Spring 2008

Penn Appetit

spring 2008 | issue 2

Penn Appetit Editor-in-Chief Visual Editor Business Manager Publicity Manager Treasurer Business Staff

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Story Editors

Writers

Photographers

Copy Editors Website Design

Emma Morgenstern Olivia Coffey Clint Cohen Edith Chao Arielle Salomon Courtney Brown Alexandra Leavy John Meadows Susan Luo Lucy Medrich Lauren Rubinfeld Maggie Tishman Michael Chien Alex Marcus Marianne O’Brien Jamie Png Gregory Rollman Bell Athayu Melissa Braff Audrey Farber Jacinda Li Jennifer Green Maura Goldstein Alex Marcus Marianne O’Brien Maria Pellegrini Jamie Png Arvind Raman Maura Goldstein Christine Loui Marianne O’Brien Zhana Sandeva Rachel Stone Edward Zawadzki Alison Wand Marianne O’Brien Calley Levine

Penn Appétit |

Dear Readers and Eaters, The second issue of Penn Appétit is full of energy, photos, and great food! Check out Maura Goldstein’s piece, on pages 8 and 9, about her experience working on an organic farm; or if you want some dessert recipes, look at page 7.

If you want to learn about food that’s healthy or food that’s not, we have some delicious recommendations for both on pages 4 and 5.

So here is Penn Appétit once again—this time a little longer, a tad more colorful. Sit down in a comfy chair with your favorite treat, and enjoy the read.

Emma Morgenstern

Penn Appétit is a magazine for all types of food writing, including food features, restaurant reviews, recipes, creative food writing, interviews, and food narratives. The next issue of Penn Appétit is scheduled to come out in Fall 2008.

Look at our website, www.pennappetit.com, for more information about the magazine. We also have a blog, www.pennappetit.com/blog. The blog is similar in content to the magazine and is updated daily.

www.pennappetit.com

pennappetit@gmail.com

7 & Penn Appétit |

Delights

Leafy Greens

sto ry

by Jac ind aL i | ph oto sb yR ach el S ton e

Healthy

1

- These vegetables contain cancer-preventing carotenoids and lots of calcium, so aim for three servings a day.

Throw pre-washed spinach into almost any dish, and if you want something more unusual, try bok choy, arugula, broccoli rabe, or kale.

Whole Grains - Whole grains have healthy complex carbohydrates. They are packed with fiber, protein, and lots of vitamins. Try oatmeal, whole grain bread, brown rice, quinoa, or whole wheat pasta.

Berries - Berries are rich in fiber, which helps you absorb fewer calories. Berries also have lots of antioxidants, which help optimize your workout. Raspberries, blueberries, and strawberries are great choices; try boysenberries, gooseberries, and black currants for an added twist.

Soy - Soybeans are packed with antioxidants, fiber, and protein. They are also versa-

tile: snack on dry-roasted soybeans, toss shelled edamame in soup, or drink soymilk right in the dining hall. Isolated soy protein doesn’t provide all of the beneficial nutrients of whole soy protein, so choose the latter.

Eggs - With a balance of essential amino acids and necessary fat, eggs are great for achieving and maintaining a healthy weight. Research shows that people who eat eggs in the morning feel less hungry throughout the day than people who eat only complex carbohydrates like toast or a bagel­­—so aim to eat an egg a day!

Almonds - These delicious nuts contain not only protein and fiber, but also

vitamin E, a powerful antioxidant. Almonds are even found to block calories; research suggests the cell wall composition of almonds reduces absorption of all of their fat.

Yogurt - Research shows that calcium helps burn fat, especially around the midsection.

Yogurt contains probiotic bacteria, which regulate digestion to reduce gas, bloating, and constipation. Go for varieties that are unsweetened, low-fat, and contain live active cultures. Add a handful of fresh fruit or nuts for flavor and extra fiber.

Eating more of these seven delicious foods will get you looking and feeling healthier.

