Do you ever watch an episode of Bake-Off and boggle when the contestants make jam — in a frying pan? Just because their recipe calls for a small amount of jam for a layer of a cake? How do they do that? Jam must be made in huge quantities, in a gargantuan pot, from flats of berries or massive big baskets of peaches… doesn’t it?
And what happens if you get your fruit home and there’s not enough to make Grandma’s beloved recipe because it calls for 11 pounds of peaches and you’ve only got 7? The recipe will get messed up and jam is already a hot, scary, time-consuming task. Better to just buy a jar and forget about making your own, right?
You know that whole “know where your food comes from” philosophy? It applies to wine as well. Seems some South African wines are produced under horrific human rights conditions. [The Telegraph]
Office workers complain of stinky food items eaten by co-workers. Or, y’all could just not eat lunch at your desk, which is pretty darn gross anyway, even without the stink of tuna sandwiches. [Wall Street Journal]
I’m trying to decide if it’s worth my while to make tomato sauce. Mostly, I’m put off by the fear of canning, what with the risk of botulism and all. I could make tomato sauce and freeze it – there’s still some room in my little freezer, despite being packed full of the best of the summer from fiddleheads and asparagus to corn and blackberries. However, the corporate food processes being what they are, it would inevitably be cheaper for me to buy canned tomato sauce through the winter as I need it than buy 20 pounds of tomatoes and make my own sauce from fresh local fruit. It’s a conundrum. Despite how much I actually enjoy blanching and peeling tomatoes, the cost makes the canned storebought stuff more attractive, and might potentially be beating up my ethical, foodie side.
At present I’ve got a few pounds of Romas bought from the farmers market and intended for what turned out to be the best sandwich ever – a soft ciabatta loaf with fresh basil leaves from my windowsill “garden”, a crazy expensive ball of real buffalo mozzarella and some lovely thin-sliced prosciutto, drizzed with olive oil and fleurs de sel. And of course, the aforementioned tomatoes, sliced thinly.