Reconsidering beef

Those already ambivalent about beef won't be surprised by the revelations in Denis Hayes and Gail Boyer Hayes' book "Cowed: The Hidden Impact of 93 Million Cows on America's Health, Economy, Politics, Culture and Environment."

Much of what the authors say regarding the cattle industry will sound familiar. They echo sentiments expressed by Frances Moore Lappe ("Diet for a Small Planet"), Eric Schlosser ("Fast Food Nation") and Michael Pollan ("The Omnivore's Dilemma").

In this substantial volume, the Hayeses, longtime sustainability advocates, rail against the treatment of livestock in feedlots across the country. They bemoan factory farming where animals are treated "with about the same level of respect that an automobile manufacturer feels for a piece of sheet metal." They find themselves championing alternatives such as "organic foods, locally grown foods and vegetarian diets." 

The Hayeses recognize from the outset the tremendous carbon footprints cows leave. Feedlot beef, for example, "produces five times more global warming per calorie" than pork or poultry. It takes 11 times more water and uses 28 times as much land. 

The conditions in which cows are often raised are frightening to consider. A place "that is hell for cows is paradise for germs." Pollutants in feedlots and lagoons, where farmers store animal sewage, can "rise into the air and travel long distances on the wind," and also sink into groundwater.

Discussions on processed beef filled with "nitrates and nitrites (and sometimes nitrosamines)" and bull castration make meat consumption less than appetizing as well. The authors present a strong case here against feedlot beef, giving readers significant and serious food for thought.

(A version of this review appeared originally at Publishers Weekly.)

To be "Wary"

Fears about food safety in the United States run rampant. Instances of food contamination during the manufacturing process or food poisoning often make national headlines. 

In "Eat, Drink, and Be Wary: How Unsafe is Our Food?" veteran journalist Charles M. Duncan proves these fears are not unfounded. Bit by bit, he examines the "scope of each dangerous issue," the reasons why the government has failed to protect consumers, and the consequences of such lax oversight.

Contamination can affect every "phase of our food chain, from the wheat and corn fields, grazing cattle, slaughterhouses, egg farms and dairies to our oceans and bays." Global imports generally do not get properly or sufficiently inspected either.

The FDA, for example, inspects less than two percent of foods shipped from China. Meanwhile, more than half of Chinese food processing and packaging firms regularly fail that country's own safety inspections.

Chapters on items such as produce, poultry and eggs highlight similar themes. According to Duncan, the American government drags its feet and occasionally keeps secret public information about enforcement, closures and seizures. It protects big businesses at the expense of individuals.

Subsequent discussions on milk, seafood and processed meats strike cautionary tones as well. Cases of fish fraud are especially worrisome.

Though not the most optimistic - or appetizing, for that matter - volume on modern-day food production, Duncan's work is comprehensive. Readers concerned with the safety and reliability of their foods will certainly appreciate his efforts.

(A version of this review appeared originally at Publishers Weekly.)

"Lunch" break

Lucky is the lady who can stop midday to have a proper meal. Employees at Peter Miller's Seattle bookshop do exactly that. For years, they have sat down and eaten lunch together, "in every season, in all weather, no matter the work that needs to be done that day." 

In his concise and quaint volume "Lunch at the Shop: The Art and Practice of the Midday Meal," Miller celebrates all that is good about lunch with colleagues. He encourages readers to "simply (take) part of the day back into (their) own hands, making it personal and a pleasure." 

These workplace lunches steer clear of take-out, opting instead for fresh pre-made foods that can be finished on site. The author aims for healthful and tasty items. 

He and his co-workers are privy to tartines, for example, open-faced sandwiches that are easily embellished with top-notch bread and a range of ingredients. "Fool with it," Miller suggests. "Sweeten it with a little fig spread, loosen it with salsa, sharpen it with a cheese or a mustard, smooth it with butter." 

Other dishes include a variety of salads paired with different vinaigrettes, and comforting soups. 

The book serves as a charming reminder that no matter how hectic the day or week, we still need occasional respites. With practical ideas and promising recipes, Miller gives us the tools to achieve that.  

(A version of this review appeared originally at Publishers Weekly.)

 

"Natural" goodness

Joe Dobrow charts the remarkable growth of natural foods over the past 15-plus years in an enlightening volume, "Natural Prophets: From Health Foods to Whole Foods - How the Pioneers of the Industry Changed the Way We Eat and Reshaped American Business."

