45 minutes until the marrows have softened and the mixture has firmed and slightly browned on top.
Serve hot (although delicious cold) on top of potatoes, rice, beans, or whatever you’re craving.

Makes 8 stuffed marrows. Servings vary depend on meal type.

Vegan Options include: *300 g drained and mashed (although not smooth) cooked black beans; ** 2 Flax eggs; *** 4 tbsp. Nutritional yeast

**** The recipe called for using the pulp, but I found that I really didn’t have the space for it in the recipe. Since this recipe is apparently great with baked MDP’s, I suggest finely chopping the pulp and sauteing it with potatoes along with onion and garlic. Also, to keep the halves upright, I sliced a small sliver from the outside.

Growing a Green Thumb

If there is one thing I’ve learned this year that has forever changed my outlook of things, it is this: Green Thumbs are planted.

Up until Meals with Morri transformed my perception of health and food, I never really sought to answer the question, “Where does our food come from?” We go to the supermarkets and farmers markets, many of us not realizing the time and effort it takes for such things to get onto our plates. Sure, perhaps I had this inkling when I visited Hollin Farms and saw the pumpkins on the vines and the various root vegetables in the ground. But there was this disconnect of understanding the concept of gardening for me, believing farmers (both in the rural and urban sense) and people who could grow herbs on their porch to have this niche I just didn’t inherit. Most of my caring for flora had turned dry and brown and… well, dead. So at an early age, I thought I was a serial killer for all of green-kind.

That changed in college. I kept a couple of plants sporadically throughout my undergraduate studies, mostly the seasonal potted plants from Trader Joe’s. I was able to keep a clover plant alivelonger than I had expected, and it then transitioned to a series of succulents, a spider plant, and then a lavender plant. Except for the clover plant, the first of my Green Thumb experiments, the rest are alive and well based on this crucial secret: the amount of sun, water, and soil type a happy plant makes.

 The year 2012 was a crucial point in my Green Thumb Development. Although I was adamant about having a garden, I didn’t feel confident enough to try; instead, I began reading all I could about the where’s, how’s, why’s, and when’s of food production and gardening. “Sustainable development” was the term I fell in love with and desire to understand all I could to combine certain aspects of food and the conflict resolution discipline. I studied urban farming, vertical gardening, the controversy of GMO politics, food security, hunger, and the “local movement”.

By 2013, Grad School was in full swing and Meals with Morri was put on the back burner in the worst way. For someone to go at it full-time, sacrifices are made on how many hours you work, how often you see friends and family, when you can travel and for how long, and downtime. (And blogging? Forgetaboutit.) I was an emotional wreck during the spring semester, and I was so burnt out by the summer that I didn’t have the energy to do anything. Frustration and anger simmered beneath the surface, with the feeling of hopelessness and total lack of control constantly looking me in the mirror. I began doubting everything, especially my ability and readiness for what awaits me after graduation: Do I have the knowledge to be part of a collaborative process in food security and policy? Will I have a career that I believe in?

At the end of May, what with finals finishing and summer school starting, I took up gardening and the Insanity Workout challenge to deal with the depression that began to form. I meant to talk about both months ago (including said depression), but the more I fell in love with both concepts and the more the situational depression darkened my disposition, the more quiet I became about it. In truth, I was afraid that if I wrote about the processes and failed en route, there would be a documented reminder of those failures for the entire world to see, and thus creating one more reason to be upset. My friends and family knew about both exploits, but I wanted to post the finished products (in other words, the triumphs) on the site.

But I saw both experiments through, and I am extremely proud of myself for that. I finished Insanity after ten weeks (still doing it from time to time, although not as religiously as the 6x weekly schedule), and I started that garden I always wanted. “There are worse things to do during Grad School,” Mama Dazz had said a joke, because when I am set to do something, I do it (and this can be positive and negative, depending on the context).
 
That being said, it all started with dirt.

Correction: It all started with one thousand pounds of dirt.

Mama Dazz gifted me with ten tree planter containers, in the logic that container gardening was easier to manage and you could control the type of soil you worked with. I initially started with small plants ready for transfer (nothing fancy… just Home Depot purchases): two tomato plants, three pepper plants, two garlic cloves (from the store), one cucumber plant, one okra plant, seven sweet potato plants, and a series of herbs that I thought would be good for beginners. I also transplanted my elderberry bush into one, and after it finally assimilated to the outdoors, it began to thrive beautifully.

I used two cinderblocks to plant flowers from packets I bought from MOM’s Organic Market, and a plastic container to grow bell peppers from seeds we got at Trader Joe’s. I also simply planted a whole pumpkin into the ground last fall to see if it would be as successful as the accidental garden I had the year before…  you know, just for giggles.

To reiterate, I didn’t do this to eat what I grew, but to go through the process of tending to different kinds of plants and learning what helps them grow or causes them to fail. Both the cucumber and pumpkin plants didn’t turn out so well. I got one cucumber from the plant early in the summer, but after that the little cucumbers that could were consistently shriveling up. The pumpkin created beautiful leafs and flowers until the white spots formed and the flowers were falling off. The vine showed signs of rot, and thus I gave it (along with my cucumber plant) a proper burial in my compost pile.

The nightshades were the most successful and the easiest to grow. So successful, in fact, that both tomato plants are heavy with fruit and the peppers popular among the pests. 

 

The sweet potatoes were my instant gratification harvest; even though the tubers were relatively small, I still enjoyed pulling them up from the soil and seeing what ninety days in the soil did for their growth.

Gardening gives me a sense of responsibility and control while dealing with stress. It’s a meditation of sorts to go outside in the morning and/or in the late afternoon, turn on the hose and do my rounds (starting with the quince tree I got Mama Dazz, refilling the birdbath, and then watering my garden). I feel empowered that I can work with plants and learn how they succeed and how they perish.

I feel my Green Thumb rooting itself in my consciousness for the future, and that future is currently looking into beets, winter greens, carrots, and radishes for a December harvest.