Penn Appétit |

Skip the preservatives and processing, and dig into these junk foods done right.

&

Doughnut from Dunkin’ Donuts Sticky Bun at Di Bruno Bros.

Di Bruno’s sticky bun just might be the most decadent food in Philly. They’re served warm, from a tray covered in brown sugary goo. Once you dig in, the sweet, caramelized outside gives way to the doughy center and a ribbon of cinnamon. The bun’s top is overflowing with sticky glaze and dotted with crunchy sliced almonds.

Beats a Strawberry Frosted doughnut any day. 1730 Chestnut Street; (215) 665-9220; $2.99

Tacos from Taco Bell Spicy Chicken Tacos at Latest Dish

Ditch your processed Mexican food for spicy chicken tacos at this South Street hipster hangout. They begin by piling shredded pepper jack cheese inside hard taco shells and toasting them until the cheese is melted and the shells are golden brown. The ground chicken is cooked in a rich, spicy sauce, then topped with scrumptious salsa and guacamole. So don’t just think outside the bun, think outside the food court.

613 S. 4th Street; (215) 629-0565; $7.50

Pleasures

4

Fish Sticks from Commons Fried Baby Anchovies at Amada

Be a little adventurous and order these surprisingly tasty little critters at Philly’s renowned temple of tapas. Step 1: Use your tiny fork to spear a tiny fish from the small plate. Step 2: Dip it in the spicy saffron aioli and the runny yolk from the over-easy egg served on top. Step 3: Enjoy your spicy, salty, crunchy delicacy and never touch dining hall fried cod again.

217-219 Chestnut Street; (215) 625-2450; $8.00

Polly-O String Cheese Salted Fresh Mozzarella at Claudio’s

Something must be good when it has an entire store devoted to it, and that certainly holds for the fresh mozzarella at Claudio’s in the Italian Market.

Claudio’s 1,500-pound mozzarella-making machine pumps out exquisite cheese, so salty and delicate that it melts in your mouth. Grab a container of the bite-sized ovals—they’re guaranteed to make you forget about string cheese.

926 S. 9th Street; (215) 238-0435; $6.99/lb

Upgraded Guilty

story by Alex Marcus | photos by David Knipp, Zhana Sandeva, and Lauren Rubinfeld

Penn Appétit |

Cinnamon: A Spicy History story by Jennifer Green | photo by Rachel Stone

I

’m a cinnamon fiend. I discovered this at Starbucks, when the top of the cinnamon dispenser fell off midsprinkle, sending a storm of aroma into the air and the entire 20 grams into my cappuccino. Cursing myself for my clumsiness, I hazarded a sip—and it tasted amazing. I inhaled one more complex, spicy breath and walked out to class, refreshed.

My obsession has historical roots.

True cinnamon (Cinnamomum zeylanicum), native to Ceylon in Sri Lanka, derives its name from the Arabic term amomon or “fragrant spice plant.” As legend would have it, the Arabs kept the origins of their cinnamon a secret. They marketed it as spice fit for a king and concocted myths to obscure the location of the crops.

Through the centuries, cinnamon kept its sense of mystique. Herodotus III wrote of a Phoenix bird that could be coaxed by gatherers to drop the sacred spice from its nest.

The Ancient Egyptians used it in their embalming process. Some have identified it as an aphrodisiac. Cinnamon’s value rose so high in Roman times that Emperor Nero ordered a year’s supply of cinnamon be burnt after he murdered his wife—as a sign of remorse.

Cinnamon’s high commercial worth resulted in aromatic warfare in the colonial period. In the 17th century, the Dutch seized Ceylon, the world’s largest cinnamon supplier, from the Portuguese, demanding exorbitant quotas of the spice. Control of Ceylon passed down to France,

then to England in 1795. Cinnamon eventually came to mean “my fortune is yours.”

That fortune slowly dissipated.

By 1833, the downfall of the cinnamon monopoly was set into motion by the discovery that it could be easily grown in the Caribbean and other tropical climates.