Having worked with companies such as Fresh Fields, Whole Foods, Balducci's and Sprouts, the longtime marketing exec offers valuable insight on how consumer demands evolve and the ways in which organic food producers work to meet these changes. 

Dobrow introduces key moments and players, combining history and sociology with "biographical memoir and corporate profile." He explores the influence of widespread critiques of chemical agriculture such as Rachel Carson's "Silent Spring" and, more recently, Michael Pollan's "The Omnivore's Dilemma." 

The author also profiles forerunners behind some name brands, including Mo Siegel, who started Celestial Seasonings in Colorado, and Bob Moore, who turned Bob's Red Mill "into a $120 million business selling a wide variety of wholesome stone-ground grains, flours, and cereals," among others. 

Their stories prove interesting and their continued success reflects the increasing popularity of the industry as a whole. 

(A version of this review appeared originally at Publishers Weekly.)  

 

"The Food Section"

Though James Beard and Craig Claiborne were widely known in food-writing circles, their female contemporaries went largely unrecognized. University of Central Florida associate professor Kimberly Voss hopes to rectify this. 

In her volume "The Food Section: Newspaper Women and the Culinary Community," she sheds substantial light on the contributions of newspaper food editors in the United States from the 1940s through the '70s, "when food was changing significantly due to developments in technology and a changing American palate."

Most of these journalists at the time were women. They wrote "about local stores, local restaurants, and local cooks." They reported on national food news as well, on poverty, nutrition, health standards and government policies. 

And they connected with their audiences. For instance, "exchange columns in which readers requested recipes were some of the most common, popular, and long-lasting features of the newspapers acting as a kind of early social media."

Unfortunately, the author veers occasionally into less-interesting territory. A discussion, for example, on "the first industry conferences for food editors and journalists" gets somewhat dull. As does one on the history of home economics as a course of academic study. Further focus on food sections in newspapers today would also have been appreciated. 

But these are small quibbles about an otherwise cogent examination of remarkable female journalists who served "an important role for their communities" over the years, women who effectively "reached consumers and cooks" and "covered the intersection of food and governmental regulation."

(A version of this review appeared originally at Publishers Weekly.)

Mom and me

An assortment of fond kitchen memories from across the country, Phyllis Pellman Good's "Mom and Me in the Kitchen: Memories of Our Mothers' Kitchens" reads like an extended Mother's Day card. 

It is an earnest reminder of relationships forged early on and the influences our parents have. But this sentimental look back, with so many different voices in such brief instances, proves unsatisfying. 

Reminiscences abound of mothers and mealtimes — when "stuffed shells, lasagna, chicken and rice dishes, and homemade tuna casserole made many appearances" — of itinerant childhoods and immigrant flavors. 

The women discuss everything from birthdays and cooking blunders: a seven-year-old gets a sunshine cake, "three layers with a wonderful custard between the layers" and soft yellow frosting; elsewhere a teenager asked to follow a recipe that called for a clove of garlic adds ground cloves and garlic instead. 

What Good's book does not provide, however, is significant context for the women's stories, so we never gain a strong enough sense of who they are as individuals. The collection doesn't lack for breadth but sorely lacks depth. It presents a composite sketch of motherhood that inevitably leaves us wanting more. 

(A version of this review appeared originally at Publishers Weekly.)

Bugging out

Daniella Martin champions bug-eating in "Edible: An Adventure into the World of Eating Insects and the Last Great Hope to Save the Planet," an engaging though sometimes over-the-top volume. 

Having spent the past 10 years studying insects, the entomophagist concludes that "we should all be eating bugs - as our ancestors did, as our global neighbors do, as our primate cousins do, and as we ourselves do constantly, by accident, without realizing it." 

She considers them viable alternatives to beef and pork, for example. Their environmental impact is comparatively small, requiring "little to no deboning, gutting, plucking, or butchering." Crickets, grasshoppers, ants and certain caterpillars also contain large amounts of calcium. 

With that said, however, Martin might still have difficulty convincing readers to actually eat these tiny critters. 

