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My Lucky Tummy

Early Thursday I hurried into work, my mind on the ten things to be done by noon, and stopped short at the bulletin board between the elevator and the men’s room. “My Lucky Tummy” proclaimed a poster hanging there, letters scrawled across the fat belly of a spring robin. “1,000s of refugees & immigrants call Syracuse home. Many come from places where fast, easy food doesn’t rule. Food takes time. Food takes tradition & care. WE WANT THAT FOOD.”

I frowned at my lemon loaf and grande Americano. I, too, wanted that food.

Advance tickets for this international cuisine were $20. The menu was a secret until the doors opened to the first wave of diners at the Alibrandi Center. All we knew is that Burma, Cuba, Somalia, Thailand, and Iraqi dishes would be featured and each dish would contain no more than 5 ingredients. Most importantly, most of those ingredients would come from local, family owned markets (a fact that grew exponentially significant as we consumed dishes made from, among other things, camel meat).

The lady at the door shared protocol: grab a plate and join the throng. My Lucky Tummy is not a sit-down affair. Mingling is the point, particularly with the cooks. The Chef from Burma watched closely my reaction as I shoveled into a pile of noodles, and broke into a wide grin when I approximated ‘Hmmm! Delicious!’ straight through my mouthful. And so it was at each table, food-as-common-denominator, a tie that shrinks the world.

What we ate:

  • Thin Baw Thi Athoke from Burma, made from green papaya, prawn, peanut, and chili
  • Quimbombo from Cuba, made from okra, beef, plantain, tomato, and cumin
  • Sambusa from Solalia, made from camel, potato, and piri piri
  • Kao Pad Gai Gra Pow from Thailand, made from holy basil fried rice, chicken, and egg
  • Kunefe from Iraq, made from broken noodles, pistachio, and sweet cheese

Somalia     PeekaBoo

Camel

Griffin     Cross

The cash bar featured Griffin Hill Farm Brewery beer, a Saison brew out of Onondaga made not from water but from maple sap. Cheeky. The Husband, himself a home brewer, declared it delicious.

And what of these family-run food markets that cater to our local refugee and New American communities, supplying the ingredients that make My Lucky Tummy’s international cuisine possible? These are the inconspicuous heroes, proving there is still much to discover on the Northside of Syracuse.

A new collection of international dishes will be presented when My Lucky Tummy pops up again at a TBD place and time. In keeping with the tradition of surprises, only tantalizing tidbits will be gleaned about future events. Wherever it is, see you there.

Connect with My Lucky Tummy on Facebook and on the web.

BirdieBag

Thailand

GriffinHill

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Transparency

lambbanner

Yesterday was lambing day at Meadowood Farm, an annual invitation to the community-at-large to shower love upon  this spring’s strapping newborns. Aside from baby chicks – my unyielding bias towards them is widely known – baby lambs are quite possibly earth’s cutest invention. Continue Reading

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Winter-Blues Old Bear

WinterBlues

As I lay in bed this morning under a pile of blankets – gazing through the window into the woods; watching it snow and snow and snow on a world already covered in snow; spotting a doe making her way across my vista, a lean, silent creature delicately nosing the base of this tree and that in her search for anything at all worth eating, and I thought to myself: oh how I hate New York winters. I really, really hate them. Wish I could sleep through them. Please make it stop. I pulled the covers over my head. If I stayed under here until our next vacation could the family cope? I know: snow and dark and cold are supposed to be no big deal to a northerner. I try not to mind them. But they just suck: they suck out my life force, make my bones ache. Make me wish I could stay under my covers until Spring. But the dog whined at the door and the chickens gabbled for chow so I pulled myself together and rolled out. Outside a tidy path had been laid in the snow between the coops and when I opened the door I found half the flock assembled for a meeting and the nesting box loaded: 10 eggs.

eggs

Apparently neither knee-high snow, nor plunging temperatures, nor a sun absent from the sky for five days straight could dampen this dutiful flock’s mood. Lilac the Rooster guarded the door, behavior that ordinarily earned him considerable pain and suffering in the form of relentless pecks to the head, but when a guy’s domineering ways protect a girl from the wind and makes the house warmer, well now, hens can be persuaded to see him differently.

