All Things Considered host Amy Eddings serves up her take on food, food politics and recipes that have caught her eye.
Remember when I couldn't stand the thought of dropping my coffee habit in favor of more healthy, less caffeinated, tea? Me neither. But I've drunk the (Earl Grey, bergamot-flavored) Kool-Aid.
There used to be a time when the only sticker found on a piece of fruit was the brand label for Chiquita bananas. My siblings and I used to stick them in the middle of our foreheads when we were kids. Now, I could cover my entire face with the number of fruit and veggie stickers I've been encountering this summer.
It occurred to me somewhere in Week One of my detox, as I was peeling yet another mango for my morning fruit-and-rice milk smoothie: Just what else can you do with this delicious, flowery-fragrant fruit, besides pop it in a blender and grind it into a mushy pulp?
Meatballs, macaroni and cheese, and bacon have all had their makeovers in the kitchens of top chefs. It was the humble grilled cheese sandwich's turn this weekend at a community garden fundraiser in Brooklyn.
If there's one thing I've learned since completing my 21-day detox program a week ago, it's that one's mind can become as bloated and overweight and sluggish as one's body. And so I took my mind (and the body it's attached to) to the Metropolitan Museum of Art this morning.
I've kicked the sugar habit for the past 24 days now, as part of a detox that was supposed to last just 21 days. I'm feeling light on my feet and healthy, I've lost seven pounds, my skin and eyes are super clear ... so, why stop? One possible reason: chocolate.
Since giving up decaf coffee 16 days ago, I've found it tough to enjoy coffee shops. The delicious smell of the roasted coffee is a distraction. And it's hard not to feel deprived when looking at a menu board full of coffee options (cappuccino, espresso, americano, red eye, latte), but little to say about tea except "black" and "herbal."
I ate the Southeast Asian tropical fruit the durian today. It was my first and last taste.
I didn't know herring had a season, until I was invited to attend Russ & Daughters' New Catch Holland Herring Festival.
In the afternoons, around 5 P.M., I'm really Jonesing for a cappuccino. Even a decaf one, made with foamy, hot soy milk, in keeping with my detox efforts for 12 more days. But I can't. I must resort to tea.
I got my new juicer yesterday. It's HUGE. I must have gotten the juicer used by the U.S. Olympics Team.
I love coffee. Not for the caffeine -- I've been drinking decaf for several years now -- but because I like the strong taste and the creaminess of coffee with frothy, warmed milk. So, it's been a big drag to have to give it up for my 21-day detox. I've switched, for the time being, to tea.
For the next 21 days, juice will be my breakfast and dinner. It's part of a detox program called Clean that I've taken a shine to. It's given me an excuse to buy a juicer -- it's on its way -- and a new blender for the soups and smoothies I'll be making.
I found a new BFF (best food friend): kale.
Now that I'm giving my body a break from sugar, wheat and dairy, as part of my quest to find a new Zen attitude toward eating, I've had to redefine my breakfasts. Leaving me with ... purslane.
When it comes to my afternoon decaf soy cappuccino habit, I'm a creature of habit. I go to the Starbucks on Spring Street that is one block down the street from WNYC's studios on Varick Street. But it closed several days ago for renovations, and now I'm forced to go to the one that is on Hudson Street.
Artichokes are an Italian kitchen staple and a spring treat, but they scare me half to death. They look forbidding, have sharp little spines on their leaves, and seem to yield very little for all the work that I thought went into preparing them. A tiny (admittedly, yummy) little heart, and lots and lots of tough leaves with a little dollop of flesh at the end that you eat by scraping against your teeth. Really? Are artichokes worth it?
All this talk about the medicinal properties of anise hyssop and calendula has me thinking about the power of food to heal, and to harm.
We talked about pea shoots in this week's edition of Last Chance Foods, and I have to admit, I've never eaten them. And I'm not noticing them at my farmers' market in Fort Greene Park or supermarket. Shauna Reid's suggestion? Grow your own.
In my zeal to try different types of pepper, I bought two big bottles of whole pink and white peppercorns -- the pricey Morton & Bassett kind. I wanted to try red peppercorns, but I figured pink was the same thing. It's not.