For those willing to entertain the idea of a bug banquet, she concludes with a handful of earnest recipes for items such as Salty-Sweet Wax Worms, Crickety Kale Salad and Sweet-n-Spicy Summer June Bugs. But many may still squirm at the idea of slugs. She never fully sells them on the taste or visual factor.  

(A version of this review appeared originally at Publishers Weekly.)

Anthologizing

Editor Holly Hughes' annual anthology "Best Food Writing 2013" captures with some success the mood in today's food world. "The season of foam and gels has passed," she reflects in the introduction, "and the Year of the Pork Belly has given way to the Year of Kale." 

What follows is a collection of essays and articles by bloggers, journalists, big-name chefs and foodies alike all published within the last year.

People have also returned to slow foods, Hughes says, assuming they had previously left. 

In the meditative essay "Slow Cooking, Slow Eating," for example, Edward Behr encourages readers to take it easy both in and out of the kitchen: "Slowness really means living at the right speed for whatever you are doing, living more in the present moment, rather than looking always ahead to the next thing... It means you pay attention."

Further highlights include Michael Pollan's "Step Two: Saute Onions and Other Aromatic Vegetables," Jonathan Gold's profile of Kogi co-founder Roy Choi ("The King of the Food Trucks Hits Hawaii"), and Brett Martin's GQ article "Good Food Everywhere." They are topical, accessible and nicely done. 

The eclectic anthology would not be complete, however, without occasional paeans to questionable food items as well. 

Katharine Shilcutt, for example, writes about McDonald's in "I Ate My First McRib, and I Regret It." Dan Barry bemoans the Hostess bankruptcy in "Back When a Chocolate Puck Tasted, Guiltily, like America."

Pieces like these add lightness and levity to the volume as a whole. They provide necessary balance, making it informative as well as entertaining. 

(A version of this review appeared originally at Publishers Weekly.)

On breakfast

The hobbits had it right all along, Heather Arndt Anderson says. Their lives in the shire afforded them six meals a day, "three of which (occurred) before lunch: breakfast, second breakfast, and elevenses..." J.R.R. Tolkien was onto something. 

In her literary paean to the morning meal, "Breakfast: A History," Anderson provides historical, social and cultural perspectives on breakfast consumption. She occasionally references foods traditionally eaten in other countries, looking at jook (rice porridge) in China, for example, and platters of "fresh-baked flatbread with spreadable yogurt cheese called labneh or crumbly feta cheese, olives, figs and cucumbers" in the Middle East.

For the most part, however, the author focuses on matutinal meals in the United States and by extension England. 

She gives beverages such as coffee, tea and orange juice their due. Coffee "as it is known today," for example, became popular in "Europe and the Americas by the mid-17th century."

She provides significant background on the cold-cereal industry and major players like Kellogg and Post, and describes many of the ways people like to eat their eggs in the morning, whether scrambled, fried or soft-boiled...

Further talk of where people actually have their breakfasts sometimes – in B&Bs, for example, coffeehouses, diners, mess halls and school cafeterias – enliven the narrative as well. They help to round out her well-researched but not overwhelming discussion, a nice addition to the ever-growing food-studies field.

(A version of this review appeared originally at Publishers Weekly.) 

Food positive

Food blogger and neuroscientist Darya Pino Rose maintains her weight, she says proudly and sheepishly, by eating whatever she wants. And what she wants is "healthy food most of the time." She seldom craves sweets. 

In her food-positive self-help volume "Foodist: Using Real Food and Real Science to Lose Weight Without Dieting," Rose rejects deprivation: "Shouldn't there be more to life than constantly denying yourself the things you enjoy?" She bemoans regimens such as Atkins and Weight Watchers. 

Instead, in addition to what we eat, she encourages readers to pay attention to how and why we eat. These elements can significantly impact long-term health. 

She coins cringe-worthy terms like "foodist" and "healthstyle." Her discussion can get awkward amid amateurish writing. And she pulls quotes from random places (Yoda, for one).

For the most part, however, Rose does a decent job laying out a good-food plan. She offers advice on shopping and cooking, provides workable lists for well-stocked pantries and gathers key points into occasional sidebars: "Nine Surefire Ways to Sabotage Your Weight Loss," "The Top 10 Most Underrated Health Foods," "Forty-Two Code Words for Sugar." 

Although nothing in Rose's book is earth-shattering news, the enthusiasm with which she delivers it remains accessible and encouraging. 