Rooster

Three seconds after coming back inside Tigger found her ball and whined go out again. Such a stupid dog. Was there ever a morning when I felt less like playing catch? I pulled my coat back on and grabbed the camera. Why not. Why not document all the things that make winter in New York such a drag. Back in the hen yard I opened the coop for a flock beauty shot and – holy macaroni – two more eggs! Twelve in a single 24-hour period from a flock of seven hens, and a record for the Schutt Farmette. Hurray for us? I watched the fat, sausage-roll dog barrel through the snow, smiling like this was her happiest day on Earth, and had to laugh.  Then she was done; tuckered out; panting and wanting back inside for a nap. Me too. Back under my covers to wait it out. Like a grumpy, stiff, sore, winter-blues old bear. I hate winters in New York. By the way, does anyone need eggs?

sausage-running

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Good Karma Garlic

Good Karma Garlic

On October 11th The Husband and I made our final journey to the Skaneateles Farmer’s Market, lamenting the insufferable shortness of Upstate New York’s growing season. What a delicious summer we had! And what passionate and inspiring people we met. And yet, here we were, at the end.
Since practically everything The Husband and I cook contains garlic (for which we are staunchly unapologetic), and since the folks at Good Karma Garlic grow the very best in our region, we bee-lined to their table to stock up.
“You should come out to the house and see what we’ve been up to,” Marty said with a twinkle in his eye. “We’re experimenting with ways to extend the growing season.”
Extend the growing season? Experiments? Yes, Marty, we will come.
Just four years ago, inspired by Chester Aaron’s book Garlic is Life, Good Karma Garlic’s Barb and Marty purchased and planted a variety pack of garlic bulbs. Just for fun.  They planted a second crop from the resulting bounty. Then a third. Four short years later their gardening hobby has blossomed into a fresh-food family farmette of garlic, tomatoes, peppers, lettuce greens, beans, melons and much more from which The Husband and I – and many fortunate others in our area – happily feast.
And now there’s a hoop house.
“We want to see if we can grow our food through late fall and be the first to market in the spring,” Marty said. Inside the warmth of the hoop house we found growing newly-planted rows of peas, carrots, salad greens and beets.  We mentioned to Marty how happy all this made us considering The Husband and my plans to take up canning and food preservation to carry us through the winter never actually materialized, and he immediately shared with us his tried-and-true tips for canning. Once again proving food is in his soul.
Now that their property is transforming into large garden patches, and Good Karma Garlic’s reputation for providing real food to the region is spreading, Marty and Barb have new plans for next season: they hope to start a long season, short season, and working share CSA. “We love growing things; it’s weeding we don’t really care for,” Marty confessed. Many hands make light work, and many folks eager to reap the benefits of locally-grown food will likely keep the gardens of Good Karma Garlic beautifully weed-free.
Garlic husks.
Thousands planted;
thousands more to go.
Because we can all use a little good karma in our lives.






To learn more about Good Karma Garlic’s 2013 CSA plans and farmer’s market schedule, contact them on Facebook.
























Garlic & olive oil @ 400 degrees
 for 45 minutes.
Spread on toast.


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October Rose Farm and our Chicken Sensei

Bottom’s up at the water cooler.

