Food Over Time by Culinarian Magazine

Culinarian is: Executive Board:

Staff Writers:

Quincy DeYoung (BC’16) Editor-in-Chief Danielle Deiseroth (SEAS’18) Managing Editor Brandon Chin (CC’18) Photo Director Joanne Raptis (BC’16) Art Director Autumn Tian Qiu (BC’17), Roberta Samuel (BC’19) PR Directors Megan Wilcots (CC’18) Events Director

Hannah Berk, Mina Ching, Aimee Cicciello, Ailis Dooner, Shoshana Edelmen, Jessica Gruenstein, Dassi Karp, Jenny Kenny-Pessia, Celine Laruelle, Alexia Le, Sara Mael, Tessa Mellin, Jennifer Nugent, Alexandria Oviatt, Saskia Randle, Isabel Rivero, Katie Russel, Caroline Strauss, Autumn Tian Qiu, Justin Whitehouse, Yuge Xiao, Tanya Zeif

Editors:

Staff Photographers: Brandon Chin Danielle Deiseroth

Zoe Baker-Peng (BC’16) Emma Guida (BC’16) Crystal Lua (CC’19) Andrew Miller (Arts’17) Maya Perry (CC’19) Malaya Sadler (CC’18) Katherine Stein (SEAS’18) Matthew Tsim (CC’16) Lizzy Wolozin (BC’16) Johanna Zwirner (CC’19)

Staff Artists: Sofia Davis Anna Efanova Justine Hu Stephanie Hsu Joanne Raptis

Blog Contributors:

Senior Designer:

Jess Aquino Jordan Brewington Jillian Cardona Danielle Deiseroth Benjamin Howe Farhana Jamal Tanya Zeif

Danielle Deiseroth (SEAS’18)

About Culinarian: Culinarian is a magazine by and for students at Columbia University that discusses the joys of eating and drinking. A semesterly publication, Culinarian aims to be a resource for recipes, restaurant reviews, and thoughtful commentary on the world of food and drink. Not only does Culinarian cover on-campus food life, but it also reaches beyond the borders of campus and into the food capital of New York. Culinarian was founded in September 2012 by Amanda Tien (CC’14) and Manon Cooper (BC’14) whilst they worked together in the Columbia Culinary Society. Culinarian was originally designed to be a publication of the society, but has since become a separate institution. Be sure to check out our brand new website culinarianmagazine.weebly.com, where you can find previous issues and more information. Keep an eye out on our website for our new blog that is coming soon! If you are interested in being a part of Culinarian, please visit our Get Involved page or email us at columbiaculinarymagazine@gmail.com. Don’t forget to like “Culinarian Magazine” on Facebook for updates on blog posts, special events, and more!

Letter from the Editor: Danielle and I barely knew one another when we teamed up as EIC and ME this past fall. Today, we don’t go a week without talking about Culinarian, let alone what new dish we want to try or whose restaurant we’re itching to visit. Culinarian has taken over my time at Barnard/ Columbia and I couldn’t be more thankful for it. I was unbelievably lucky to stumble upon the Culinarian community my freshmen year, which was then just a group of aspiring writers brainstorming in Hamilton, and it’s amazing what we’ve been able to accomplish in just these past four years. Over the past six months, Culinarian has expanded to include a staff of sixty students and organized a range of University-wide events. We hosted The New York Times’ David Tanis and learned how to make provincial garlic soup, we co-hosted the chefs of Korilla and The Cecil with Columbia APAHM for a panel discussion and will soon hear from Lisa Gross, the founder of League of Kitchens, as we celebrate the launch of Food Over Time. Culinarian has changed quite a bit since its inception four years ago. Layout and cover designs have a new aesthetic, we dabble back and forth in the tradition of a ‘semesterly theme’, and unlike years past, the word foodie is on the ‘banned words’ list (thank you, Mark Bittman). However, and this is cheesy (yum!), I think Culinarian is most wonderful for its consistency. Culinarian continues to be a welcoming community for new writers and freshmen, an excuse to eat with new people, and for many of us, the only place we can exercise our passion for food and writing. I’m so happy to announce that we will be printing copies of Culinarian over the next couple weeks, as yes, there is something special about peeling our eyes away from the computer screen and flipping pages. We hope you enjoy the original stories, artwork, photography and editing expertise of our staff this semester. I want to use this opportunity, the last letter from the editor that I may very well ever write, to say thank you to Danielle for single-handedly designing the layout of these past two issues. And of course, a big thank you to Joanne Raptis who created Food Over Time’s cover and led Culinarian’s art team in producing beautiful, original artwork. Last but not least, thanks to Brandon for producing the cover of The Conversation Issue, Megan, for being the best event manager anyone could hope for, and Roberta, for personally creating Culinarian’s new website. Cheers to a great year, and I can’t wait to see what Danielle and Tanya, our next EIC and ME, will come up with next!! With lots of Culinarian love,

Quincy DeYoung, Editor in Chief

Table of Contents:

Features

Reviews

5 If We Are What We Eat, 21 Bluestone Lane Collective Cafe Then We Are the World 7 A Brief History of Sriracha

Recipes

9 American Pie

27 Drinking Chocolate: A History

The Automat

13 Why Sugar-Coat It? 15 The Perceived Value of Seafood 18 Liquid Legends 21 Lights, Camera, Chef 23 Ginger, Spice, and Everything Nice 25 Serving Forward, Looking Back 29 Urban Herbing 29 The First American Dessert 4

if we are what we eat, then we are the world by Tanya Zeif art by Joanne Raptis

most European crops have seeds and to put it bluntly, a less waxy, pasty texture when not boiled or roasted to perfection and consumed sans spices. Nonetheless, the potato crop went on to stave off the cycle of famine plaguing Northern European agriculture (before the potato famines of the 1800s, perhaps the most horrific ecological drama of the time in the West). Perhaps it is ironic, or simply just peculiar, that this Peruvian plant’s presence in Europe fueled Europe’s masses’ departure from poverty but also has its roots, if you will, in violent colonialism.

“If people want to call it fusion, well f**k you. It is fusion. Tell me what food isn’t fusion?” -David Chang to Lucky Peach magazine, 2016 Of all the current food trends that meet our palates, perhaps none is more perplexing than that which we call “fusion”. Fusion, as practiced today, is a crossing of flavors from various lands, such as kitschy ramen burgers and Japanese tacos; clever bites that obliterate culinary borders and seem to bridge separate cultures in a single dish. These innovations, however, veil the hundreds (sometimes thousands) of years of crossings and connections of disparate peoples, of cultural clashes and collaborations that comprise our histories.

These examples of the quotidien fusion that is deeply rooted in many a world cuisine may bring up questions of cultural appropriation; of not only violently colonizing people in many cases, but also co-opting their cuisine and calling it one’s own. While this is often the case, there is still hope that the sharing of food can be a mutually beneficial exchange. This promise lies in one of today’s celebrity whole grains, seen by many as gentrification’s embodiment through both its consumption in American and lucrative growth in the Andes regions of Peru and Bolivia (Some research claims the quinoa has become too expensive for quinoa farmers themselves to eat). Contrary reporting by Slate and NPR purports that the popularity of the grain has largely boosted the Peruvian economy and its farmers. Quinoa’s continued nourishment to its impoverished farmers serves as a powerful example of food’s vulnerability to co-option by the wealthy, Western palates (Sweetgreen’s $12 salads with upwards of 10 ingredients and enough kale to choke a horse, I’m looking at you!), threatening its role in sustaining its dependent native communities. When we are aware of what we eat, our connectedness to other cultures becomes tangible (edible, even) and serves as a reminder that how we consume has a history, as well as a present in which the rest of the world is entangled.