(A version of this review appeared originally at Publishers Weekly.)

The art of health

When Art Smith "tipped the scales at 325 pounds" several years ago, he signed on with a health coach who got him "walking, biking and eating right." The man "made me sweat, made me curb my out-of-control appetite, and taught me the value of a healthful lifestyle."

In his self-help-cookbook hybrid "Art Smith's Healthy Comfort: How America's Favorite Celebrity Chef Got It Together, Lost Weight, and Reclaimed His Health," the slimmed-down restaurateur describes recent shifts in his personal diet. 

He reminds us to eat "foods as close to their whole and most natural states" as possible, offering ideas and recipes for dishes that are delicious and nutritious.

Breakfast might mean steel-cut oats with Greek yogurt and blueberries, for example, or soft-poached eggs with a root vegetable hash. Lunch could be a bowl of yellow tomato gazpacho, three-bean turkey chili or miso corn chowder. Salads and seafood feature prominently among his choices as well.

Smith ("Back to the Table: The Reunion of Food and Family") includes brief sections on everyday habits, too, giving common-sense advice on cooking oils and such.

And though name-dropping in the narrative (Oprah Winfrey is a client, President Obama is a neighbor in Chicago) occasionally gets annoying, it detracts little from Smith's overall goal: to provide a practical framework for good, healthful eating. 

(A version of this review appeared originally at Publishers Weekly.)

Feasting

Cooking without meat in no way means cooking without flavor. 

In her sixth volume, "Indian Vegetarian Feast: Fresh, Simple, Healthy Dishes for Today's Family," BBC presenter Anjum Anand ("Indian Food Made Easy") concentrates on sensible vegetarian dishes. 

A London resident who visits Delhi and Calcutta regularly, she prepares mostly vegetarian foods for her husband and children. She offers ideas for meals throughout the day that privilege herbs, spices, rice, beans and whole grains. 

Her "desert island ingredient would be humble Bengal gram (chana dal), a type of lentil," she writes. Highly versatile, "it can be made into a curry, stir-fried with spices into a protein-rich side dish, even used to make a dessert." 

Anand combines yellow lentils with ginger and chilies to create "fluffy, spongy, savory" steamed lentil cakes, served in a spicy rasam broth. 

For appetizers, she makes tandoori baby potatoes — twice-cooked potatoes with cumin, garam masala, coriander and paprika — and tops them with herbed yogurt. 

To griddled zucchini carpaccio, she adds an Indian-inspired chickpea salsa "based upon a roadside chaat," drizzles pistachio dressing and scatters feta cheese. 

That none of the recipes here appears excessive or inaccessible is a testament to Anand's ability to simplify ingredients and techniques. Emma Lee's bright and evocative images add class to the presentation.

(A version of this review appeared originally at Publishers Weekly.)

Throwing fish

Anyone who has been to Seattle's bustling Pike Place Market has probably seen the Fish Guys, boisterous men who "throw (and catch!) a lot of salmon," and who "give a lot of hugs (and) mug for a lot of snapshots..."

Tourist attractions to be sure, these fan favorites describe the work fishmongers like them do regularly in their book "In the Kitchen with the Pike Place Fish Guys: 100 Recipes and Tips from the World-Famous Crew of Pike Place Fish." 

They discuss their livelihoods and provide handfuls of go-to recipes as well as "tips and tricks and shortcuts for busy folks." 

At the shop, the crew promotes sustainable seafood, eschewing farm-raised salmon, for instance, because it is such a "resource-intensive food to produce," taking three pounds of feed to create every one pound of fish. 

They don't belabor their food politics, however, and keep the overall discussion light, including recipes for festive gatherings like crab quesadillas, crab cake BLTs, gumbo and paella. 

Early risers are offered breakfast recipes for a Dungeness crab and bacon quiche, and something they call Grits and Grunts. And fancier items such as Salmon Rillettes on Croustade and Calamari Persillade come courtesy of market neighbor Café Campagne, making this fun volume all the more appealing. 

(A version of this review appeared originally at Publishers Weekly.)

"Behind the Kitchen Door"

For all its talk of organic foods and sustainability, the restaurant industry pays little mind to the health and welfare of its own low-wage employees. 