Today, most commercial cinnamon is a combination of true cinnamon and cassia, a member of the same family but with a stronger flavor.

Both come from the fragrant inner skin of tree bark, but true cinnamon has a warm, delicate flavor, while cassia has

a tang to it. Native to Southeast Asia, cassia cinnamon boasts the strong, spicy-sweet flavor most of us are familiar with.

The harvesting of cinnamon is a time-consuming process. Wild trees require twenty to thirty years of growth before the spice can be collected for the first time. Farmhands

often travel to remote areas for harvest. They carefully remove the upper branches and peel away the inner bark, which curls into large, thick cinnamon sticks, about 18 inches long and 2 inches in diameter. Otherwise, large chunks are removed from the older bark for ground cinnamon, where the bouquet is moist and flavorful.

Farmers aren’t the only ones paying attention to cinnamon these days.

In recent years, scientists have unveiled it as something of a miracle spice. It has long been praised for its nutritional benefits: a single teaspoon contains 28 miligrams of calcium (that’s five times the amount in one teaspoon of milk!), almost one miligram of iron, over a gram of fiber, and the vitamins C, K, and manganese. Recent studies have shown that cinnamon can help manage your weight and reduce the risk of heart disease.

So go out and indulge!

But buy it fresh and store it dark, because powdered cinnamon loses its flavor over time. Try a specialty spice shop such as Penzey’s Spices (8528 Germantown Avenue), which carries over 250 spices and at least four types of cinnamon.

Their website offers an array of savors: “China Cassia Cinnamon: our best seller…with a potent, sweet flavor” or “Ceylon ‘True’ Cinnamon: complex and fragrant, with a citrus overtone and rich buff color” or “Korintje Cassia Cinnamon: sweet and mellow, this is the cinnamon we all remember from our childhood.” Who doesn’t want a comfort spice?

Penn Appétit |

My Mamma’s Apple Crisp

recipe by Maria Pellegrini photo by Christine Loui

This cinnamony, sweet treat is quick and easy to make. It’s the healthy version of my mom’s apple crisp—the original recipe is so bad for you she won’t even give it to me.

Though a healthier version, the following recipe is still a crowd-pleaser.

Biscotti

The Joy of story by Marianne O’Brien

As a pastry-lover, I have found an ideal companion for my morning coffee: biscotti. Not only does biscotti’s firm texture lend itself to dunking, but its crispness makes for a not-too-sweet crunch.

Traditional biscotti are made without butter, thus offering a lighter alternative to the normal American pastry. But if you do like your biscotti with a more cookie-like texture that can do without dunking, opt for a butter recipe.

The unique twice-baked method of biscotti, from which the cookie derives its Italian name (bis meaning twice and cotto meaning baked), offers an adventurous twist for the novice baker. This spring break, with the house to myself and limited ingredients, I set out on a biscotti baking binge. It turns out that biscotti are relatively easy to make. Even my hypercritical chef mom was impressed with the results.

Biscotti can be enjoyed at any time of the day, and can be dunked in coffee, tea, hot cocoa, or even sweet wine (as originally inteded). They keep well and make a perfect gift.

Ingredients: 8 tart and firm apples (McIntosh work well) ⅔ c. brown sugar 1 tsp. cinnamon ½ tsp. powdered ginger 1 ¾ c. flour ¾ c. sugar ½ c. (1 stick) unsalted butter ½ c. nuts (optional)

Directions: Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Core the apples and chop into large pieces. Mix them with the brown sugar, cinnamon, and ginger.

Mix the remaining ingredients in a separate bowl, preferably with your hands, until crumbly. Put the apple mixture in a 9x13 pan and crumble the crisp over the top. Bake on middle shelf of the oven for 40 minutes.

Dark Chocolate-Dipped Almond Biscotti

recipe and photo

by Marianne O’Brien

Feel free to make a few batches and experiment wih mix-ins: use dried fruit, seeds, other nuts, or chocolate. After all, it never hurts to have biscotti lying around. But since biscotti are baked twice, be wary about time; baking can take up most of an afternoon.