Chang’s brash comment is particularly well suited to French cuisine. Years of eastern trade routes imbued the region with spices from salt and pepper to the garlic that spikes many a French dish. In fact, the first formal collection of French recipes originated in the 1400s, just as these Eastern additions first punctuated the French palate. This sort of fusion is inherent to nearly everything we eat today. The diabetes-inducing levels of the sugar Americans consume hails from Caribbean Islands, but came to Europe via South Asia. Over its journey zigzagging the world, sugar has had charged histories as a royal treat in medieval Europe and a driver of the American slave trade. Similarly, Latin American tubers allowed for the wealth of potato dishes that built the foundation of many European cuisines, from the pomme frite to the mashed potato to the myriad dishes that can be found on most Eastern European or Scandinavian tables. The potato has a past that entangles people of various classes and countries in history’s epic web of edible history. The tuber was cultivated by Andeans, and intrigued Spanish conquistador Francisco Pizarro’s men when they arrived in the region in 1532; so much so that they immediately began sending the newfound potatoes to France and the Netherlands. The potato upset many Europeans upon their first encounter with the bizarrely seedless and largely tasteless tuber, as

“thousands of years of communal history may just rest in a single bite.”

If we are what we eat, then fusion cuisine has the potential to reveal our histories as colonizer and colonized, oppressor and oppressed, Eastern, Western, and everything in between, as well as the thousands of years of communal history that may just rest in a single bite.

SI RACHA, SIRAJA, SRIRACHA, SEE – RAH – CHA:

A BRIEF HISTORY OF SRIRACHA by Saskia Randle art by Sofia Davis

Over ninety years ago in the town of Si Racha, Thailand, the sauce we know today as “Sriracha” made its debut because of a woman named Thanom Chakkapak. The flavor and versatility of the sauce was loved by Chakkapak’s family and friends, and soon she began to sell it commercially under the name of Siraja Panich. Now, over ninety years later, Sriracha is beloved by people in Thailand, the United States, and around the world.

Sriracha vodka, Sriracha ketchup, Sriracha potato chips, Sriracha hummus, and more. Buzzfeed has over forty posts dedicated to topics revolving around the sauce. However, unlike popular conception, the green cap and red rooster is not the original design of Sriracha, and Huy Fong Foods is not the only company that makes Sriracha. According to “Serious Eats,” a website and food blog, which did a blind taste test of different companies’ Srirachas, Tran’s Sriracha may not even be ranked highest in terms of flavor and texture. There are over ten different companies that make Sriracha sauce currently, each with different ingredients, consistencies, and different levels of sweetness and spiciness. Polar Sriracha Chili Sauce, with water as its first ingredient and chillis as its second, is one of the spiciest of the Srirachas and was praised for its fresh, bright, almost tabasco-like flavor. Shark chili sauce contains no thickeners or preservatives, and thus has a thinner consistency than other sauces—however, its balance between sweetness and spiciness evokes the taste of a real chili. The most recognizable Huy Fong rooster sauce begins sweet and ends spicy, but was disregarded for its overpowering garlic flavor. However, Siraja Panich is the original sauce made and coined by Thanom Chakkapak, and is what is consumed in Thailand. However, it is nearly impossible to come across in the United States. It is made using all natural ingredients and aged for at least three months to bring out the natural flavor of the chiles. There are no artificial preservatives or chemicals used in Siraja Panich. Taking all of this into account, one thing becomes clear: there is a Sriracha sauce out there for everyone, but the original Siraja Panich will always be the most authentic.

Sriracha’s flavor comes from five key ingredients: ground red chili peppers, vinegar, garlic powder, salt, and sugar. According to the American Chemical Society, the chemistry of Sriracha is what gives it a spicy and uniquely addictive flavor. The peppers used in Sriracha contain two types of capsaicin molecules that produce a heat-respondent protein. This protein triggers the release of pain-killing molecules, such as endorphins, which also induce the euphoric feelings triggered by exercise. Moreover, Sriracha’s heat comes from a class of dense molecules that remain in one’s mouth, making Sriracha more tolerable than other spicy condiments such as wasabi and hot mustard. These condiments are composed of smaller, light molecules that can waft into the nasal cavity and induce a runny nose or watery eyes.

“there is sriracha sauce out there for everyone, but the original will always be most authentic”

Until thirty-six years ago, when a 70-year-old Vietnamese immigrant named David Tan founded Huy Fong Foods, Sriracha was virtually unknown in the United States. Despite the fact that Tran spent no money on advertising, the sauce, with its green cap and rooster-ornamented bottle, hit the ground running with successful sales and popularity. Sriracha sales reached 20 million bottles and brought in 60 million dollars in 2014. Its fan club continues to grow as sales shoot into the double digits each year. But Tran’s intentions were never profit-guided—he just wanted to find a sauce worthy of his palate and the palate of other Vietnamese immigrants craving extra spice in their Phở. Now, the iconic Sriracha rooster has made its way onto keychains, water bottles, t-shirts, socks, leggings, and earrings. Besides appearing on apparel, Sriracha has also snuck its way into a variety of different foods, beverages, and recipes, including

In the same way that people in Thailand like to spice up just about any of their dishes with Sriracha, in the United States much American food has been infused with Sriracha. The versatility of the sauce has become clear, and has made it the cherished condiment it is. This is owed to everything about Sriracha from its variability--the different brands that use subtly different ingredients, right down to its chemistry.

AMERICAN PIE

AMERICAN INNOVATION AND INDIVIDUALISM THROUGH CULINARY HISTORY by Dassi Karp and Shoshanna Edelman photos by Danielle Deiseroth Notorious for its lack of proper kitchen appliances and abundance of ramen noodles, a college dorm is the last place one would expect to find homemade pies baking in the oven. But, as two college freshmen with a love for baking and a hankering for American History, we were determined to make it work. We pushed our way through the cramped shelves of Westside Market, stocking up on flour and sugar while considering our baking options. We knew we wanted to make a ‘traditionally’ American dish, something with a story and a history. And yet, ‘American food’ brings to mind the greasy wrappers and crumpled bags that star in fast food commercials and litter the backseats of our cars. We knew there must be more to American food than burgers and fries, cheap convenience and instant gratification. To explore the complexity and rich regional history of American baked goods, we decided to bake pies based on various, community-oriented traditions that exist across the United States.

Let it be known that pies are not an American invention. The first recorded pie can be traced back to ancient Egypt during the New Stone Age. These pies were free-form, simple pastries filled with honey and baked over coals. Only after their Egyptian inception did pies spread to Europe, becoming notably popular in England, and acquire fruit or meat fillings. American colonists brought the tradition of pie-making to the New World, where they adapted the recipes to the climate and available crops. As the colonists spread throughout country, they brought their traditions with them. The recipes were refined, and regional variations developed.

