I know, I know, all the controversy over foie gras. It’s so over, right? I’m staying out of politics with this one because I’ve heard pretty good arguments on both sides. (Honestly though, it’s not like I’m buying the stuff all the time.)

But I like the stuff. Actually, I think I may love the stuff (in small doses from time to time, of course). You know what else? I can get it more local than my mangosteens. Hudson Valley in fact, which is pretty much New York City’s backyard. A little more food for thought: With Chicago lifting the ban in May, are we a little closer to acceptance? (Obviously, not in California where the ban is in effect until 2012.)

Back in December D received a beautiful gift of foie gras and miraculously, some still exists tucked in the freezer, sliced and ready to go, wrapped in wax paper and excessive amounts of plastic wrap to fend off freezer burn. Still there because, simply, I don’t think about foie gras every day and because D practices what I like to call “boy searches,” whenever he looks for something. Ladies, you know what I’m talking about: Man opens drawer or cabinet and without moving declares an item not present because it is not face level, front row, with a neon sign screaming I’m what you’re looking for! My reply is something along the lines of, Yes it is. Bottom shelf, left side, behind the x. This doesn’t just happen in the kitchen.

A few months back we broke into the stash and took a handful of slices to a local wine bar and let the chef do what he may. Three amazing dishes were presented to us, wines to match, shared equally between us, my friend DR, the owner and chef.

But now while D is away, as cruel as it may be, the mice do play!

Oh… just a little crumb, he’ll never even notice– until of course he returns and reads this post. By which point it will be happily digested.

Strangely enough, I wasn’t thinking about foie at all when I suddenly had an overwhelming urge to eat some. I was writing away on a lonely Friday night thinking about peaches (I don’t always think about food, I was writing about peaches, okay). For some strange reason, foie gras popped in, blocking my peach receptors. The urge was so strong that I vowed my brain I would make foie gras the following day for a little snack if it would so kindly return to peaches.

I’ve been so good lately it’s a reward really. As I said, D is away and I have three times the amount of vegetables to cope with than normal. Not only is there a full Community Supported Agriculture share booming with summer harvest (seriously, 10 zucchini!?), there is also the garden shoving zucchini and basil down my throat. Perhaps like a future foie you could say.

While I methodically remove one item from the summer repertoire each night (a quart of pesto, frozen zucchini), I turned vegetarian eating through the non-preservable, refusing to purchase more food for the overflowing fridge.

Possibly this is where the overwhelming urge for foie gras came from: My own rejection of meat protein this past week lured me into the most forbidden meat of all: foie gras. I will continue to swear by it though: It was the peach’s fault! And how delicious they are together.

A closer look at the picture reveals I picked the worst of the foie (if there is such a thing)– The little scrappy lobe bits that weren’t real slices. And while I’m admitting things, I will also state that when the foie gras was finished from my plate, I licked the remaining fat clean off.

Seared Foie Gras and Peaches
Serving Size= 1
1 one-inch thick slice of foie gras
salt/ pepper
1/2 peach, sliced into 4 wedges
1/4 teaspoon fresh ground coriander
1/4 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon sugar
pine nuts
2 or 3 leaves of fresh chopped mint
1 tablespoon heavy cream (optional)

Method:  Warm a small skillet to medium-high heat. Sprinkle foie gras with salt and pepper on both sides. Mix the coriander, cinnamon and sugar and sprinkle over peach wedges, both sides. Sear peaches on both sides, until blackened, set aside. Sear foie gras on both sides, until blackened. Do not overcook the foie gras. The longer it cooks the less foie you get as it melts to fat! Place foie gras on a a plate, layer on peaches, sprinkle with a few pine nuts, mint and drizzle with cream. Serve with a mild cracker or melba toast.
NOTE: Heavy cream is optional in this dish. Already so creamy on it’s own, it doesn’t need it, but, well, peaches n’ cream.