Ingredients: 1 c. almonds 2 c. all-purpose flour ¾ c. granulated white sugar 1 tsp. baking powder 1 tsp. cinnamon ½ tsp. salt 3 large eggs 1½ tsp. pure vanilla extract 1 tbsp. of orange zest 1 egg white, lightly beaten 6 oz. dark chocolate, chopped Directions: Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Toast nuts on a baking sheet in the oven for 10 minutes, until fragrant. Let cool then coarsely chop.

Lower oven temperature to 325 degrees.

Whisk together flour, sugar, baking powder, cinnamon, and salt in a large bowl. In a separate bowl, lightly beat eggs, vanilla extract, and orange zest together. Add egg mixture to dry ingredients and mix well until dough

forms. Stir in chopped nuts.

Divide the dough in half and form two logs about 10 inches long and 2 inches wide. Place logs on a parchment-lined baking sheet several inches apart and brush beaten egg whites over the tops of logs. Bake for 35 minutes or until firm and lightly golden, and let logs cool for 15 minutes.

Using a bread knife, cut logs into halfinch slices. Bake biscotti slices on baking sheet for 10 minutes, then flip and return to oven. Bake for an additional 5 minutes, then let biscotti cool on a wire rack.

Meanwhile, melt chopped dark chocolate in double boiler. Dip the cooled biscotti in melted chocolate and let harden on parchment paper. The biscotti will keep for several weeks if stored in an airtight container.

wwoof

Penn Appétit |

story and photos by Maura Goldstein

W

hether it said “mostly vegetarian,” “vegan,” or “food only from our farm,” every listing in the WWOOF booklet prepared me for the diet I could expect during my impending stay on a farm. WWOOF, or World Wide Opportunities on Organic Farms, is an organization that links volunteer farm workers with organic farms. When I decided to do WWOOF, I knew food would be an important factor when I was deciding where to stay. In the end, I chose “we eat very well (including local hormone-free meat, eggs, and dairy)”—or rather, a ten-acre homestead on Vancouver Island, British Columbia, owned by two young families.

WWOOF volunteers work several hours a day in exchange for food and accommodations, and they learn about organic farming in the process. While WWOOFing, I learned the farming basics, like names of flowers and gardening tricks, and then I also received an education in the world of food. Before my stay on Vancouver Island I had never ground flour by hand or encountered galangal, a peppery-flavored root related to ginger. I had never conceived of picking elderberries and I had never tasted a salmonberry.

Every day I drank raw milk from a neighbor’s cow, when I had previously only had pasteurized.

My hosts and I had a lot of common ground when it came to food—similar tastes, favorite cookbooks—but my experience of food under their tutelage was something wholly new. Every day, lunch and dinner were sit-down, family affairs that often included something just picked from the garden. The cooks were fearless and new recipes were the rule rather than the exception. I usually stuck with baking—in my mind, a more predictable science. The abundance of ripe wild berries meant a nightly debate on the merits of cobblers versus crisps, and when the verdict was decided, I volunteered to put together the dessert of choice.

I spent many hours in the outdoor kitchen. It was the only true common area on the homestead and a favorite spot in warm weather. As a cook, I loved that the dirt floor made spills inconsequential and that I could run out to the garden for greens. Tales of rainstorms causing rivers to run through the kitchen convinced me that I had come at the right time of year.

f

The kitchen did have its own set of challenges.

Dinner preparations would come to a screeching halt when the well’s low water pressure reduced faucet output to a trickle. One sour cherry pie I made took most of an afternoon: pitting the fresh-picked cherries, grinding the flour, and dealing with a crust melted by the heat. And I was still disappointed by the completed pie’s appearance. My spirits were lifted, however, when a neighbor declared it the best pie she’d ever eaten. I should have known not to worry: culinary efforts never went unnoticed.