APPLE PIE

The first pie we set out to conquer was the most iconic of all American pies, apple pie. After sneaking twelve Granny Smith apples out of Hewitt in cardboard to-go containers and procuring a pie tin from an upperclassman accomplice, we got to work. Like many American favorites, apple pie is not exclusively American. Apple pies were once popular throughout Europe, and apples were brought over to America by Swedish, Dutch, and British immigrants. The only apples previously available in North America were what we know as crab apples, which are too small and bitter to eat. To match the harsh New England winters, Pennsylvania Dutch women developed ‘the apple pie’ as a method of preserving apples so that they could be eaten year-round. Because of their heartiness and appeal, pies were often served with every meal, quickly securing their stronghold in New England tradition. A good apple pie became the standard-bearer for a skilled baker.

PECAN PIE

Next up was pecan pie. Tradition suggests that pecan pie originated in New Orleans when French Colonists were introduced to the naturally-growing pecans in the area by native Algonquians. The French then sought to rework traditional, European pecan treats to suit American crops. This claim, however, is controversial. A corn syrup company asserts that the pecan pie recipe was created and published in a cookbook in a late nineteenth century Texan cookbook for the purpose of increasing corn syrup sales. Either way, pecan pie is certainly iconic of the South; its syrupy nuttiness evoking images of hot summer days and family relaxing on the front porch. We did our best to create the same effect in mid-February in Manhattan. Even with a finicky dorm-room oven and near-freezing temperatures outside, pecan pie is hard to botch and our result tasted fantastic.

KEY LIME PIE

For our final pie, we switched from the sticky sweetness of pecan pie to the gooey tartness of Key Lime. Key Lime Pies have a somewhat mysterious origin. They’re named after the small limes found in the Florida Keys and were rumored to be invented by sailors lost at sea. The original recipe called for canned milk, which doesn’t require refrigeration or cooking because of the thickening reaction between the milk and acidic lime juice. This made it perfect for Florida Keys fishermen who spent long, successive days on their boats. While we were far from fisherman and the Hudson is not quite the Florida Keys, we did our best. We used typical, supermarket limes - not their smaller, more acidic counterparts - and didn’t splatter the whipped topping. At least, not that much.

THE AUTOMAT

A FAST FOOD ORIGIN STORY by Saskia Randle

Edward Hopper, Automat, 1927

Picture a large room with chrome fixtures, marble counters, marble tiled floors, stained glass, carved ceilings, and Art Deco signage. Now picture a wall of that room consisting of arranged compartments, each half a foot wide and half a foot tall with glass doors, wall-to-wall. Behind those glass doors imagine delicate China plates topped with rich pies, pastries, cakes, sandwiches and salads. This is The Automat, a vending-machine-esque fast-food restaurant chain that originated in Pennsylvania in 1902. Automats got their start in New York City in 1912, marking the beginning of fast-food chains in America. Founded by Joseph Horn and Frank Hardart, The Automat chain was once hugely popular, serving 800,000 people per day. 11

Automats were based off the assembly line, as customers assembled their meals in a successive, moving operation. Customers would place nickels into the slot of the compartment with the dish that they wanted, and in a few seconds the glass door would open for the customer to reach into the chamber and claim his or her choice. Automats were loved not only for their food, but for their coffee as well. Between courses diners could indulge in a cup of Horn and Hardart coffee, which was a unique blend of six different types of coffee with added chicory. Always fresh, a cup of this legendary coffee cost just a nickel between 1912 and 1950.

were served and food was forbidden to remain overnight. Even orange juice over two hours old would be disposed. The high cost of fresh ingredients made The Automat unable to price their food competitively when newer chains competed with them, such as McDonald’s and Burger King. Further, as the cost of ingredients grew, The Automat was forced to increase the cost of their nickel-a-cup coffee. Because the machines only accepted nickels or quarters, they could not raise the price to 7 or 8 cents, rather they had to jump to a 10-cent coffee in 1950, which infuriated long-time customers. Although Automats no longer exist in the United States, the concept persists in The Netherlands. Here, traditional Dutch foods such as krokets, frikandellan, and kaassoufflés, can be easily retrieved from behind a small door with the drop of a euro or two. This type of dining, termed the automatiek, is a cross between the Automat restaurant style and the vending machine. The company that operates this automat-style vending machine, FEBO, has almost sixty shops located across the Netherlands, with twenty-two locations in Amsterdam.

Although the word “automat” implies “self-acting,” automats relied heavily on the work of staff. Behind the display compartments of food was a kitchen with chefs, and immediately behind the compartments was a person, who, upon a customer’s removal of the contents of the compartment, would quickly slip another sandwich, salad, piece of pie, or cake into the display chamber. Moreover, there were “nickel throwers” who gave customers the five-cent pieces necessary to operate the food machines in exchange for larger coins and paper money. City workers pressed for time during lunch-breaks frequented The Automat for its strict sanitation, speedy service, and visual display of food options. However, The Automat also welcomed those who wished to linger over their meal and take in the experience. With cheap menu items and no waiters to tip, The Automat was especially appealing for working-class diners. However, The Automat also had an aura of democracy and equality, as children, paupers, and investment bankers alike could share a table, purchasing high quality meals from the nickels and dimes in their pockets. The Automat lost popularity in the 1950s. Consumers grew dissatisfied with cafeteria-style food, large lunches, and many had migrated to the suburbs. Moreover, the fast food restaurants of today, such as McDonald’s, Friendly’s, and Burger King, which began to prop up in the early 1950s, competed with The Automat. Contrary to the common practices of fast food restaurants today, the Horn and Hardart automat used fresh, high quality ingredients. Items were prepared shortly before they

In the United States, while all original Horn and Hardart Automats have disappeared, relics and influences of The Automat remain in the food industry. The democratizing feel of The Automat begins to emerge in restaurants with communal dining tables, where strangers of varying backgrounds eat in close proximity. Moreover, many contemporary fast-food restaurants advertise fresh ingredients, such as B Good and Chipotle, in a similar way to The Automat. Sprinkles, a cupcake shop, has a “Cupcake ATM” that dispenses freshly baked cupcakes and cookies in a vending-machine style, similar to the dispensary technology of The Automat. Finally, in 2006, an attempt to bring back The Automat to New York City was made when a company called “BAMN!” opened a location in East Village. However, this restaurant, which claimed to offer a timeless experience that would take diners back to the vintage prices and hearty comfort food choices of the original Automat, was short-lived, as the restaurant closed soon after opening in 2009. Thus, it seems that The Automat was truly, and only, a restaurant of its time.

