Okay, so there's been a little water that's passed under the bridge...so be it.

Life's twists are so bizarre. I went from being in charge--total command behind the desk making all of the decisions; well, for the most part anyway--to kowtowing to those who now are. Funny that I find myself, lowman on the totem pole, selling the products I believe in to the folks that I used to be in a former life.

Recently, I presented a kick ass product to a company that, frankly, could sell the shit out of it. What was their geriatric, I-don't-get-it response? "You're like a third grade school teacher. Just give me the price. I don't care about your background, the company history or the product information; just give me the f'n price! Do you think you can do that?" Ha. If he only knew. Sure, I could do it. But what was nagging at me was 'is this really the right thing to do?" Nope. He needed to hear about the product attibutes and why it would be in his best interest to do so. Okay, so the outcome was the "third grade school teacher" moniker. Live and learn...maybe.

I keep plugging away, day after day, because I know that that big fish is out there, ready for me to lure and reel it in. I can feel it. I can smell it. It's there waiting.

Next, please!

Today was a really bizarre day.  It started with my arrival into a lobby/waiting room at a local retailer's headquarters to sign up to see a buyer on a first come/first served basis.  I did so.  As I turned to find a seat, I looked at over two dozen men already seated, signed in, ready and waiting--all looking relatively the same in their pseudo-Brooks Brothers suits.  

A fabulous guy sitting next to me struck up a conversation, kind of like the one I'd be more used to hearing sitting on a bar stool:  "Is this your first time here?  No?  Wow, is it always this crazy?  Wow."  I truly felt like a mentor and dinosaur all in one.  

There were a minimum of three turnovers in men waiting, with a woman sprinkled in here and there.  Frankly, it was refreshing to see a little pink or blue in a sea of black, grey and brown suits.  I sat for nearly two hours before a perky, spankin' clean buyer came out to inform me that there was a reshuffling of categories going on and the meeting should end shortly with the buyers now knowing who was handling what.  No wonder folks presenting my category were waiting, waiting, waiting...

I've never competed in a tri-athalon, and those who know me are guffawing as they read this, but this buyer was buff beyond compare--and no spring chicken either--I was in submission and immediately morphed into educator/protector mode.  "I can teach you all about this category.  I've been to the plants and seen these products made..."

I didn't make the sale due to this extremely bright buyer doing the right thing, "I've got to get to know this category a little before having you come back to re-present to me, my boss and the PR and Marketing Departments."  Yowza!  I'm in love already, but, then again, I'm totally fickle.

The Fog Dissipates

Do you ever have those days where life just serves you up one big shit sandwich?  Well, that was yesterday.  Nothing seemed to be going the way I had envisioned:  work, life, home, family, bills, you name it!

Then I took a walk, got lost in my thoughts and suddenly the sun came out.  I was healed.

So every once in a while, we just need to get out to clear our heads and start over with a clean slate.

Armadillo Extravaganza

I was driving down the road yesterday in one of our more rural states when I finally spotted what has to be biggest freak of nature:  the armadillo.  I was still kind of ticked off that I'd missed the live one crossing our path the day before, but this road kill was really cool, in a very sick way.  It had claws and body armor carapace (is that English?).  Man, talk about prehistoric.

My travel companion was French and upon seeing the live beast suddenly lost all of his English, completely, and morphed back into his mother tongue, trying to explain what he'd just seen.  It took me a few beats to put two and two together...armadillo.  He asked me the word in French...as if!  (But for those of you who must know, it's "un tatou."  Thank you, Google).

Once I spotted the first little road pizza, all bets were off--they were EVERYWHERE!  

Living on the West Coast or East Coast my entire life, it's hard to imagine that these little critters could be so prolific, but, yep, it's true.  For me, it was akin to spotting wild geese in New England, or coyotes in Southern California.  Yes, that common.

My French pal was as excited about his siting as I was about mine--dead or alive.  It just goes to show that no matter where you are on Mother Earth, there's always something to be discovered.

Oh, food, you say, I thought this blog was all about food.  Yeah, well, for some, I suppose this is.

Soap

A funny thing happened today.  I received a box of soap samples from a factory in the south of France.  There were several folks around when I opened the box:  men, women, and a gaggle of teenage girls.  

The women gravitated to the citrus-y soaps; the men to the lavender soaps; and the teenagers to the floral soaps--but only the ones that were wrapped in upscale, hip packages.  The women and men cared more about the scents than they did about the packaging.  The teenagers really liked focusing on the visual appeal of the packages and the heady, sticky-sweet smell of the floral soaps.

