ColumnDeep in the woods of Quebec, the realities of sirop d’érable.

A year ago I came home to a package outside of my apartment door. In it was a can of maple syrup, marked in both English and French, indicating its bilingual Canadian roots. “This is liquid gold,” read the card from my friend Amy. On the phone later I was told not to mention the fact that she had sent me a valuable can from the family stash, “don’t tell my husband.”

I felt like I was stashing a tin can of valuable drugs in my pantry. Not daring to waste the stuff, the beautifully decorated can remained un-opened. Loaded with such valeur, I was afraid to use it, and instead it became a nice daily reminder of Amy’s generosity and the fact that eventually, I was going to have to experience this maple syrup madness for myself.

That time came last week, on a mother-daughter adventure to the northern woods of Maine and the farmland of Southeastern Quebec, in which I was assured I would get the ultimate “cabane à sucre” experience. Known as “sugar houses” or “sugar shacks” in English, these are cabins and buildings where sap collected from maple trees is boiled into maple syrup. Nowadays, not only do they produce maple syrup, but they have big dining halls which serve up a traditional menu, much of it made with or incorporating maple syrup.

“She’s a food writer,” Amy told her Quebecois family.

Her aunt and our host Jacqui turned to me, “Ah, tu es intéressée par la nourriture?”

“Oui,” I responded, glad that the question wasn’t more complex as no matter how good your French is, it’s never going to make Quebecois easy to understand.

When someone asks you if you’re interested in food and you say yes, you know what’s going to come next. Out come the family cookbooks, you’re inundated with “have you ever tasted [insert name of crazy local dish]?” and every meal from there on out is peppered with, “so, what do you think?”

Such was the case in Quebec, where I not only had a worn 1950s version of La Cuisine Canadienne sitting in front of me, but I was also busy scribbling down Jacqui’s recipe for Sugar Pie in my notebook. We hadn’t even tried the French Canadian classic dessert yet and here I was writing down the ingredients. Sugar, milk, butter, maple syrup… wait, there’s sugar and maple syrup in this? It appeared we couldn’t talk about one food without maple syrup somehow making its way into the mix.

According to the Federation of Quebec Maple Syrup Producers, Quebec alone accounts for 71% of the world’s maple syrup production, and visits to one of the numerous cabanes à sucre that dot the countryside is a must for any visitor.

We drove straight into the woods, not far from the house where we were staying, to find a large wooden building with a bright red roof. We were led through the machinery, and in a crazy blend of Quebecois and English I learned about the maple syrup making process. Collect the sap, boil it down, filter it out, package it up and then put it in and pour it over every single dish you can think of.

I exaggerate of course. Only slightly.

“Un oeuf dans le sirop d’érable?” I was asked as I made my way through the cafeteria style line inside the cabane à sucre‘s dining hall. I looked down at a huge pan of eggs boiled in maple syrup. Like a poached egg but on sugar-infused steroids.

“Euh, pourquoi pas?” Why not. When in Quebec…

And this policy was how I ended up with a plate covered with everything from the classic cabane à sucre menu: baked beans made in maple syrup, small sausages in maple syrup, an oven baked omelette, sweet pickles, and of course, les oreilles de crisse.

Les oreilles de what?

Jacqui had tried to explain them to me the night before, and I had established that it had something to do with fried pig that ended up looking like an ear. Hence the name “les oreilles de crisse,” loosely translated: Christ’s Ears. In other words, fried pork rinds.

Oh yeah, Christ’s Ears. Again, when in Quebec…

A plate of maple syrup doused food and two Christ’s Ears later (they’re like super crispy, salty bacon if you happen to be wondering) and I felt like the sugar shack was turning into sugar shock. But just when you think it’s over, out come the grand-pères, dough dumplings cooked in – wait for it – maple syrup.

My normally low sugar, gluten-free self was on system overload. I drank two cups of black coffee for the sake of revival.

“I might die,” said Amy. It wasn’t an overstatement. With that level of sugar coursing through your veins you feel like you could either pass out or go run a marathon, except for those Christ’s Ears whose salty flavor is still lingering. Solution? Take a short walk and eat more maple syrup.