I felt fortunate to receive so much credit for doing tasks that I save for free time at home. Mornings spent berry picking were not written off but rather a welcome contribution to the day’s eating. Sourdough bread baked in the outdoor cob oven involved just about every set of hands on the homestead and captured our attention for the whole day.

My summer on Vancouver Island was the first time I was in a community where people unfailingly put food first. I was inspired by my hosts’ efforts to seek out and prepare the best food possible, and the novelty of my observations quickly dissolved into a feeling that this was simply common sense.

So I guess I did pick the right farm, because really, what could be more important than eating well?

Penn Appétit |

Alice Waters’s The Art of Simple Food story by Audrey Farber

T

oday we are constantly reminded of our moral obligation to support local farmers and buy organically. This philosophy, known as locavorism, became prevalent several years ago as consumers became conscious of the impact their purchasing power had on the environment and their health.

Alice Waters is an originator of this ideology of eating locally, seasonally, responsibly, and simply. She is also the famed chef of Chez Panisse in Berkeley, California, and most recently the author of the cookbook The Art of Simple Food.

Waters crafts the recipes in The Art of Simple Food around a set of nine tenets she has dubbed “the principles of a delicious revolution,” including: eat locally and sustainably; cook simply, engaging all your senses; cook together; and remember food is precious. The cookbook emphasizes quality over supermarket availability and encourages the cook to build relationships with the vendors at the local farmer’s market, even eschewing organic in favor of local when necessary. Waters asks her readers and all cooks to think critically about what they are buying and cooking and how it affects the world both today and in the future.

Simple Food is a teaching and learning tool, underscoring the building blocks of cooking. The book begins, like most other cookbooks, with recommendations for equipment and ingredients. It then moves into an extensive section on preparing basic foods. She covers everything from sauces to meats and soups to desserts. With few exceptions, these recipes include fewer than ten ingredients.

Even her recipes for baked goods are user-friendly. For example, I tried out Simple Food’s recipe for cornbread. The coarse-grind cornmeal lends a heartiness and extra crunch to the muffins, and they were not too oily or sweet. The recipe has a total of eight ingredients and only took a half hour from start to finish—a typical Simple Food recipe.

Because of its emphasis on locavorism, Simple Food is a realistic cookbook. Waters’s recipes don’t call for obscure ingredients and she always offers suggestions for substitutions.

This results in recipes that are inexpensive and efficient to prepare, which is important in a college student’s kitchen.

Simple Food is neither overwhelming nor lacking in variety. Waters’s writing is engaging, and she seamlessly intersperses her recipes with locavore ideology. Waters’s philosophy, which is the premise of the book, reminds us it is crucial to think about our impact on the environment when we eat. If you are developing a cookbook collection and feel a responsibility as a chef to do right by the world, The Art of Simple Food is a must-have.

Penn Appétit | 10

Reviews­

Valanni Restaurant & Lounge

Don’t look for other fish in the sea—Valanni’s got your seafood covered. story by Bell Athayu

|

photo by Edward Zawadzki

A

friend and I chose to eat at Valanni one Saturday night because it was one of few restaurants that didn’t have a wait. But if you find yourself near Valanni’s 13th and Spruce location and there is a wait— well, go anyway, because this small Latin-infused Mediterranean restaurant is worth it.

The dark lighting, intimate size, and casual chatter at Valanni give the place a cozy feel.

There is a bar area with candles lining the countertop and amber lightings; further inside, where we sat, there is a more formal dining area with mirrors decorating blue and gold walls.

The menu offers an array of tapas, focusing mostly on seafood. We decided to start off with the special seafood bisque. Although the shrimp-based bisque was on the salty side, it proved to be an explosion of flavors. The mild creaminess tactfully balanced the aggressive flavors of the sea, while bite-sized chunks of shrimp and lobster added variety and texture. Since the bisque is so rich and flavorful, sharing with a friend allowed me to savor it without being overwhelmed.