Why Sugar-Coat It? THE HISTORY OF ARTIFICIAL SWEETENERS by Celine Laruelle art courtesy of Peter Oumanski It’s a staple of every diner in America: the small, black open-top box placed on one side of a freshly cleaned table, neatly packaged with pale yellow and pink packets of artificial sweeteners. The SplendasTM and Sweet ‘N LowsTM sit, waiting for the next customer to grab a packet and pour it in their coffee. But what really are these tiny crystals? How did their use become so widespread? Saccharin, the first kind of artificial sweetener and now known as Sweet ‘N LowTM, was discovered in 1879. Manufacturers began purchasing saccharin for its low price and relative reliability. Sugar had to be imported from the Caribbean and its price fluctuated heavily, but saccharin could be made in a lab and was thus faster and easier to produce. Its convenience and affordability made it the go-to sugar substitute for producers of Coca-Cola, which was invented in 1889. However, after the turn of the century, there was a public backlash directed at artificial sweeteners once the press unveiled their ubiquitousness in sodas and processed food products. The public largely viewed sugar as natural, even energy-rich, and saccharin as dangerous to one’s health. For this reason, many demanded that saccharin be listed in ingredients lists and artificial sweeteners become a less common additive. However, public opinion of saccharin changed during World War II. Because sugar was strictly rationed, consumers and manufacturers turned to saccharin as a more accessible source of sweetness. Consuming saccharin, as well as other sweeteners that later developed, became patriotic. The consumer was helping the war effort by saving sugar for those who most needed its calories: the soldiers. After the war, “convenience food” surged in popularity. The fifties witnessed the rise of the “T.V. Dinner”, frozen pie crust and a host of other processed foods. Now that the restrictions imposed by the war were over, people wanted to consume to their heart’s content. Convenience was heralded, and spending time in the kitchen was viewed as wasteful. Thus, as approval of processed foods grew, so did the use of artificial sweeteners.

The change in perspective was owed in part to advertising campaigns that painted artificial sweeteners as a healthy choice. Companies such as Kellogg rebranded processed foods with lower calories as nutritionally beneficial, especially for consumers trying to maintain their weight. They used the words “light” and “diet” in their campaigns. However, the question of whether these artificial sweeteners are indeed a healthy alternative remained unanswered. Today, research shows that artificial sweeteners have been proven to cause weight gain and other adverse health effects in rodents, but their effects on humans are still debated. They have helped many lose weight by creating appealing, lower calorie food products, however, some studies show that the chemicals in artificial sweeteners cause cravings for high fat and caloric foods after consumption. Some speculate that this is because the brain senses sweetness in artificial sugar o but the body does not receive the same number of calories it would from real sugar with the same caliber of sweetness. Hence, the brain may send orders to the body to begin the process of digestion, but there’s not as much to digest as the brain had accounted for, which then incites cravings for more calories and fat. The flavor of artificial sweeteners is also much more densely packed than cane sugar. Therefore, it’s possible that receptors for sugar in the brain become more tolerant of sweetness when fed artificial sugars, causing the desire for sweeter foods. Lastly, artificial sweeteners have been linked to a variety of diseases such as cancer, chronic fatigue syndrome, and Parkinson’s disease, as well as ailments caused by obesity, such as hypertension and diabetes. While the connections between these illnesses and sweeteners remain unclear, it is obvious that artificial sweeteners are not nearly as benign or beneficial as food producers may claim.

The Perceived Value of Seafood A FISHY HISTORY by Emma Guida art by Joanne Raptis Per Se, one of New York City’s select three star Michelin restaurants and notorious for its $325 prix fixe menu, received a less-than-positive review in The New York Times this January. Pete Wells, the New York Times food critic, took quite a leap when he called out Per Se for not living up to its so-called “world class” experience. But it seems this leap was justified and long awaited: Wells was greeted with a flood of internet commentary that agreed with his disappointment at Per Se’s food and service. The chorus replied, “Yes! Why hasn’t someone said this sooner?” Patrons perceived Per Se as one of the world’s best restaurants because of its price point and air of prestige, and felt an expectation to embellish their adoration and to dismiss disappointments as anomalies. The Per Se phenomenon is just one example of the way perceived value of food can change over time. A multitude of factors cause changes in the value of certain foods, namely its availability, difficulty of harvest and preparation, skill levels or expense involved in the production process, and of course, branding and marketing. Seafood is another particularly interesting example of this valuation dynamic. Oceanic geography forces seafood costs to rise as one travels inland. Beyond this, however, the value of some seafoods are influenced by more than logistics – and there is a history to this. Take lobsters. They’re infamously expensive, their presence on a menu (outside of the American Northeast coast) indicates a certain class of restaurant, and these shellfish are considered a delicacy. Ordering a lobster is a “treat yourself ” declaration. But it wasn’t always this way. 70 years ago, canned lobster cost 11 cents a pound. Even with inflation, that would only be an astonishing $1.45 per pound. Today, sadly, a 12-pack of canned lobster from Wal-Mart actually costs about $62 per pound. Perhaps even more astonishing, though, is the fact that canned lobster was being produced and sold at all – canning is a production method usually reserved for spam, tuna, and cat food. Go back 300 years earlier, from the Age of Canned Lobster to the 1600s, and lobster was such an abundant food source in the Massachusetts Bay Colony that it was popularly considered food for servants and prisoners. According to the Maine government’s website, the state’s prisoners rioted over being fed lobster too often, and indentured servants in Massachusetts insisted their work contracts stipulate lobster meals no more than three times a week.

The sheer abundance of lobster kept it cheap in the coastal states, and as such it was easily fed the lower class, which brought its reputation downward. Importantly, this association fails to to correlate with lobster’s desirable taste: historical complaints during lobster’s heyday dealt with its excess, not its taste. Today, the idea of people rioting against too much of lobster is both unfathomable and laughable. So what happened?

out from a street cart. Times have changed: oysters were so cheap and popular (a popular deal in the 1800s offered all-you-can-eat oysters, frequently upwards of 2 dozen for 6 cents - around $15 today) that overfishing this seemingly infinite resource began to take its toll, similar to how the increase in demand for lobsters decreased their supply. The extreme water pollution caused by dumping raw sewage into the Hudson River for centuries took its toll on oysters. Oysters are filter feeders: they take in their surrounding water, filter it inside their shells, and then release it, cleaned up and fresh. The New Yorkers in the 19th century who ate so many of these raw oysters, which were filtering toxic water, were exposed by their consumption to a host of diseases. With the advent of germ theory and the realization that the Hudson’s supply of oysters was diminishing, New Yorkers started to cut back. The city’s last oyster bed closed in 1927 (Kurlansky), marking the end of the era of cheap, local New York oysters.

The answer lies in the advent of railroads in the 1850s. Train companies realized that cheap lobster from the East Coast could be served to passengers from middle America who had no exposure to lobster’s low-class reputation. All that these passengers would know is that lobster tasted delicious, and so train provisioners served - and priced - lobster as a rare delicacy, raising companies’ profits against their food expenses. This spelled the beginning of the end for the peasant food that lobster once was. As an increasing number of train passengers sang lobster’s praises, it started to be served in restaurants across the country, and by the 1950s lobster had become the desirable, exotic food item it is today.