Now that the summer is indisputably over and we’ve a mere month to partake in the bounty and friendship that is the Farmer’sMarket, The Husband and I did what we’ve promised ourselves we would do for a long time: we visited our favorite chicken farmstead people in all of Upstate New York: Susan and Brian Underwood of October Rose Farm.
One Lucky Rooster.
Some people venture into farming with well-defined master plans, others with an inherited knack (and/or land) from familial roots. Susan and Brian Underwood of October Rose accidentally stumbled into chicken-raising when their teenage son reared a flock of egg-layers to pay for a trip to the Boy Scout Jamboree and, upon his return, surrendered custody of his 25 hens to Mom and Dad. Since then, Susan and Brian have painstakingly gathered knowledge and know-how to expand their farmstead into a beautiful, orderly, and sustainable spread at the tip of Skaneateles Lake.
Evening chores.
Rotation method.
Since product quality is necessarily tied to quality of life, and October Rose chicken and eggs are delicious, we were not at all surprised when we visited Susan and Brian to find hundreds of beautiful meat and egg-laying birds on pasture in the fresh air overlooking the Skaneateles valley. The Underwoods utilize a rotation grazing method that promotes pasture health and animal happiness. Broiler birds in pasture pens are moved to fresh grass every day; the Eggmobiles, which run a daily average of 50 pounds of eggs apiece, are moved to new pasture every week. Unlike the cringe-worthy living conditions and pollution of industrial farms, October Rose’s animals serve as the Cleanup and Renew Crew: the birds break down and scratch insect larva out of the manure left behind by grazing animals and then enrich the quality of the pasture with their own droppings. This revitalized soil enhances the grassland for grazing animals, and the cycle begins anew.
Turkeys.
It has been widely reported that October Rose turkeys are the best tasting in all of CNY, but should you wish to partake be prepared to plan ahead: orders for the Thanksgiving birds are typically sold out by June. Regularly available are plump, fresh chicken (whole, half and quarters) and fresh-laid eggs at the Skaneateles Farmers market every Thursday and Saturday, or by contacting the farm directly. I wouldn’t dream of making my chicken soup with anything but an October Rose broiler.
Eggmobile.
We’ve been customers of October Rose Farms for years. As a matter of fact, Susan Underwood – with her calm, hands-in-pocket patience – has become our Chicken Sensei. Without our weekly consultations with her at the Skaneateles Farmer’s Market we would not have dared foray into chicken-rearing ourselves. Susan has guided us through pasty-butt and broodiness and when we showed up to market a bit bummed after the unexpected death of one of our hens assured us that sometimes this just happens and, yeah, she knows what its like to regard a farm animal as member of the family.
Try having thatconversation with an industrial factory farmer.
October Rose Farm, twilight.
Watch this very fun and cool video of chicken-life on October Rose Farm.

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Lost & Fondue

Fresh fondue accoutrements at Lost & Fondue

I’ve been waiting for the grand opening. Patiently [well, sort of] just as the sign on the door entreated. This audacious endeavor of teahouse slash bistro meets vintage antique shop wherein nearly everything is simultaneously in use and for sale, how dare they. An intriguing idea and one just crazy enough to work. But the waiting…

Then, a stir in the Twittersphere: on July 4 @smallpotatos42 began posting pictures. Jazzy menu fare. I did a drive-by and a new sign on the door confirmed it: Lost & Fonduewas open for business.

If success of a business is measured by location then Lost & Fondue may look forward to a long and prosperous life. You will find this tiny eatery/antiquery in the Village of Skaneateles at the end of the garden path directly across the street from the public parking lot. Just follow the compass rose.

Inside I was greeted by a friendly fondouette who, upon learning this visit was my first, took me through the tea menu and the specials board and invited me to choose a table. French accordion played. The dining area was small but romantic; a blend of old world and vintage arranged for intimate conversations over shared plates. I felt conspicuous dining alone.

Lost & Fondue, 33 Jordan Street, Skaneateles NY

Tea was delivered. I ordered cheese fondue – of course, that’s what I came for – but I confess to a lustful appraisal of the menu with its titillating gourmet comfort soups and speciality sandwiches, and to gawking enviously when brie with tea poached chicken and pear piled on thick-cut bread was placed before the girl at the corner table. Next time. Abigail and Jonathan delivered the fondue; they described the process of combining local and traditional cheeses to achieve the desired consistency and flavor. Wake Robin Farm’s Caerffili was represented I was pleased to learn. Two plates of fresh neighborhood accouterments were placed beside the cheese pot. I dipped; took a nibble. Sharp, creamy. Deliciousness that clearly typifies this duo’s passion for detail. 

I could not tweet my happiness fast enough.

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Yummy Grub

An October Rose broiler.