Next to arrive were our entrées of pan-seared day

Salento Address: Phone:

2216 Walnut Street (215) 568-1314

boat scallops and sesame-crusted yellowfin tuna. The four lush porcini-crusted scallops were cooked to perfection and succulent in texture, although by the time the dish arrived they were on the verge of getting cold. The dish came with steamed asparagus and a mound of garlic mashed potatoes topped with crabmeat and shiitake white truffle jus. The crabmeat and potatoes fused seamlessly with the truffle jus, making this side the star of the dish. The aromas of the shiitake mushroom and the garlic in the mashed potatoes also complemented the tastes to round out the experience.

The tuna was just as impressive. The luscious, pomegranate-red yellowfin, cooked medium rare, was generously coated with black and white sesame seeds. It sat atop the

Bistro la Baia

La Viola

Address: Phone: Website:

Address: Phone:

1700 Lombard Street (215)546-0496 www.bistrolabaia.com

253 S. 16th Street (215) 735-8630

Penn Appétit | 11

Valanni Cuisine: Attire: Address: Phone: Website:

“Medi-latin” Dressy casual 1229 Spruce Street (215) 790-9494 www.valanni.com

Rittenhouse BYOs Bring a Twist to Italian story by Melissa Braff

F

| photo by Susan Luo

or great Italian food, Penn students don’t need to go to South Philly.

They can simply slightly sweet ginger-balsamic reduction go to the Ritteninfused with a hint of wasabi. The yelhouse Square area lowfin was served with glazed roasted to have mouthred bliss potatoes and steamed baby watering dinners bok choy, and it proved to be anat the Italian BYOs that abound in the neighborhood. La other top-notch choice on the Viola and Bistro La Baia are already well-known to Penn menu. students, so I set out to compare them with Salento, a Valanni offers a large newer addition to the Rittenhouse BYO scene. selection of cheeses, desWith similar menus of traditional appetizers, pastas, serts, and specialty ice meat dishes, and desserts, La Viola and La Baia seem cream. Bombarded too alike to differentiate. Both restaurants are converted with so many townhouses, and they have comparable prices (an averchoices, we deage $7 for an appetizer, $13 for pasta, and $16 for meat). cided to go with Even so, picking a favorite was easy: Bistro La Baia. the staff-recomLa Baia’s service is relaxed, with friendly, patient mended Oreo servers taking time to joke with guests between delibeignets. The two cious courses. In contrast, a passing waiter at La Viola egg-sized balls of knocked our table so hard a glass broke, and the bussers fried dough inpractically threw plates and silverware into place when fused with pieces of Oreo crumbs were sensational from setting tables. La Baia’s low lighting also gives it a far the first bite, for their creativity and richness in flavor. more romantic mood than La Viola.

However, the drizzles of extra-sweet caramel sauce and ice Both La Viola and La Baia serve up fresh pasta dishes cream on the side made the dessert too much for an althat would make the creators of Bertolli cry in shame. La ready flavorful meal.

Viola’s tagliatelle al salmone, in a sinfully rich rose sauce, Our experience at Valanni overall was more than satis fresh and delicious. The potato gnocchi at La Baia are isfying. In addition to the delicious meal, the waitstaff was accented perfectly by a simple but bold pomodoro sauce. friendly, energetic, and eager to serve. The prices were When it comes to meat, however, La Baia once again about $30-$50 per person, for a dinner of high-quality wins me over. A favorite was the pollo involtini, chicken Mediterranean seafood. I would recommend Valanni as a breast wrapped around spinach and mozzarella in a wild great get-together place for friends, as well as a nice spot mushroom sauce. At just $14, the white meat is so tenfor a date. der that knives are unnecessary. What really sells me on La Baia, though, is the personal atmosphere. We were treated like the owner’s favorite locals, and the kitchen even honored special requests for traditional dishes not on the menu (the chicken parmigiana won’t disappoint).