It reminded me that marketing a product--any product--is half the battle.  

The Magic of Corn Bread

I'm all about sitting down to eat with family and friends.  The conversation should be stimulating or at the very least not put you to sleep in your soup.  A decent bottle of vino is a must.  But what about the main course, you ask.  

Hmmm, therein, mes amis, lies the rub.  

I am a big fan of the humble cornbread.  Since time is of the essence, I buy a box of Trader Joe's Corn Bread (it has actual corn kernels in the mix!) to use as my "gourmet" base.  Then comes the part where you actually have to think a bit.  Do I use ground beef, turkey or beans as the protein "base?"

I feel like ground beef today, so I chop up an onion or shallot (whatever is lying around talking to me), a clove or two of garlic and get them sauteing as I gather (or hunt) my other ingredients.  Once everything is looking golden, I dump in my ground beef to brown.  Then I add whatever I have on hand:  either a jar of salsa or a jar of marinara sauce--depending on my mood.  I let this simmer and bubble for a few minutes while I'm preparing a salad and finishing my glass of wine.

At this point, I follow the instructions on the corn bread box, grease a pyrex dish, dump my beef mixture into the cornbread mix and pop the whole thing into the oven.  Nearly an hour later, my newly named "tamale pie" is ready to see the light of day (or in my case the light of the candle!)

Not only is your family happy, but your friends are amazed and actually compliment you on being a great cook.  Ha!  The secret is in the TJ's Corn Bread mix--but your secret is safe with me.

There are lots of other corn bread mixes on the market.  But you must pass them by.  This is the real McCoy.

One pot wonders are weeknight must-do's.  Save the heavy artillery cooking for your weekend downtime.

Food for Kids

Okay, so you're sick and tired of listening to your kids whine and complain and try to bargain with you about eating, or in most cases, not eating, their vegetables.  So the solution is to Jessica Seinfeld them to death--hide every frickin' vegetable you possible can in sauces, soups, stuffings, meats, etc.  Yes, this does mean pulling out the Cuisinart from the deepest, darkest recesses of your cupboard, or dusting it off on your counter, but regardless of where you've been hiding it, it is high time to resurrect it and put it to use!

Mac 'n Cheese?  Not without "sauce!"  The organic whole wheat penne is ready to go.  What about the magic sauce?  Not quite there, but we're working on it.  One jar of organic marinara.  Done.  Now add two carrots (preferably cleaned and peeled, but who will know the difference anyway?), a stalk or two of celery, an onion, some broccoli florets and a handful of spinach.  "Pulse" the living daylights out of it, mix in your shredded cheese and blend with your penne.  

Pour this entire concoction into a greased pyrex dish.  Top with more shredded cheese.  Bake at 350 until bubbly and crispy.  Remove from oven and let sit for about 10 minutes before serving with a salad that, hopefully, the kids will eat, and don't forget a glass (or two!) of wine for yourself.  Jessica, you're a flippin' genius!

Is Organic the new Kosher?

Working in the food world, Organics seemingly have taken the place in customers' (that would be anyone who eats!) minds as the ultimate "better for you" foods.  It reminds me of how Quality Assurance really took the food world by storm:  in my mind it began with Kosher.  

Kosher, the fact that food preparation was being observed by an overseer made folks like me believe that it was healthier and safer than other foods, when, in fact, it might not have been.  

Whatever the case, I think that Organics, with strict regulations set by our government seven years ago, have overtaken the nation by storm.  It's funny that in order to qualify for organic certification, a grower/processor/manufacturer must have plenty of cash on hand to foot the hefty bill it'll cost.   Most of us believe that it's "nutty, crunchy hippies" who are making all of this organic stuff, but read a little Michael Pollan and you might just buy into his factory farm concept--corporate America jumping on the bandwagon to make more money.  Is this under the guise of health or pure capitalism?  

I don't have the answers, but I do know that I buy organic produce for my family.  I admit that I buy rBST-free milk, opting to save money.  Yet I buy organic Stonyfield yogurt, so all reasoning just got thrown out the window!

I do draw the line at organic meats simply because my pocketbook isn't quite that deep, unless we're talking Applegate Farms hot dogs.  Hey, if you've simply got to have a hot dog, this is the dog you want.

I'm getting off subject somewhat--tangents everywhere, now let me try to come full circle...Organics as the new Kosher.  Yeah.  There are more regulations governing Organics now than ever before.  The FDA seems to have found its niche of what they could successfully control and regulate.  This is a far cry from the USDC or USDA inspectors' jobs of monitoring;  this requires reams of paperwork and a system of traceability that we hadn't experienced in the food world previously.  Kosher is strict, but it always operated outside of the govermental world.  