Ordering a lobster is a “treat yourself” declaration. this extreme drop in But it wasn’t Predictably, supply transformed oysters, like seafood, into a modern delialways this way. other cacy. The first item on Per Se’s $325

Of course, with the increased presence of lobster in restaurants, demand has gone up. And as anyone who has ever taken an Economics course knows, when demand goes up, supply goes down. And lobster has upheld this principle; a growing demand for consumption has reduced lobster’s availability and population size (and the size of the lobsters themselves: fishermen are forced to catch smaller and younger lobsters to meet quotas), causing a feedback loop wherein the more people want it, the less available it is, making lobster more exclusive and thus more desirable, at which point the cycle repeats. Lobster is not alone - other seafood items fall into this very same feedback loop. The oyster, for one. According to Mark Kurlansky, author of oyster-history bible The Big Oyster, New York City’s population of 2.5 million consumed as many as one million oysters a day in 1898. Oysters, like lobsters, were plentiful enough to be seen as low-class fare, and were mostly consumed in brothels or purchased by-the-dozen after a night

tasting menu is “Oysters and Pearls” (pearl tapioca, New York State oysters, and caviar). The closest available oysters are farmed in upstate New York, and many more from the West Coast, then served at the majority of New York’s high-end restaurants. They commonly sell for upwards of $3 apiece. Oysters, meet lobsters: your fellow expensive treat that doubles as a status symbol. Times have changed. Oysters and lobsters, meet peekytoe crab: the third addition to your exclusive trio. This small, seemingly unassuming crab is native all over the East Coast, but it’s particularly abundant along the southeastern coast of Maine. Peekytoes are a byproduct of lobstering: the crabs attach to lobster traps and were traditionally cast aside by fishing boat workers: peekytoes’ low meatto-shell ratio wasn’t worth the time needed to handle them. Time spent on peekytoes was time unavailable for lobstering.

Peekytoe crab owes its transition to lobster- and oyster-tier delicacy to branding. “Peekytoe” had always been the local name, but chefs elsewhere called it mud crab, sand crab, or rock crab - or just the generic “Maine crab.” Not very inspiring, and not very appetizing.

do almost of all of the work. This painstaking process might explain why peekytoes are so good: the crabs are too small and delicate to be shipped live, so their journeys to the kitchens of New York and homes of Maine are taken with extreme care. The less time spent on raw ice, or in a fishtank, the better.

In the 1990s, one seafood wholesaler in Maine started marketing this delicious crab as “peekytoe” to a few high-profile chefs in New York City (yes, one of them was Per Se’s Thomas Keller), and lo and behold, rockstar status achieved. Peekytoes have risen above other types of Maine crab meat in both expense and prestige, and they’re now a staple menu item on many of New York’s notable high-end restaurants.

So those peekytoe crabs on the menu at Jean Georges, Per Se, or Le Bernardin aren’t just any old crab - they’re the result of of careful branding, and careful preparation by some very innovative lobstermen in Maine. The same goes for oysters and for lobster. These three shellfish - now headliners in the New York culinary scene, each have a unique history with something in common. And while Per Se may fluctuate in quality, service, and reputation, the lobster, oysters, and peekytoe crab it serves will always remain delicious. They demonstrate the significance of perception, a value based upon a constellation of historical factors that has the rare capacity to change a food’s worth, without changing its taste.

One major difference sets the story of the peekytoe crab apart from oysters and lobsters. Peekytoes are available exclusively in New York’s fanciest restaurants, and directly from the homes of Maine’s lobstermen, where their wives meticulously cook the crabs and, by hand, pick apart the meat from the shells. Humans

Liquid Legends by Crystal Lua art by Joanne Raptis

While the word “cocktail”fiffiirst appeared in writing in an 1862 book by Jerry Thomas, accompanied by a host of recipes, it’s surprising that the term may surprise many that ‘‘“cocktail” was once used in reference to horses with their tails cut short. Now cocktails are a dime a dozen, ranging from fruity Tiki-style tipples (think mojitos, daiquiris, margaritas) to stiffer drams like the Manhattan, the Negroni, and the Black Russian. These familiar favorites have survived the decades, even centuries, and continue to fl flFlourish in bars all around the world, even with the arrival of a burgeoning craft cocktail scene. We present you with three forgotten classics and three modern marvels so that you’ll never be stuck ordering a rum and coke at the bar again!

forgotten Classics Sazerac

The spirit-forward concoction originated in New Orleans in the mid-19th century, and isn’t for the faint of heart. Originally made from the Sazerac-de-Forge et fils liquor and incorporating bitters from local apothecarist Antoine Peychaud, this unique drink entails fairly elaborate preparation. It requires an absinthe rinse, crushed ice, and two old-fashioned glasses: one for mixing, one for serving. The cognac-based cocktail survived an absinthe ban in the 1910s, but dwindled in popularity before the Prohibition. As cognac became harder to obtain, rye whiskey became a common substitute— think of the drink as an Old-Fashioned sans ice. Best served with a lemon peel for scent, though the heady whiff of eau de vie is enough to stand alone. This has oft been cited as the oldest American cocktail.

Clover club

Moving northeast from the Big Easy, we find ourselves with this sweet-and-sour Philly signature. The balanced tipple may contain raspberry syrup and boast an appealingly rosy hue, but it’s a gentlemen’s social club drink through-and-through. Named for the rambunctious Clover Club, comprising powerful leaders in their respective fields, the drink gained traction around Philly and New York in the 1910s. It fell out of fashion after the World War 1 and Prohibition era, sadly relegated to the category of “ladies’ drinks”. Yet despite its flamboyant color and foamy head, it’s surprisingly tart and full-bodied.

tom collins

Before the gin and tonic became the go-to juniper-based cocktail, the Tom Collins reigned king. In fact, it was once so ubiquitous, it had its own glassware. Served in what bartenders refer to as a collins glass, the Tom Collins is part of a family of cocktails calling for a dose of simple syrup, lemon juice, soda and any base spirit. The history of the drink is uncertain, but it was initially named the John Collins when it first appeared in a hotel bar in Mayfair, London around the 1800s. Its prime status was cemented when a recipe was printed in the 1869 Steward and Barkeeper’s Manual, which specified Old Tom’s gin—likely where it got its contemporary moniker.

Modern marvels espresso martini

The quintessential contemporary cocktail. With its crisp espresso notes and heady aroma, this ‘martini’ spinoff is served in the same glass, but that’s where the similarities end. Instead, it utilises vodka instead of gin for a cleaner base, and is garnished with three (yes, precisely three) coffee beans. This tipple emerged in London in the 1980s: bartender Dick Bradsell first created the hybrid at the Brasserie Soho, reportedly drawing inspiration from the coffee machine set up next to his drinks station. Recently, bars have been distinguishing themselves by using artisanal coffee as well. It’s been officially recognised as a “New Era” cocktail by the International Bartenders Association, so it’s high time you got yourself this World Cocktail Competition-worthy cuppa joe.

penicillin

Having just passed its tenth-year mark in 2015, this wildly popular cocktail has officially joined the ranks of the modern classics. Deep, complex scotch is balanced by a ginger and honey syrup, accompanied by a float of smokey whiskey. It’s a cocktail straightforward enough to please die-hard whiskey connoisseurs, yet intriguing enough to appeal to most palates. The cocktail was born from an experiment by Australian bartender Sam Ross, while he was working at New York heavy-hitter Milk and Honey. Now, it’s taken on a life of its own, replicated and adapted all over the world. And while Milk and Honey is no longer in operation, its bartenders have gone on to set up a new bar Attaboy, right here in the Lower East Side. Which means, if you’re lucky, you might just get Ross himself to make a Penicillin for you.

benton’s old-fashioned

The quintessential contemporary cocktail. With its crisp espresso This one’s for those who like some nosh with their liquor—bacon, to be specific. The stiff tipple, which is by far the newest on the list, is responsible for introducing the fat-washing technique to bars all around the world. It uses Benton bourbon as its base, infusing it with bacon and adding a touch of maple syrup for sweetness. Talk about a boozy breakfast! Created in 2008 by New York mixologist Don Lee, it’s become the most popular drink at PDT, a hidden bar that regularly tops international bar awards. There’ve been countless copycats, but we suggest you go for the savoury, deeply-satisfying original down by the East Village (hint: look for the bar’s concealed entrance in a late-night hot dog joint).