Salento has a slight twist on the run-of-the-mill Italian BYO, as it serves specialties from its namesake region of Southern Italy. Its prices are higher, with pasta dishes as much as $17 and meat dishes as much as $24. Salento offers a welcome alternative to the classic American Italian staples. The menu features a wide selection of pastas, like goat ravioli, as well as unusual secondi like the mixed grill of veal, beef shoulder, and lamb sausage. Because it is so casual, it might not be the best place for a romantic evening. But Salento is still worth the extra cash—and so are its delectable ricotta gnocchi and hazelnut praline-crusted mascarpone cheesecake.

Salento and La Viola are both viable options for Italian in Rittenhouse, but with student-friendly prices and flavors that leave us longing for a semester abroad, Bistro La Baia should remain a Penn student stand-by.

Penn Appétit | 12

A Typical Meal in Chettinad story by Arvind Raman

The Chettinad district of South India is famous for its beautiful mansions, silk saris, and distinctive cuisine. Before my recent visit there, friends recommended we eat at The Bangala, a refurbished 1960s Chettinad-style house. The building is airy with doors leading into peaceful rooms and gardens. We ate our first Chettinad lunch in a portico off one of the gardens.

The table was set with a locally-spun tablecloth and napkins, and fresh banana leaves that traditionally serve as plates for South Indian meals. A legion of servers stood ready to serve us small helpings of each lunch dish.

A South Indian lunch is typically made up of nine dishes served together, as there is no concept of Western courses. First on the table was a salad of diced cucumbers and tomatoes and sprouted whole green gram. This was followed by raita, a mild, thinned yogurt with tomatoes and cucumbers. Next were two varieties of vegetable poriyals, which are green bean dishes with mustard seeds, curry leaves, and fresh grated coconut for an extra crunch. They are very mildly spiced and bring out the freshness of juicy farm-grown vegetables. Their subtlety is juxtaposed by other vegetable dishes that are heavier and spicier. With great anticipation, we waited for the two curries: mandi, a medley of vegetables in a light gravy; and kozhumbu, rich, spicy, and tangy with tamarind.

Chettinad cuisine, lighter than many other Indian cuisines, still uses generous amounts of spice: pepper, cumin, dried co-

riander, asafoetida, fenugreek, red chillies, tamarind, and coconut.

Because of the immense variety in flavor, I try to mix and match different dishes with every mouthful. The beans were wonderfully fresh and added crunch to each bite of rice and kozhumbu. The potatoes were soft inside and golden crisp outside, perfect with the creamy raita and a bite of papad. The smooth taste of the mandi played off the sweet-and-sour flavors from the other spiced vegetables.

Next, we received a generous second helping of rice, this time served with sambar (lentils cooked in southern style with a hint of tamarind) and more of the vegetable dishes. When finished, we got more steaming rice, this time with rasam, a thin, spicy, tomato-based soup that acts as a digestive.

We were not done yet. Curd rice was followed by badam halwa, a specialty sweet with almonds, raisins, sugar, and ghee. Its unusual pairing with homemade vanilla ice cream raised it to the sublime. The magic was in pairing the smooth ice cream with the grainy halwa.

We were full from our first Chettinad meal, and there was nothing left to do but snooze under the shade of a tree in the afternoon heat, waiting patiently for what would undoubtedly be a superb dinner.

The

Sweetest Place

a magical place. Who wouldn’t love traveling in a giant cocoa bean through miniature farms, a giant tubular oven, and tantalizing pools of chocolate liquor (apart from an embittered Augustus Gloop)? And when the ride is over, you get free candy.