In "Behind the Kitchen Door," Saru Jayaraman draws attention to servers, bussers, runners, cooks and dishwashers across the country "struggling to support themselves and their families under the shockingly exploitative conditions that exist behind most restaurant kitchen doors." 

 

Jayaraman, co-founder and co-director with Fekkak Mamdouh of the advocacy group Restaurant Opportunities Center United, recalls instances where wait staff at eateries in Washington, D.C., for example, or New York City handled food when they were sick. 

One woman had pink eye; another man had contracted H1N1. Neither had sick days to use or medical insurance. Not only did they prolong their illnesses by working, they put their customers' health at risk. 

Though the author cites studies and statistics aplenty, it is stories like these that effectively illustrate her points. 

She also addresses racism in restaurants, where "workers got darker – literally! – as you walked from the front door to the kitchen, and the darker the workers' skins, the less money they were likely to earn." 

In this persuasive volume, Jayaraman champions employee causes and argues fervently against discrimination, giving restaurant owners, diners and readers considerable food for thought.

(A version of this review appeared originally at Publishers Weekly.) 

Hot dog diggity

In the cleverly titled volume "Man Bites Dog: Hot Dog Culture in America," Bruce Kraig takes a look at the American hot dog phenomenon, giving the history and folklore behind the foodstuff that became "quintessential public dining treats - long before the rise of hamburgers - sold on streets, at fairs and festivals, at picnics (weenie roasts) and in fast-food venues."

Not surprisingly, sections on how hot dogs are actually produced, with descriptions of "high-speed choppers" used to blend meat trimmings, spices and other ingredients "into an emulsion or batter," can be less than appetizing. Talk of industrial sausage machines and the "hazards of butchery" also proves difficult to digest. 

But chapters on the simple pleasures of eating hot dogs and the ways they can be served pull readers back in. 

A fully-loaded Chicago dog, for example, "has mustard, bright green relish, chopped onions, tomato slices, pickle slices and small sport peppers jammed onto the bun." And currywurst, first popular in Germany, is "covered in a sweet-hot sauce" and "served on paper plates." 

Photographer Patty Carroll includes numerous images of old-school hot dog stands and pushcarts, helping to illustrate this sometimes disturbing but always bright tribute to an American food classic.  

(A version of this review appeared originally in Publishers Weekly.)

"Eating Well, Living Better"

Michael Fenster, a cardiologist and trained chef, puts his profession and passion to work in "Eating Well, Living Better: The Grassroots Gourmet Guide to Good Health and Great Food." It is a practical, if somewhat overblown, volume.

His tone is occasionally too folksy. "If you've come this far, dear reader (and even if you were to put this book down now this very instant and walk away, you are still a dear reader)..." And his reliance on medical studies and statistics might alienate a general audience.

But Fenster pulls no punches and goes for the goal: a sustainable, healthy and delicious "food program." It is admirable. He calls junk food "weapons of mass consumption." His advice on healthy eating and portion control hold merit.

By including four chapters' worth of cooking tips and recipes, Fenster gives readers something tangible, too.

He relies on natural spices to wake up the palate, incorporating garlic, ginger and thyme, for example, in a Caribbean-inspired broccoli and cauliflower dish simmered in coconut milk; cayenne and black pepper in pumpkin cornbread; and a lemon-curry hollandaise in a smoked salmon pizza.

For those willing to look past Fenster's verbosity and philosophizing, this book is full of tried and tested advice and delicious dishes.

(A version of this review appeared originally in Publishers Weekly.)

Hunger

In his empathetic account "The Last Hunger Season: A Year in an African Farm Community on the Brink of Change," former Wall Street Journal reporter Roger Thurow ("Enough: Why the World's Poorest Starve in an Age of Plenty") focuses on a group of smallholder farmers in western Kenya, "a paradoxical region of breathtaking beauty and overwhelming misery."

Without modern equipment and valuable fertilizers, these farmers struggle to feed their families throughout the year and produce enough crops to make money to send their children to school. They believed "education was the surest route out of poverty."

They try hard to stretch their food supplies from one harvest to the next. The time in between - when prices soar with shortages "and parents scramble for whatever income they can find and scrounge whatever assets they can sell to afford daily nourishment" - is known as "wanjala," the hunger season.

In chronicling their plight, the author also discusses the efforts of the One Acre Fund, founded not long ago by Andrew Youn, a social entrepreneur with an MBA from Northwestern University. The organization works to provide farmers with "access to the seeds and soil nutrients and planting advice" that would normally be unavailable to them.