Bluestone lane collective cafe AN AUSSIE IMPORT SHINES IN THE WEST VILLAGE by Ailis Dooner photos courtesy of Bluestone Lane On an early Sunday morning in late-February, the streets of Greenwich Village are sleepy and cold. However, Bluestone Lane’s Collective Cafe, the Australian brunch and coffee shop on the corner of Greenwich Avenue and Perry Street, is all sunshine. Morning light pours into the cafe’s abundant windows, and within a half hour after opening, the place comes to life: almost every table is filled, and the aroma of Bluestone’s signature “Flagstaff ” coffee saturates the air. Guests are welcomed with bright, minimalist decor; a simple, fresh menu; and a cheerful staff. The West Village is one of Bluestone Lane’s three New York locations, and the cafes are famous for their Insta-worthy espresso art avocado toast.

Avocado toast is a go-to brekkie item in Australia, which has become a staple of many New York brunch and coffee shop menus within the past few years. At Bluestone, the “Brekkie Board” offers the quintessential Aussie breakfast experience. It includes smaller portions of two of Bluestone’s most popular items: the “Avocado Smash” and the “Collective Granola.” The two dishes are served on a single rustic, plate-sized wooden board.

nola”. The brunch menu, which consists of ten items, offers other Aussie-inspired dishes such as “Almond Milk Quinoa Porridge” and “Green Baked Eggs”.

The “Avocado Smash” has a generous heaping of buttery ripe avocado (there appears to be at least three-quarters of an avocado on even the smaller-sized slice of toast!). Unlike many renditions of avocado-toast, avocado takes the center stage rather than the seasoning. The savory toast perfectly complements the subtle tang of the tart raspberries and Greek yogurt in the other component of the “Brekkie Board,” the “Collective Gra-

The cafe also offers their coveted coffee selection on-the-go, for passersby short on time. Bluestone Lane’s casual, upbeat ambiance and fresh, beautiful food can make any winter morning feel like a vibrant day “down under”.

Bluestone Lane is the type of place that’s just as conducive to leisurely sipping a “flat white” (a traditional Australian espresso drink) while reading The Iliad as it is to a more formal Sunday brunch outing with family or friends.

Bluestone Lane Collective Cafe is located at 55 Greenwich Avenue. For more information, visit www.bluestonelaneny.com 22

GINGER, SPICE, AND EVERYTHING NICE

THE HISTORY BEHIND ONE OF THE MOST FAMOUS HOLIDAY TREATS by Alexandria Oviatt art by Justine Hu

Throughout the centuries, gingerbread has Ginger is often considered an essential ingredidescribed various culinary products. Gingerent to gingerbread â&#x20AC;&#x201C; it gave the bread its name, bread originally referred to preserved ginger, after all. However, some food historians debate and some research suggests that these preserwhether or not ginger was included in the vation techniques were taken from the eastern original recipe. Some cookbook compilations Mediterranean and spread by crusaders in the suggest that a scribe accidentally left ginger out 11th century. Slightly later in its history, ginof the antecedent recipe and provide their own gerbread became a much more malleable and estimate of how much should be added. Other sticky substance than modern day gingerbread historians maintain that the treat was made cookies. In fact, it was more dough-like than without ginger and that the scribe was not mismost breads and cookies, with a consistency taken. However, considering that ginger was, similar to Play-Doh. Among other changes and still is, used as a remedy for stomach pains in ingredients, this medieval recipe called for and even the common cold, it is more likely saunders, or sandalwood. The red of sandalthat it was a component. wood was used in order How gingerbread Medieval gingerbread is made to supply the gingerbread a red tint; honey, ginger, by boiling developed from the and breadcrumbs were honey and adding ginger, cinother central ingredients. lucky treats eaten in namon, and white pepper. The sandalwood is then added, as medieval Europe into Today, sandalwood is well as the breadcrumbs to typically a component in the cookies enjoyed thicken the mixture into a stiff fragrances, but red sandough. Unlike gingerbread today is still a bit of a dalwood was often used cookies, the original gingermystery. in medieval cooking as bread recipe did not call for a colorant. It produces a baking. Instead, the dough was red color, made particformed into various animal ularly vibrant by extraction with alcohol. San- and flower shapes and allowed to set. dalwood, however, was not the only spice used for its vivid color. In fact, medieval dishes were The shapes were sold at festivals and fairs and commonly colored with anything from saffron, fascinatingly, gingerbread was even thought to which turned food a fiery yellow, to boiled bring good luck. Women would wish knights blood, which resulted in a much less appetizgood luck in tournaments with the gift of a ing black (for which black pudding, or blood gingerbread man. Some would even eat ginsausages, are named). Unfortunately, in order gerbread men to have luck in finding a husto enjoy such spectacularly hued dishes, a band. How gingerbread developed from the rather large expense was incurred. Spices were lucky treats eaten in medieval Europe into the expensive in medieval times because they were cookies enjoyed today is still a bit of a mysimported from their native regions in Asia and tery. Maybe it was another forgetful scribe Africa. For this reason, only the wealthy were who reinvented the recipe unwittingly, or an able to afford dishes that were intricately arenterprising baker who decided to experiment. ranged and colored. Perhaps weâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ll never know. 24

SERVING FORWARD, LOOKING BACK MFK Fisher and Tangerines by Sara Mael art by Joanne Raptis In 1937, Mary Frances Kennedy Fisher published her first book, Serve it Forth. The set of eloquent, sharply worded personal essays set the tone for Fisher’s 60 plus year career. She wrote about food with such gravitas that reading her essays is a near enlightening experience. With quirky titles such as Consider the Oyster, How to Cook a Wolf, and An Alphabet for Gourmets, Fisher’s books are not just about eating itself but topics such as cooking, relationships, and travel. She mingled with the greats, spending time with the likes of Julia Child and James Beard, as well as glided around the kitchen with ease.

segment is “plump” and “pregnant,” and the experience is “magical.” Fisher is famous for this unique spin she puts on ordinary experiences, which pulls the reader in. A simple description is as close to being offered a seat at her table. No meal is beneath her jurisdiction.

