East End Food Co-op

In need of culinary inspiration and an entry-level epic ride, I strapped my panniers on The Time Machine and hauled ass over the Second Narrows. I cruised suburban neighborhoods, admiring lush Mediterranean gardens but too pressed for time to whip out the Nikon for each green thumbs up. I finally made it to Broadway & Commercial, only to discover from friendly neighborhood information officers that my quarry was well down the hill, beyond 1^st. Commercial is a very colorful neighborhood to cycle past... 'nuff cute alternative girls. But I digress.

Parking my panniers near the entrance with all the others (2 other pairs!), I cruised the store for a couple of minutes before commencing photodocumentation, which I figure is the best way of displaying the variety and prices you can expect of the produce. Mostly organic, location of production made note of, prices better than Capers etc. but nothing amazing. A few standouts: wide selection of organic meats and sausages, noteably local, organic (which in terms of poultry, always means they are pastured or “free range”) chicken breasts for $6/lb – boneless and skinless. I like the skins and bones so I'd rather go for a whole roaster or fryer, but I know a lot of you like your chicken fatless and easy. This is the deal for you.

So after a couple of minutes of shooting, I was approached by a woman who asked brusquely, “Can I help you?” I explained to her my intentions of photodocumenting her store for my little blog, and she was very helpful. I've heard that grocery stores don't like you photographing their shelves, but Roisin was entirely cool with it, and explained to me how the labels work on the bulk bins. Green labels mean organically grown, and blue labels mean conventionally grown. I noticed that they said “naturally grown” and she explained that some suppliers, though not strictly organic, nevertheless reduce their reliance on chemicals by engaging in simply natural practices like crop rotation, or like the aboriginal “three sisters” approach – plant crops closely together that benefit each other, rather than vast monocultures that require chemical crutches. Makes sense. Cool.

Some other cool stuff: bulk organic maple syrup (in a huge jug with a tap!), good deals on wholesome bread (check next time you shop: everything has “mono- and di-glycerides” and at least a few other dough conditioners and preservatives in them... these Uprising Breads ingredients would each be recognized by my great-grandmother, for $3/loaf), and 5kg sacks of organic flour. Restaurants should always use organic flour – it's almost the same price as chemically-treated flour, and obviously a better choice holistically. Walk behind a wall into the bulk corner – bulk organic sugar, sea salt, himalayan salt, nuts, dried fruits, and of course... granola.

As I prepared to pay for my bread, produce, and chicken, I expected to be encouraged to purchase two shares in the coop ($20) to become a member... but one of the staffers let me use their membership number, since it was my first time. Thanks, EEFC. I'll for sure be back to stock up on hard-to-find items like organic garlic and ginger, and scan the sales.

Eat Local

I hate... let me repeat, HATE it when customers stand at the door of the restaurant before we open. It's first thing in the morning (to me), I haven't had my double latte yet, and the 11:30am opening time is clearly posted on the door. If it's not 11:30 yet, go away. You're not a puppy dog waiting to be let in out of the rain.

This morning at 10:30 sharp, such an expectant individual gazed through the glass of the front door as I was tucking my shirt in, and belting up. Not only am I obligated to go deal with this person while I'm still warming up to humanity, but she saw me stuffing my tattooed mitts in my pants. How rude. As I open the door, I immediately notice the generous basket of colorful produce in her arms. “I'm here for the business networking luncheon?” She was an hour early. “I'm with Green Earth Organics.” So she's not rude after all – just a little spaced out. Luckily, shes aware enough to get the hint that I'm far from ready to host her, so she walks off to enjoy the park for an hour. I bet she enjoyed that hour, too. Plenty of trees to hug.