By documenting their collaboration, Thurow paints a sobering but ultimately hopeful picture of a continuing food crisis in Africa and some of the things people are doing to mitigate it.

(A version of this review appears in Publishers Weekly.)

What the French do

Part cultural study, part memoir, part children's food guide, Karen Le Billon's "French Kids Eat Everything: How Our Family Moved to France, Cured Picky Eating, Banned Snacking, and Discovered 10 Simple Rules for Raising Happy, Healthy Eaters" is a breezy, useful volume for hurried parents looking to keep their kids well-fed.
 
A mother of two young girls, Sophie and Claire, the author recalls the year her family moved from Vancouver, British Columbia, to Pléneuf Val-André, France, her husband Philippe's hometown on the Brittany coast.

She compares North American eating habits to which they had been accustomed (e.g. fast-food consumption, constant snacking) to French norms they needed to learn along the way.

"French parents gently compel their children to eat healthy food. They expect their kids to eat everything they are served, uncomplainingly. They ask them to spend long hours at the table (where they are expected to be extremely well behaved)..."

In due time, Le Billon (Eau Canada) drafts a set of rules for her daughters, strategies she believes readers can easily follow as well. Parents should "schedule meals and menus," for example. "Kids should eat what adults eat: no substitutes and no short-order cooking."

Her tone is straightforward, generous and gentle. That Le Billon concludes with a small collection of kid-friendly recipes - including a Five-Minute Fish en Papillote and Clafoutis (sweet cherry soufflé) - helps make this foodie manifesto all the more accessible.

(A version of this review appeared originally in Publishers Weekly.)

Producers and purveyors

In an effort to highlight local producers and purveyors, Seattle resident Leora Y. Bloom talks to a cross-section of people in the eye-catching volume "Washington Food Artisans: Farm Stories and Chef Recipes."

Meet Stina Booth, for example, and her husband, John Richardson, who run Booth Canyon Orchard near Twisp. They "take turns driving their truck across the Cascades to bring their apples and pears to Seattle so that someone is always at home taking care of the trees." 

Or Pete Knutson of Loki Fish Co. in Seattle, who resembles "a Norwegian fisherman... movie-star handsome, aging with craggy wrinkles in all the right places." He is similarly attached to his trade - when he's not fishing, he's teaching at Seattle Central Community College. Knutson is "an activist in the fishing industry" as well.

The author also collects recipes ranging from spiced albacore tuna with stone fruit chutney to goat cheesecake with pears and honey. They will have denizens of the Northwest and beyond drooling - most ingredients can be sourced nationwide.

Clare Barboza's sumptuous landscape and food photos complement the narrative nicely. They give sight and sound to an admirable group of people committed to the health and well-being of their customers and their communities.

(A version of this review appeared originally in Publishers Weekly.)

Nice and slow

Jim Weaver, a restaurateur in Princeton, New Jersey, describes the work he has done in recent years with the Slow Food movement in "Locavore Adventures: One Chef's Slow Food Journey."

He helped to found a local chapter in 1999 to be part of something larger, he says, and "to support authentic food that's been grown and enjoyed as close to its source as possible."

He pays tribute to a network of organic farmers and artisanal producers in the Tri-State area. He presents Eran Wajswol, for example, a real estate developer turned cheesemaker who "(gave) up his wingtips and pinstripes for a hair net, black rubber boots, and overalls with suspenders, his daily garb for churning out memorable cheese." Wajswol runs the Valley Shepherd Creamery in Long Valley.

Weaver writes of Pegi Ballister-Howells, an early supporter of Slow Food who maintains the website for the New Jersey Vegetable Growers Association and manages the Tri-County Cooperative Auction Market in East Windsor. "People need to understand that family dinners are critical, and kids need to know that fresh food is good," she says.

And he visits Salumeria Biellese, a deli, catering and salumi shop in New York City that offers terrifically cured meats. "The company makes its products properly: everything is handmade using all-natural ingredients and the meat from specific breeds... and then naturally aged."

The author provides a compelling look at food people and places in his corner of the country. In doing so, he reminds us to pay attention to the remarkable folks in our own corners as well.

(A version of this review appears in Publishers Weekly.)