My fondest memories of holidays were spent at my grandmother’s house, packed with relatives and friends, and tables piled high with Latvian sauerkraut, kielbasa, honey ham, savory meat-filled pancakes and Jell-o. Thinking back, these were probably the best holidays because they meant toys and candy were soon to come my way. I’ll believe in anything imaginary as long as I get my basket of jelly beans!

Easter always involved a production, which is why I loved it so much. My family arrived at my grandmother’s house early in the morning. My grandmother, cooking since 6 AM, would be studding her massive loaves of saffron raisin bread before they went in the oven. A few dozen eggs boiled away in onion peels on the stove and set up on the kitchen table were the “children’s eggs,” store-bought kits for us to dye eggs. (Thinking back, I now realize these eggs were the “throw aways” for us kids to hide, break and maybe find, while my grandmother’s natural eggs were the table’s centerpiece and center of conversation.)

With eggs dyed and breakfast consumed, the adults hid eggs. We used to stay in-house, but the year after the still discussed “disappearing egg” was found rotting behind a book a few months after Easter, all egg activities were moved outside. My brothers and I followed the adults, baskets in hand, destroying the house then digging up the garden, searching for eggs. We were rewarded with an early dinner and a basket of sugar.

But always, through the years, my grandmother’s eggs stuck with me. She dyed eggs a vibrant marbled amber with a handful of onion peels and some vinegar. I worked with this, and a few other colors for an upcoming article. Above are my results.

The onion peel eggs are at top, the lighter marbled egg was wrapped in peels, secured with rubber bands and boiled for 15 minutes. The darker one was boiled loose in the peels for about 25 minutes. Top right, the striped one was wrapped in rubber bands and dyed in beet juice (who knew that beet juice, which turns everything magenta would turn eggs a dull grey-green). The speckled egg next to that was boiled for 15 min in spinach then left overnight to soak. Blueberries are the indigo eggs (1 cup frozen blueberries, 2 cups water, 1 tsp vinegar, boiled 15 min). The one in the middle had star-shaped stickers adhered before dying (just make sure the egg is totally dry before removing stickers or they will run– I lost a dinosaur with running dye!). At left, my favorite surprise, are turmeric dyed eggs. These were left about 15 minutes in 3 cups water, 1 teaspoon vinegar and 1 tablespoon turmeric. They are true golden eggs. I dripped blue crayon on the one at left to produce the polka dots.

I thought of mixing blueberries with turmeric to get a vibrant green. I bet it would be fantastic. And I’ve heard red cabbage, boiled 15 minutes with 1 teaspoon vinegar and left overnight produces a fabulous teal. I heard soaking in pomegranate juice produces red, but mine turned out a putrid brown.

Natural egg dyes turn Easter into a fun guessing game and a fabulous science experiment. They are also safer than store-bought dye kits which, though they are “food safe,” processed food dyes are mostly coal tar-based (and many of them are banned in the EU).

So have fun, use your imagination with regular household items, have a wonderful holiday, and enjoy your egg salad! I’ll link to my story once it is out.

I mentioned this back in December after seeing the film, Mississippi Chicken, less about Mississippi chicken facilities and more about the people that bring us our food. While the horrors of industrial beef and pork plants are coming more into light, the chicken industry often gets overlooked. I think films and exposes like these are all too important to highlight a subject that few people want to look into. As is often said, ignorance is bliss.

We are more often concerned about the welfare of the animals in these industrial food facilities (which truly are horrendous), but there are people that work in these places that face very real injustices that are overlooked. It is all too easy to say these folks can find other jobs, but blaming the victim never gets us anywhere. The people are not the problem, it is the system that employs them that is.

One line that is particularly hilarious to me and just rings of doubling safety books in the industry and corruption:

They [Critics] point to one government measure showing that employees in toy stores are more likely than poultry workers to develop musculoskeletal disorders.

The most common musculoskeletal disorder, according to the piece, is carpal tunnel. I worked for a toy store for over 5 years, while in high school and on college breaks. I never felt my life, hands or safety at all endangered (oh wait, I did consume a lot of candy), but to compare these two occupations is absurd!