You knew it would come to this. Everyone and their mother already has a food blog, or posts photos of their meals to facebook and twitpic, so why not everyone and their little dog, too? Max’s Snackses is the daily food blog of Max, a golden-brown chow chow who we’re pretty sure must live in Brooklyn. He mostly eats kibble, and photographs every meal.
For more updates on Max’s daily dietary intake, visit Max’s Snackses on tumblr.
It is May. I realize for many of us that means the sun is shining, the birds are singing, and we can all stroll around in sandals. Lest we forget, though, I reside in Seattle, the land of darkness and gloom. Don’t get me wrong, there are plenty of reasons to love the Pacific Northwest: crisp, clean air, gorgeous views of the mountains and water, athletic and intelligent citizens, lovely green trees everywhere, I can pretend I’m on Twin Peaks, etc… but I’m not gonna front. The fact that it’s officially spring and we are still dealing with rainy, gray 40-something degree days can get very depressing.
To be fair, bummer weather means more time I “get” to spend inside. While everyone else is dancing around on sun-drenched beaches, savoring tropical fruits and sipping on Mai Tais (maybe?! I don’t know what you exotic strangers do in your warm climates!) I have ample opportunities to play around in the kitchen. Last week my friend Kasey and I wanted to cook something soothing to counteract the lame rainy day, but I was sick of heavy, wintry comfort food. We decided to take the best of both worlds – warm and cozy, yet light and healthy – and threw together the perfect cioppino.
Jenna Huntsberger is living out every amateur foodie’s dream. She’s gone from office wonk to food blogger to professional baker. Her blog, Modern Domestic, has inspired her to get serious, partnering with fellow blogger Stephanie Willis of Adventures in Shaw to launch Whisked! a bakery order business and market stand at one of Washington, D.C.’s most popular farmers’ markets.
Jenna’s story is one that proves food bloggers are not just whiny arm chair critics but people with real talent and love of food. I talked to Jenna on how she came to be co-founder of Whisked!
You went from being a full-time office employee and part-time blogger to real-world baker. What made you take the plunge?
I was really miserable doing office work. It’s not necessarily that I worked for a bad company but I get really bored with a desk job. It never seemed immediate to me. I went to a food networking event and I met the owner of Treet, a bakery in D.C. She was living my fantasy, she was running her own baking business, being her own boss and she loved what she did. Theresa was looking to hire a baker and I asked if she’d consider me. She didn’t think you needed to go to pastry school to be a good baker, which she did but didn’t think it was relevant. I told my job I was going to do a part-time baking job but they were against it, so I quit.
Theresa’s husband got a job in New York so she moved her business there, which is why Treet no longer exists in D.C.
You also worked in the kitchen at Birch & Barley, why didn’t you stay there?
This time of year it’s hard for me to eat brunch at a restaurant. Instead of tired florentine or crab cake benedicts (or <gasp> buffets), I grab a bright red bike from the closest Capital Bikeshare dock and ride over to the farmers market. Asparagus bundles line the wooden tables. Bins of kale and spinach also take up plenty of space. But on Sunday, it was all about the strawberries. It was the first time I spied the sultry fruit this season and I couldn’t resist picking up 2 cartons (at $7) from the tiny Bloomingdale market.
The only mistake: riding my bike back home. The berries rumbled around in a box I borrowed from a vendor. When I opened it up at home, it looked like a crime scene as the berries stained the cardboard walls. I managed to save them and decided to use most of them up pretty quickly for a friend’s graduation party. (Congrats, El!) It’s a twist on strawberries and cream, and mostly all of the ingredients can be found at market.
Creating this still cheesy, but much fresher, dish makes me so freaking happy its spring! That was pretty lame, huh?!
When life gives you a loaf pan, roast a chicken in it.
Today the Associated Press releases its first ever food section for the 2011 AP Stylebook. What does this mean for food lovers? We can finally settle the debate on what barbecue means: Can grilling and barbecuing be used interchangeably?
Growing up, I would use barbecue to simply mean a party where we grilled foods. We were not eating actual food that had been barbecued: no pulled meats, with either dry or wet rubs coating the skin. We ate dogs and burgers. As I learned more about the severity of the vinegar vs. tomato-based barbecue debates, I became careful not to use the term barbecue when I all I wanted to do was grill jalepeno poppers. Although, now it looks like I’ve been doing it right all along:
barbecue: The verb refers to the cooking of foods (usually meat) over flame or hot coals. As a noun, can be both the meat cooked in this manner or the fire pit (grill). Not barbeque or Bar-BQ.
But this isn’t the only food war settled. Among AP Food Editor Jason M. Hirsch‘s most interesting findings, which he detailed on a call last week:
- Bloody mary is not capitalized, but sloppy Joe is;
- Fluffernutter is trademarked, as well as Broccolini;
- Use foil when referring to aluminum foil, and definitely not tin foil. (“It’s never been made out of tin,” Hirsch discovered.)
Hirsch admitted he was “puzzled over whether to include foodie.” But he deemed the word “pervasive” enough in the culture to provide it a proper definition:
foodie: Slang for a person with a strong interest in good food.
While I hate the term, I do find it useful when describing the current crop of food lovers. It’s more fresh than gourmet: “a person who likes fine food and is an excellent judge of food and drink;” but also sits above the fine line of gourmand: “a person who likes good food and tends to eat to excess; a glutton.” (Or does it?)
My favorite find, though, brings me back to the frightening, yet ridiculous days of post 9/11: the changing of french fries to freedom fries. Why is the f in french not capitalized when talking about these magically fried spuds: “lowercase french because it refers to the style of cut, not the nation.”