The rest of the day is just like any other. Big business luncheon in one room, middle aged professionals and retirees in the other. Bitching about the Olympics with Allan from Spirit Lifters, and mimicking trumpet sounds with Robin from EcoLab while he fixed my glass washer (Chef KB took the broken chemical pump and smashed it against a rock to extract the solenoid, because she hoardes copper wire... only you, Chef). After the networking luncheon, Danielle of the Earth approaches me on her way out and offers me a pamphlet for her company. We end up talking about Slow Food, Carlo Petrino and community-supported agriculture (CSA). Her company is similar in concept, sourcing as many locally produced varieties as possible, but also offering imported organic products (from soy milk to sausages). They deliver parcels of organic produce to your door, once every week or two. Part of the idea is that you're getting this produce more directly from the source than if a large company like Safeway bought it from a large produce distributor like Sysco, who in turn bought it from a large farm conglomerate who in turn bought it from the farm, where it was mass produced. The profits from your purchase are traced more directly back to the farmers, not skimmed by a dozen distributors and middlemen along the way. This produce is much more easily traceable to farms that offers fair wages to producers – which is where we come in. That's why we purchase on a prescribed regular basis, to offer more consistency to the producers – they deserve job security just as much as we do.
Whether you believe that it is your responsibility as a consumer to invest in the dignity and security of local food growers, organic items are measurably healthier than their chemically-treated dopplegangers. And their taste – exists. It's funny how chemical engineers can make bacon aroma that's more one-dimensionally bacon-y than the real thing, and how artificial grape flavor taste way more grape-y than most grapes (except Okanagan coronation grapes... WOW). But the difference between a chemical-pumped tomato and its organic alternative is like the difference between Boston Pizza and Brick Oven Pizzeria. Between Joey's and il Jiardino. Cactus Club and le Crocodile. And if you can't tell the difference, then I don't know how you even found this blog. Buy local.

El Susheria

I finally found a free night to get out and see Avatar!!! My friends couldn't make the 7:10 showing so I was forced to kill time downtown until the 10:30 screening... what to do??? I first thought I'd check out Guu, as I haven't been there for oh so long, but I should have known better than to expect to walk into that place unannounced at 8 o'clock. I definitely wasn't going to go to Le Crocodile by myself, so the nearest thing that tickled my fancy was Tsunami Sushi on Robson. I'd actually never been there before so I figured a solo mission was the best way to test the waters, in the event that I ever had to take a lady somewhere in the area. Naturally, I had a seat at the sushi bar, watching the ships roll in like the Otis Redding of Japanese cuisine. For those of you neophytes who haven't experienced this yet, here is the drill: you sit at the bar where little wooden boats pass in front of you, each one with a different plate of sushi and maybe some wasabi or ginger. There are four different plates, and each plate represents a different price point for that particular item. This is a very entertaining experience, and I imagine during a busy time when the boats are all full it would be so much more so. There are many nigiri sushi I haven't tried, and as I watched unidentified pieces of fish swim past me I pieced together which each one was. Without this system, I'd have to risk up to $4 a shot to even see what hamachi or unagi look like. If you don't want what's on the boats, there are waitresses patrolling the floor ready to take an order back to the kitchen.
I started off with a 650mL Kirin lager ($9) miso soup and an order of goma-ae. The presentation of the goma-ae showed a great attention to detail. Rather than being tossed in tahini and served in a roughshod ball, I was presented with lovingly stacked and pressed spinach doused in sweet sesame dressing. The goma-ae of Sakura Sushi at Lonsdale Quay is better, as you can see the hand-ground toasted sesame seeds in the sauce, but I did enjoy the caramelized sugar flavor in this one. It reminded me of the sesame snaps I used to have packed in my lunches as a child... I'm a fan of any dish that inspires nostalgia. After having savoured my goma-ae and speculated at great length about the floating delicacies at hand, I reached for a plate of inari (fried tofu pockets marinated in sweet sake lees and stuffed with sushi rice). I love this stuff. You can pick it up at TNT market, which is probably the same stuff Tsunami uses, and make these things yourself super easily. At $2.05, I'm happier than a pig in a turnip patch that they were so convenient to snatch. My bill is now pushing $20, so I've got to be judicious with my next choices. Halibut sushi with minced kimchi and green onion... why not? I've never had it this way. Unfortunately, its delicate flavor played second fiddle to the rockstar duo of wasabi-loaded soy and the colourful garnish. Not that I'm criticizing the dish construction or quality – I can't expect halibut to be at its best out of season and thawed from last year's catch. Let me note here, though, that I saw the same suspects in rotation on the sushiboat fleet for the entire 45 minutes I sat. I wasn't surprised that the rice stuck to the plates a little bit and that the fish had lost its “freshly cut” slickness, let alone the rainbow effect that can be observed on very freshly sliced tuna. But I'm sure if I had asked to be brought a more freshly made piece, they would have obliged me. But I'm foodie, not fussy.
And then – a prawn sushi. There were two different looking prawn sushis, on two different plates, indicating different prices ($3.05 and $4.25). Cross-reference the menu: ebi is cooked tiger prawn (WARNING! Farmed in India/Southeast Asia), and the more pricey ama-ebi is RAW BC SPOT PRAWN!! JACKPOT. These succulent prawns should be eaten raw, at their best, and thank god for Tsunami for carrying this product as part of its regular menu and for serving it in its most natural state, so very lovingly and minimally manicured. I will FOR SURE pay the extra 60 cents per prawn (there are 2 nigiri sushi in each order) to support local fishing, reject destructive and exploitative agroindustrial colonialism and redundant globalism... and, most importantly, enjoy top shelf produce.
This is a great example of why I love this town so much. You can sit down to any halfway decent sushi restaurant, and you will have wild local salmon, halibut, and maybe even prawns, as part of the regular rotation. Not as part of a trend or even socio-ethical imperative; it is simply because these local fruits der mer are the best on the planet, and Japanese food is such a minimalist affair that any decent susheria does not have room in its coolers for shitty produce. So here's a note to people who complain that BC spot prawns are too expensive, or you don't get enough of them, or their texture is different: steak tartare is smaller, more expensive, and mushier than a Big Mac. Exploitative wages, chemical enhancement, and unsustainable practices propel the Indean Ocean's aquacultured and super-pumped antibiotic pseudo-prawns to reach our tables at $8/lb. Perhaps it is in our best interest to get to know the smaller, more expensive, and “finer things” in life.
check this out... http://eatprawns.com/local-food/ama-ebi-spot-prawns-sushi-delicacy/
...only $2 each!!!!!!!!!