“Is that all you get to eat now?” a colleague asked me the other day as I munched on my customary jar salad lunch in the break room. I don’t volunteer updates about our 10-mile challenge outside this blog on account of people’s circumspect reaction, like they’re afraid I might share an un-flattering opinion about their food choices or worry I’m on the cusp of selling them Amway. But as my own eating habits have changed conspicuously and food is something people are oddly inclined to notice and inquire about, word has gotten out. “I couldn’t do it,” she added. “Bland food just isn’t my thing.”
Bland food isn’t my thing, either.  I think the biggest shortcoming in the buy-local-and-fresh movement is that its evangelists often fail to give flavor equal billing with the health and economic benefits, especially when flavor — more than any other value — will ultimately win over the masses. Me, I ignore these overplayed topics. Nobody likes being told what to eat or where to shop so I focus instead on what truly matters: yummy grub. Simply put, eating local and in-season is very delicious.
Byrne Angus beef plus green bean 
salad and cornmeal squash croquettes.  
But there are hazards.
Take last Saturday for example. I arrived late to the Skaneateles Farmers Market to discover all that was left were summer squash, green beans and radishes. That’s it. In season, sure, except I’ve hated summer squash and green beans since childhood and I don’t even know what radishes are good for except to be carved into little veggie tray roses that everyone thinks are cute and nobody actually eats. But the market is where I acquire most of my food so in desperation I bought all one vendor’s remaining summer squash and a quart of green beans from another; I passed on the radishes because a girl’s got to draw the line somewhere.
Meadowood Farms lamb kobobs
As I drove home it dawned on me that maybe this eat local idea was crap and dinner was definitely going to suck.
I should have anticipated The Husband’s unflinching acceptance of my paltry offering. He pulled a couple Byrne Angus steaks out of the freezer, consulted the Internet, and whipped up a summer green bean salad and a batch of cornmeal squash croquettes. Delicious. Saving the day. Reminding me not to judge food by past mutilations.
The Husband’s lamb, spinach and
homemade pasta dish made with
Meadowood Farms lamb sausage.
So yeah, my colleague was right: my family is eating lots of salad this summer. Lots. But tons of other stuff, too. Turns out this experiment has nothing to do with depravation or returning to some romantic time of old. It’s about luxury – making fresh, delicious food in good company; working together in a space that now serves a greater purpose than propping up the night’s pizza box.
I’m convinced no girl in the history of humankind has ever had food so good.

Evenings in the kitchen with The Girl have been plain awful.
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10-Mile Meals

Our bounty from Saturday’s Farmer’s Market run.