Of course it’s not perfect: there are singing cows and plenty of “She’s from Hershey. The streetlamps are Hershey kisses!” tourists. But as far as marketing schemes go, this one’s What an introduction. “Not all the streetlamps, only Chocodelicious and entertaining. late and Cocoa Avenue,” I argue, realizing that this statement I’ve stayed strong and resisted blind Hershey only reaffirms my status as a real-life oompa loompa from a indoctrination. Twix are a guilty pleasure, as they are chocolate wonderland. made by Hershey’s archrival Mars, and I’ll admit that So, yes, I live about two blocks from the Hershey’s Hershey’s bars aren’t that spectacular. But I have strong factory. Yes, the air often smells like chocolate. And of brand loyalty: my whole town owes its life to a chocolate faccourse, a substantial portion of my elementary educatory. tion was based on the life of the fabulous entrepreNow before you get too jealous, my hometown is probably neur and philanthropist, Milton Hershey. the reason for my four cavities. Also, I’m far from a beach and Living in Hershey has its perks. As far as close to a nuclear power plant. But I guess the upshot is that entertainment goes, we have an amusement in the rare chance there’s a nuclear meltdown, at least I can park, called Hersheypark. This is not to be expect my death to be chocolate-scented. confused with Chocolate World, a carefully story by Maria Pellegrini crafted tourism establishment, and in short,

on

Earth

photo by Lauren Rubinfeld

Interview­

Penn Appétit | 15

Andrea Billick of Downtown Cheese Andrea Billick is an enthusiastic cheese seller at Reading Terminal Market’s Downtown Cheese, which many consider to be Philly’s finest specialty cheese shop.

How did you become involved in selling cheese?

In between graduating from student teaching and looking for a big-girl job, I had the opportunity to live in France for a year. While I was there I learned about life, love, and death—and food. So I discovered cheese.

When I came back I taught for six years in the school district of Philadelphia. I needed more money, so I got a part-time job at the cheese shop, and it’s the first time I’ve been truly happy at work.

Then there were some things that happened with the school district that I couldn’t live with, and it was very hard but I decided that I would support myself by selling cheese. So I resigned and now I work at Downtown Cheese.

Were you a customer before that?

I was. The owner offered me a job because he liked my glasses, and he liked that I was picking out Raclette [a Swiss cow’s milk cheese]. When I was deciding which cheese shop to work at, I thought I’d pick the best one. So I shopped at all of the cheese shops, and I thought that this one, while it wasn’t the prettiest, had the biggest diversity of cheese.

Can you tell me about your experiences with customers?

I’ve made someone gag before. They asked me for a strong cheese and I picked out one that was a little too strong. So I moderate now: I start mild and work my way up, and I gauge what they like.

Do you try to give your customers a similar experience to what you had when you were shopping in France?

Yes! I try to. Usually they buy for an occasion so I try to pick things that make people really happy, that would create a new experience for them, something they’ve never had

before. And they get to share it with people that are important to them. So I always have that at the back of my mind when I’m helping people. I ask them what they like, and I ask them if they’ve had a certain thing before. If they haven’t I let them try it.

What sort of cheese did you eat growing up?

I hate to admit that I had Velveeta. But I’m from a small town in Central Pennsylvania, and that kind of thing was what was available. And the turning point was when I lived in France—I had access. I developed an appreciation for the process of living with food, and cheese was a big part of that.

What’s your favorite cheese?

My favorite one that I’ve had— and there are a lot I don’t know about—is Beaufort: the prince of the Gruyeres. There are three grades of Beaufort: there’s the regular one made with winter milk [Beaufort d’hiver], which is really anaemic and white. Then there’s the summer Beaufort [Beaufort d’ete], which is really good. But the one that I like is very rare, it’s called Beaufort chalet d’alpage, and it’s made with summer’s milk in the chalets on the side of the mountains in the Haute-Savoie.

So you can really taste the character of the wild flowers and the grasses, and the cheese is so rich.

What excites you most about the cheese world right now?

I think that there’s a general awareness; that people are just more curious about [good cheese]. It’s really exciting that there are little restaurants popping up that serve people cheese, and that you can go to a regular grocery store and you’d have more of a choice than American processed cheese. Cheese is very much like wine, in that there are so many experiences you can have...And with cheese, there are so many different cheeses with so many sensations; and I think that people are becoming a little more sophisticated about what they eat. story by Jamie Png | photo by Edward Zawadzki