Flavor First!

Serving tables can be a very satisfying line of work. It all depends on one's attitude and knowledge. Every time I go into work dreading dealing with chronically unsatisfied people, or those who waste my precious dinner rush minutes giving me their “feedback” on how they would design the room better, I inevitably dwell on these unpleasantries and it can really ruin the job for me. But the more I consider myself a gastronomic ambassador, the more I'm likely to spend time with those who are interested in being educated about what is on their plate and in their glass, and to simply dismiss the ignorant blowhard with a smile and a wave as the door hits them on the way out. I had a four-top last night, people who were young professionals, there to have a good time but clearly appreciated good food and wine. This is the bread and butter of the new gastronome: people who put pleasure first, have the resources to pay for it, but are still socially conscious and also aware of the dining market.

Right off the bat, they ordered a bottle of Excelsior Cab-Sauv – my current pet bottle. Rather than be the server that reads you the tasting notes straight off the wine list, I like to have something unique and intelligent to say about what we're serving, so I make a point of trying a bottle of anything I can find on our list, and make it my pet for the weekend. And I really liked this wine: at $15 retail, it's a lush glass of plum and vanilla, with mocha finish and some very smooth tannins. And what's more, I looked into the owners of the winery, South Africa's deWet family (who have been cultivating their vines on the cape since the late 17^th century), and it turns out that they are one of the more socially progressive landowners in a region that remains tainted with injustice. Their estate employs over 100 families, and provides them with access to education and healthcare – they've actually built a school for their workers' children on their property. So when my friends ordered this bottle, I told them not only about their good choice from the perspective of the wine's great drinkability (flavor first!), but made a point to let them know that their decision is in support of some of the more conscious operators in the industry. Unsurprisingly, they were very pleased to have gained this knowledge from me. This is the kind of knowledge that makes your dining experience a deep-down pleasurable one. This knowledge takes your glass of wine beyond its superficial charms – this awareness buttresses the delight of flavor with the sound structure of good and fair production. This is now food for the soul.

A waiter can be so much more than an order-taker and bottle-opener. A waiter with good knowledge can not only encourage people to make more sustainable choices by championing programs such as Ocean-Wise (but never through guilt!!! the dining experience must always be a fulfilling one, and we must always be aware that our ethics are relative), but can actually add an priceless value to the diner's experience by providing knowledge about not only how his product tastes, but how it is cooked, how and from where it is produced, and who produces it. This awareness doesn't mean that we all have to become holier-than-thou vegans and foresake our right to pleasure, making every meal a mission to save the world. It just means that if our waiters can be gastronomic ambassadors, helping us feel good about making better choices and helping to educate us about the choices we have, we can become more conscious human beings with every bite we eat. Eating is about so much more than what goes into your mouth. It is about what goes into your soul.