A few years ago The Husband read The Omnivore’s Dilemma and it got us thinking about the seriously weird stuff we humans now pass off as food. It also got us thinking about the politics of food and life back when people were self-regulating, counting on their own — and the local community’s — enterprise to fill basic needs. Food wasn’t convenient or fast but people could pronounce the ingredients; and hardly anyone was compulsively hoarding useless chachkies from a local megamart.
Signs of Summer.
About that time The Husband and I also started noticing other things: the bunches and bunches of local food farms, farmer’s markets and little road-side veggie stands surrounding us; the fact that we felt better after eating fresh food rather than crispy chicken strips out of a cardboard box; that our food choices appeared to be damaging our health. We started talking about raising chickens and planting a garden and several times even toyed with the idea of making local farms our primary food source for a summer. Just for the fun of it.
It took a couple years of gradual toe dipping into the proverbial sustainability water but when spring rolled around this year The Husband and I felt ready to revisit the local food idea. In May we issued ourselves this challenge: make farmer’s markets, local farms and our own garden our family’s primary source for food this summer. We decided to try and ‘make do’ with Thursday/Saturday trips to the Skaneateles Farmer’s Market, visits to Wake Robin Farm’s store and an occasional trek to the Regional Market.
The Husband’s Lamb, Spinach and home-made Pasta dish
from Farmer’s Market sources.
This game of Make-Do has unexpectedly turned into something fun and delicious. We’re making friends, learning how to cook with fresh ingredients, and discovering a rich food culture in our region.
Now that we’re about a month into this thing I figured I’d share what I/we’ve learned so far:
Scape and asparagus.
We Don’t Know Much: There are a whole bunch of edible plants growing in the region that I’ve never heard of. What the heck is a scape? Or a rabe? Or rocket? And how do you prepare these things? Turns out the people who grow and sell food are also very willing to share family recipes. We’re trying new foods constantly.
Variety Abounds:We get our whole milk, cheeses, and yogurt at Wake Robin Farms; at the Skaneateles farmer’s market we get fresh local lamb, beef, chicken, goat cheese, canned goods, breads, herbs, and all manner of vegetables, both known and unknown. The flavor is worlds, worlds better than the processed stuff. No comparison.
Eating Local Makes You Loco: I thought this challenge was going to be too difficulty to stick with but the opposite is true: we’re energized, maybe because of the better food choices we’re making, and motivated to permanently cut out as much imported and processed food as we can. We’re looking into canning and charcuterie, pickling and salting, smoking and drying, to preserve our food for the winter.  
These Andy’s turnips are delicious
blanched or candied.
A New Kind of Saturday: Saturdays have become a new kind of day – one of food preparation for the upcoming week. Delicate, leafy produce spoils quickly unless thoroughly washed, dried and wrapped; meats and veg bought in bulk have to be separated and frozen or canned; we’ve learned to cook en mass and to anticipate future need. Saturdays have become the food-prep and preserve day for the upcoming week.
You Just Never Know: We’re dependent on what is in season, and weather, and temperature, the health of the farmer — all things we never gave a thought to before. We just never know exactly what will be on our plates in any given week, and we’ve learned not to freak out about it. We’ll figure it out. This is a diabolic shift in our food consumption and our attitude about food in general. It requires us to succumb to the process of cooking what we have on hand, even if those ingredients are the same ones we made our meals out of yesterday. Developing a robust recipe collection has been key to keeping us on track.
Beans from Ethiopia. El Salvador and Guatemala
roasted in The Husband’s  Behmor 1600.
Buying Local is Socially Gratifying: Building relationships with the people who grow and raise our food has been the single most enjoyable aspect of this challenge. These people are passionate. They are knowledgeable. And, frankly, in an apocalypse these are the folks you want to know.
Exceptions: There are certain things we cook with and consume that are not and never will be produced locally:  olive oil; coffee (The Husband is a home roaster and buys his green beans from Sweet Marias. He roasts in-house with his Behmor 1600 – this isn’t going to change); bananas (I love them – don’t judge).
So where do we get our food these days?
Good Karma Garlic
Susanville
Navarino Orchard– Sweet onions and potatoes, apples, strawberries, peaches, canned goods, fruit pies. (they also make barley and peanut butter doggie treats that our mutt loves.)
Byrne Black Angus
Byrne Black Angus– These guys do one thing: natural, grass-feed black angus beef.
Wake Robin Farm – Yogurt, artisan cheeses, and milk. Visitors usually get to see the cows just outback in the pasture.
Meadowood Farms Lamb sausage and a sheep’s milk brebis.
Susanville Good Karma Garlic – A large variety of garlic and tomatoes, and seasonal vegetables. The Good Karma Garlic keeps the fresh veg coming well into the cold season.
An October Rose broiler smoked on
The Husband’s grill.
October Rose Farm– Free range and antibiotic free eggs, chicken and turkey. 
Other Seeds of Change that got this Fat American thinking:
Food, Inc. documentary
Fresh documentary
The Future of Food documentary
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Earth Day at Elderberry Pond Farm

Elderberry Pond Farm, Auburn NY
To commemorate Earth Day The Husband, The Girl and I traveled four short miles to attend an “Early Garden Treasures” workshop at Elderberry Pond Farm. If you’re unfamiliar with Elderberry Pond you are missing out on one of the most beautiful, pristine farms in all of Upstate New York. More important than its loveliness, the farm is a superb example of how high quality sustainable food is grown. Elderberry is certified by the Northeast Organic Farming Association and what is immediately clear to anyone who visits is the passion Lou and Merby Lego – the He and She of the place — feel for what they do.
The Country Food Store at Elderberry Pond Farm
The workshop began with a presentation in the restaurant dining room where Lou discussed the differences between commercial farming and highly diversified organic farming. He shared with us tips for reducing the impact of common garden pests without using pesticides and which plant varieties work best in our region in his [considerable] experience.  Afterward we walked over to the barn to take a look at the onion and leek starters waiting there to be planted and at the tomato plants Lou had grafted to produce a plant that is both root-hardy and flavorful. Finally, he took us to the greenhouse where spring vegetables for the restaurant are growing.
Sampling the greens
The workshop brimmed with sage gardening advice and we left feeling inspired to get our own garden going. You need not miss out: there are two more workshops scheduled in May. Check out the details here.
You can eat what they grow! The Elderberry Pond Restaurant is now open for spring. View a sample menu, learn about the chefs and find reservation information here.
The Country Store opens in June. Should I tell you the basil grown on Elderberry Pond Farm is the best on planet Earth? Only if you promise to leave me enough for my pesto.
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