Such is Fisher’s legacy. She introduced the idea of food as art, and the meal as an experience (for further descriptions of meals as luxurious occasions, check out Fisher’s description of fried egg sandwiches). As her story on the tangerine demonstrates, Fisher sought to instill glamour in her meals, even within the tight restrictions of World War II rations that impacted the first MFK Fisher’s writing is witty and intelligent but not few years of her career. condescending. She invites the reader into the kitchen, to the table, and to the French countryside. One of Fisher’s writing is not limited to details of the househer most memorable stories, which appears in Serve it wife’s struggle with food rations in the 1940s, as much Forth, is her “recipe” for eating tangerines: food writing of the era was, rather, Fisher’s tales are relevant to modern life. Today, the current, hurried “In the morning, in the soft sultry chamber, sit in the moment is often spent planning the next one. Fisher’s window peeling tangerines … Peel them gently ... sepa- mantra of savoring a meal, whether it is a five-course rate each plump little pregnant crescent ... Put the pieces gourmet spread or a simple tangerine, can be adaptof tangerine on the paper on the hot radiator [and] for- ed into contemporary, harried schedules. Her flowery get about them ... On the radiator the sections of tanger- prose is a reminder that food is more than just susteines have grown even plumper, hot and full ... I cannot nance; it is nourishing, it brings people together, and it tell you why they are so magical. Perhaps it is that little can spark romance. shell, thin as one layer of enamel on a Chinese bowl, that crackles so tinily, so ultimately under your teeth. Fisher once wrote, “First we eat, then we do everything Or the rush of cold pulp just after it. Or the perfume. I else.” Her eloquent essays and passion for food urge cannot tell.” readers to enter her fantastical world of heightened awareness of every detail, so that they too can ‘first eat’. The most striking aspect of the excerpt is not the words Her words are an invitation for readers to turn their themselves, but the sense of intimacy and romance next meal into a sprawling picnic on a warm, sunny Fisher assigns to the often unremarkable project of eat- day in a quaint village in Provence, even if that quaint ing a tangerine. She is not in a room, but a “soft sultry village in Provence is substituted for Central Park on a chamber.” You must peel the tangerines “gently,” each cloudy day.

drinking chocolate: a history by Jessica Gruenstein photo courtesy of Maria Russo

It was only recently that people began consuming chocolate in solid form . When the Mayans first discovered chocolate around 900 AD, they made it into a ceremonial drink. This drink consisted of crushed cocoa beans, chili peppers, and water. Unlike the hot chocolate known and loved today, its Mayan ancestor was neither warm nor sweet. In fact, chocolate comes from the Mayan word xocolatl, which means â&#x20AC;&#x153;bitter waterâ&#x20AC;?. The Mayans in South America viewed cocoa beans as a food of the gods. They served their bitter chocolate drink at religious ceremonies and marriages. They even made cocoa beans an integral part of their economy. When the Aztec king Montezuma came into power, he made the Mayans pay a cocoa tax. Chocolate came to Europe when Christopher Columbus brought cocoa beans back to Spain. Even then, chocolate mainly appeared in the form of the traditional Mayan drink, and it was not received favorably by the Spanish. It was not until the Industrial Revolution that chocolate evolved into its present form. People realized that sweetening chocolate made it taste incredible.The cocoa grinding machine created a faster and cheaper way to make chocolate, and experimenters realized they could separate cocoa powder from cocoa butter. This discovery resulted in the invention of milk, dark and white chocolate. Soon, culinary experimenters figured out that Mayan bitter drink tasted a lot better when warmed, which gave rise to the modern day hot chocolate.

The following recipe has elements of both the ancient Mayan drink and modern day hot chocolate. Like the Mayans, this recipe contains chili pepper and cinnamon for a little spice. But because most now prefer their chocolate hot and sweetened, honey is included and the finished product is enjoyed heated. Drink up! Mayan Hot Chocolate Adapted from The Sacred Science Serves 1

Method:

Ingredients: 2 tablespoons unsweetened cacao powder 1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon 1/4 teaspoon ground chili pepper 1/8 teaspoon ground nutmeg 1 cup milk, almond milk, or coconut milk 1-2 tablespoons honey, to taste

In a small mixing bowl, stir together the cacao powder, cinnamon, chili pepper, and nutmeg. Add a small amount of the milk (about Âź cup), and whisk into a paste. In a saucepan over medium heat, heat the remaining milk slowly. Change the heat to low just as it starts to boil. Slowly add the chocolate paste to the saucepan and simmer until the mixture is slightly thickened. Add honey to desired sweetness. Pour into a mug and enjoy!

URBAN HERBING photos and article by Andrew Hansen Miller

At early evening, daily, a white hook screwed into my apartment ceiling suspends a basket among deep, nourishing beams of light from the setting sun. In the basket, a plant grows, spreading viney crawlers that coil with equal vigor upwardly and downwardly. I have never seen a plant grow like this. It’s a cucamelon. The name is fun to say in any of its permutations across language and vernacular and, I’m told, it’s fun to eat as well. My stubborn cucamelon, or Melothria Scrabra, hasn’t yet fruited. Against all prevailing advice, I chose to plant my Mexican Sour Gherkin seeds in mid-Fall last year. This vine’s history began with its domestication in Mexico, long before before Old World explorers reached the shores. In Spanish, it’s called sandita (translation: little watermelon). In its natural habitat, it can climb up to 10 feet from roots to tips. I’d estimate this mouse melon plant growing in my apartment at 3 feet, from pot to hook. And I eagerly await its fruit: the grape-sized watermelons-in-miniature are said to taste of sourness and cucumber, to be edible straight from the vine, and to emerge by the dozens. This is what urban herbing is all about.

The creeping cucamelon vines

Folks look at me with surprise when I tell them I’m growing mint varieties like lemon, chocolate, and cotton candy. Folks have dark apartments and busy schedules. To surprised reactions, I explain that mint is a weed, and killing mint takes genuine effort. In gardens across the United States, folks are tearing up bushes of mint that threaten other plants. Mint is renowned for its tenacity, endurance, and fecundity. If mint can overtake a backwoods property upstate, then mint can survive in an NYC bedroom. I would recommend mint as a starter, but the list goes on: the Columbia Greenmarket sells several varieties on Thursdays and Sundays. I encourage window-shopping (and smelling) to set the stage for finding a perfect new plant.

Columbia University Greenmarket, Thursdays and Sundays 8am-4pm, year round (excluding holidays) I grow some plants from seeds, others from starters bought on Amazon. Jagged leaves sprout from my lavender acquired at the Broadway Farmer’s Market and a rosemary from god-knows-where. The fresh air and fresh smells generated by home-grown herbs are wondrous: they stoke appetites, provoke memories, and sharpen senses. Why don’t more people don’t grow plants at home? It’s hard to say for sure. They’re cheap, useful, and relaxing to tend. No amount of forgetful watering can kill the notoriously resilient ZZ plant (frequently cited advice: “the first thing to remember about caring for a ZZ plant is to forget to water it.”); or to nurture a mint I can do little more than breath on it, though it’s receptive to over-watering as well.

Here’s the real problem with urban herbing. Start with a resilient plant; as a beginner, they are best for learning the healthy habits of watering and pruning. A healthy, established mint or ZZ plant quickly becomes a gateway drug. Soon orchids by the half-dozen, discarded on the curb, demand rescue during the walk home (now blossoming, see photo below). 5’ tall majesty palms are being crammed into cabs, and, of course, cucamelon seeds are unpacked, planted, and germinated. And cucamelons grow quick. Garbage-orchids bloom. Raising a majesty palm is, itself, brag-worthy (they’re notoriously fragile in temperate climates). So I find myself fiending for the next big “score”. Asparagus ferns; bonsai; blue borage. The ‘next’ plant is the perfect plant. Repeat.