Obama is talking about making our food safer.  Well, why not regulate ALL food production the same way that Organics are regulated?  Wouldn't this be a viable starting point?  Let's "Kosher" the food industry one baby step further...

Caulini

There are certain foods that come to mind when you go back to some of your fondest memories.  Foods like cauliflower or brussels sprouts--foods your mom wanted you to finish, but you were too stubborn to, so you sat there until they were cold, colder, coldest.  But flash forward to 2009 and you recreate those unpalatable unpleasantries by roasting them with olive oil, garlic, salt and pepper.  

Now the transformation is complete.  Your childhood is truly behind you and, yes, you have become your mother (you knew it was inevitable, but you were hoping to stave off the ravages of this brittle reality for a bit longer, weren't you?).  So finish your veggies.

To perfectly finish your veggies, it is essential to take your basic ingredients (said veggie in question, olive oil, garlic, salt, pepper) and follow a few basic steps:

It begins when you hear the sizzle of the veggie hitting the hot olive oil.  Your senses are awakened with the pungent aroma of garlic.  You're reminded to flip on the exhaust fan lest your kids stream out of their rooms, pinching their noses and whining, "P.U., what stinks!?"

What stinks, indeed?  It's the bloomin' stinkin' rose that stinks and your mouth is watering in anticipation.  Just writing this entry makes me long for some piping hot brussels sprouts, complete with char marks, roasted in a pan on the stovetop with plenty of garlic.  Pardon me while I have a "Calgon, take me away" moment all to myself.

Last week, in the NY Times, there was an entry about roasted cauliflower sandwiches--the subtle crunch and heady roasted flavor described therein made me giddy with excitement.  

Okay, so cauliflower isn't among the top 10 (or even top 100) ingredients in today's culinary [translation:  trendy] environment, but give me a pristine head of cauliflower, a bag of brussels sprouts, a bunch of earthy beets and I'm a happy girl.

Mediterranean Delights

It isn't often that your senses are assaulted by an all-too-familiar feast that simply leaves you reeling.  That was what I experienced the other day when I was cracking open jars of  items in the midst of development--or so I thought.  We twisted open one jar, heard the 'pop' signaling all was safe, plunged our spoons into the opening and let our taste buds go to work.

This was a chunky concoction of roasted cauliflower, tahini, olive oil, herbs and spices.  The al dente texture made for a truly unique culinary experience for the flavor was recognizable as a cross between homemade hummus and baba ghanouj.  Crunchy hummus--what a novel idea.  

The creation of this item came about due to an overabundance of cauliflower.  What do we do with it?  The growers wanted to move it, the price was right, the factory was near humming in anticipation of roasting so many of the white heads, but what is the final product?  Well, when in Turkey, eat as the Turks do--roast it, add olive oil, some herbs and spices and a little tahini to round out the edges.  Voila!  A new item is born.  The adage 'necessity is the mother of invention' rings true yet again.

Once the jars are filled and the pH tested, the product is ready to come to me again for more taste testing.  It passes with flying colors, having developed more of a savory top note.  

We delve into the other jars of samples and are not nearly as elated as we were with the first product.  This first product, this roasted caulflower-tahini thing, what do we call it?  It needs a name; a simple name--none of this flowery, descriptive crap that doesn't mean much.  Cauliflower + tahini = Caulini.

How do you go about marketing something that no one has ever heard of, let alone tasted?  Ah, therein lies the rub, my friends.

This is where sheer luck and a little wit come into play.  You make up a name, somewhat descriptive, but, in reality, a veritable sniglet describing the very things you are tasting, and then tout it about as if everyone and their brother knows what it is.  Pity the poor schmuck who has the audacity to ask the question, "Caulini?  Huh?  What is that?!"

"Gee whiz, you've never heard of Caulini?  What are you, some armchair traveler?  Some poor sap who learns by watching food shows on tv, but has never really experienced the thrill of ordering something crazy off the menu of some new joint that everyone has been raving about?"  Who wants to be ridiculed?  Better to shut your pie hole and breathe in this new word.  Caulini.  

A food so simple, so pure, so tempting.  You'll want to spread it in a pita stuffed with turkey and lettuce, put a huge dollop of it on your antipasti platter, savor it with chick peas and olives with a fresh fig or two on the side, and if you really are daring you'll eat it on its own with a nice glass of vino verde or pinot grigio.  Dig in, there's always more where this came from.