As you can see, I have a slight problem Even excluding Central Park, plants dominate New York. At Columbia, who doesn’t love the bright, holiday aesthetics of the trees on College Walk? Or the literal league of ivies and manicured hedges relieving the sidewalks and landscaping from Butler to NoCo? Even our dear new roughage-focused Sweetgreen crusades for more plants in our lives. So why not bring a little green into the home?

]_THE_FIRST_] ]_AMERICAN_] ]_DESSERT_] by Katie Russel art by Sofia Davis The engine of our silver Infiniti m35 is humming in the parking lot; my mother has elected to wait outside. She only agreed to stop here out of convenience- “Please, it will only take five minutes Mom,” I persuaded from the back seat. I’m not thinking about the rush to get home anymore; the warmth of the black leather seats vanishes from my mind and body as I step foot into a frigid realm of Pepto Bismol pink and Santorini blue. I’m standing in Baskins-Robbins, the ubiquitous American ice cream franchise (there are over 2,500 locations) famous for its “31 flavors”. When they opened back in 1945, Burt Baskin and Irv Robbins prided themselves on the fact that “a customer could have a different flavor every day of the month”. Today, if all of the franchise’s varieties were lined up in one room, you could have a different flavor for more than two and a half years. Being the gap-toothed 10 year old that I was, I didn’t care about the legacy of Baskin Robbins. I simply loved the little pink sample spoons and the smell of freshly pressed waffle cones. I knew that ice cream was an American tradition and that I was, what some may call, a classic American kid. “One scoop of ‘World Class Chocolate’ and one scoop of ‘Gold Medal Ribbon’ in a cone please,” I said. I forked over my $2.63 and fled. The entire exchange took less than my five minute estimate, as ice cream was the perfect dessert for an on-the-run afternoon.

But has ice cream always been the fast food of desserts? Rewind to 1802. A fleet of horses rumbles down a snow-capped mountainside. It is the eighth fleet today and the 62nd this week. Every wagon in Albemarle County has been leased for this venture, every able driver hired. Their load consists of ice picks and straw, for though it is the end of winter, the drivers are en route to extract ice from the nearby Rivanna River. If they don’t procure the ice now, there will be no frozen foods for their employer come summer. The employer? No other than Thomas Jefferson. After the ice has been extracted, it will be packed in layers of straw - the best insulating technology of the time - and rushed to Monticello, Jefferson’s Virginia plantation. There, it will be unloaded and repacked into his ‘ice house’ with fresh straw and salt. For this one week of labor, Thomas Jefferson will shell out $70, the equivalent of $1320 today. Whereas in the modern era we sprinkle sundaes with edible gold to transform a ‘commonplace dessert’ into a gourmet delicacy (Serendipity 3’s Golden Opulence Sundae), around the time of the founding fathers it was luxurious to have a sundae, or even a single scoop of ice cream. The above illustration of ice harvesting is just one cog in the wheel, one step along the elaborate journey to the creation and prevalence of ice cream in America.

Many months prior to the ice accumulation, Thomas Jefferson would have contracted for the construction of his ice house, the 18th century equivalent of a warehouse freezer. As a man of science, he was very involved in the engineering of the building and passed countless notes onto contractors to ensure the proper elevation, sizing, etc. He also sent for his French maitre d’hotel, Adrien Petit, to employ “honesty and skill in making the dessert” within his Monticello kitchen. Adrien Petit’s journey to America would have taken 2-3 months at that time. When Jefferson himself sailed over in 1789 following his ambassadorship in France, he was documented as bringing 4 ice cream moulds, a ladle, and a sabottiere (special French freezing device) in preparation. After the ice house was settled, Jefferson would have had to acquire the key ingredients: sugar, eggs, cream, vanilla. Though more savory flavours such as parmesan, asparagus, and oyster (a favourite of Dolley Madison) were popular at the time, Jefferson’s favorite flavor was vanilla. Despite being a “basic” flavor today, vanilla was considered exotic at that time. Vanilla beans were scarce in North America, and Jefferson’s appreciation of them most likely harkened back to his influential years in Europe, where they were much more popular in cooking- especially French cooking. He had great difficulty procuring vanilla beans within the States, and may have ordered them directly from France. Even sugar, one of the most accessible ingredients called for, was exceptionally expensive. Once everything was gathered and the ice house was in order, Petit would set to work using the custom 20-step ice cream recipe that he and Jefferson had crafted together in Monticello:

]_JEFFERSON’S_] ]_ICE_CREAM] Adapted by Marie Campbell From the Thomas Jefferson Encyclopedia Ingredients: 2. bottles of good cream. 6. yolks of eggs. 1/2 lb. sugar Method: Beat the yolks of 6 eggs until thick and lemon colored. Add, gradually, 1 cup of sugar and a pinch of salt. Bring to a boil 1 quart of cream and pour slowly on the egg mixture. Put in top of double boiler and when it thickens, remove and strain through a fine sieve into a bowl. When cool add 2 teaspoonfuls of vanilla. Freeze, as usual, with one part of salt to three parts of ice. Place in a mould, pack in ice and salt for several hours. For electric refrigerators, follow usual direction, but stir frequently.14

This is the first American recipe recorded for dessert, and the reason why Thomas Jefferson is often mistakenly credited with the invention of ice cream. The truth of the matter is that ice cream had graced America well before Thomas Jefferson’s return from France, but being such a difficult dessert to create, it was left for special occasions, like elite banquets. Ice cream’s initial role in American culinary culture was that of a modern marvel, as a display of extravagance reserved for the creme de la creme of society. Though Jefferson was known to deeply enjoy agricultural and culinary experimentation- going so far as to state “No occupation is so delightful to me as the culture of the earth” -his pursuit of such pastimes probably initiated from more than pure interest. By serving such intricate, innovative foods at congressional banquets, he was able to bring his status to the plate, literally. When he eventually did take office, it was Jefferson who was responsible for the building of the presidential ice house. Soon after, Jefferson was cited as serving ice cream at numerous White House dinners, where such spending undoubtedly paid off. One representative described it as, “delicious balls of frozen material inclosed [sic] in covers of warm pastry, exhibiting a curious contrast, as if the ice had just been taken from the oven.” Modern historians compare this preparation

of ice cream to Baked Alaska; past guests compared it to magic. Even George Washington held Jefferson’s serving of such sweets in high esteem, utilizing him as an advisor in the building of his own Mount Vernon ice house. It would not be long until every founding father and the Americans that they served, was hooked on the sensory surreal that was ice cream. Through presidential celebrity, Jefferson assisted with the popularization of ice cream. By bringing it into the pinnacle of American democracy- the White Househe transformed a food with a rich European tradition into something America could take ownership of. Adams famously described “Jefferson’s whole eight years [in office] as a levee [banquet]”. Though this may have been concerning to conservatists such as Adams, it clearly impressed the congressmen, townsmen, and families whom ice cream eventually reached. A nineteenth century volume of Godey’s Lady Book (a popular publication among housewives at the time) advised, “A party without ice cream would be like breakfast without bread or a dinner without roast.” Though we may have traded in bread for cereal and roast for chicken over the past 250 years, nothing has subbed in for the sub-zero.

Illustration courtesy of Tom Murray

See You Next Time, Culinarians! 36