We were greeted outside by a man pouring maple syrup onto a bed of snow in a trough-like structure.

“Maple syrup candy!” he exclaimed handing me a popsicle stick.

“Do it Brones,” Amy tempted me. My mother raised her eyebrows.

If there’s one thing I won’t do, it’s turn down a local food experience, and despite my body cursing my decision to eat an entire plate of syrupy meat products – file this one under times I sort of wish I was vegan – I could do nothing but put the popsicle stick at one end of the strip of maple syrup, now hardened by the cold snow, and twist it into a sort of a lollipop.

It reminded me of the Laura Ingalls Wilder books I grew up reading as a child, and their maple syrup taffy making sessions, but living in the Pacific Northwest, I never really had the luxury of heavy winter snow, or local maple syrup to pour on it. There’s always a first for everything, even if that first means you’re on the verge of passing out.

“Alors, c’était bien ta première fois à la cabane à sucre” asked Jacqui energetically. How this woman, with a tiny frame and good build and who had just eaten as much as I had still had the energy to happily ask me if my first trip to a cabane a sucre was a success was beyond me, but I forced a nod.

“Prépare-toi pour la tarte au sucre ce soir!” she exclaimed. (Translated: Prepare yourself for the sugar cake tonight!)

Oh no, the sugar cake.

And so the Quebecois stint ended, not with a last supper, but with a last sugar cake and me dreaming of kale smoothies.

And that can of maple syrup at home? I could of course do something crazy like turn it into cocktails or make a fancy maple fondue with cardamom, but I am afraid that it might just remain on the shelf. Just another tin can with a pretty picture and French writing. I think we’ll all be better off if it stays there.

Editor’s note: This is the latest installment of Anna Brones’s weekly column at EcoSalon, Foodie Underground, discovering what’s new in the underground food movement, from supper clubs to independent markets to the culinary avant garde.

Images: Anna Brones

The post Foodie Underground: A Near Death By Maple Syrup appeared first on EcoSalon.

ColumnWhy is it that America is only known for hamburgers and hot dogs when we have a burgeoning foodie culture?

A surprising discovery when I lived in France was L’Americain. In the land of gourmet cheeses and perfected baguettes, food is more than something that you just consume for nourishment; it’s art. Which is why I was a little shell-shocked the first time I came across L’Americain, a late night favorite, post-pop music dance party, made up of a baguette stuffed with hamburger meat, french fries and ketchup.

If the French vision of American food had been unclear before, after this particular sandwich run in, it was very clear. For the French, there was no point in glorifying this version of junk street food, when they could just call it what they thought it represented: America.

As a nation, we have often been at the bottom of the list of culinary tradition. Sure, at home we’ve created a foodie culture and mastered combining dishes from around the world, but abroad, there remains a view that we’re all about pizza, hot dogs and chips. Our global foodie reputation is defined more by sugar and fat than by local ingredients with a cosmopolitan twist.

In fact, enter any “American” food store in another country and you’ll get a handful of classic ingredients. I’ve seen everything from swirled jars of peanut butter and jelly to marshmallow cream (things my American counterparts would never dream of buying at home), and much less abroad. But the international crowd loves this stuff. One of my best Swedish friends has specifically requested that next time I come visit she wants Reese’s Miniatures and several bags of Sour Patch Kids.

What is it that has made the rest of the world crave some of our most terrible exports and glaze over our more respectable creations? You don’t see Alice Waters shrines or bookshelves stocked with Mark Bittman translations abroad, but you’ll most certainly come across a sampling of the following.

Hamburgers

McDonald’s has swept the world like a virus, but it’s not just Big Macs that have made their way around the world. Grab an “American” menu in Southeast Asia and you’re sure to find some version of a meat patty wrapped in a bun. For some reason this American classic has other people hooked, albeit poor spellings on menus and misconceptions of what a bun should look like.

Pringles

It’s not just chips in general, but there’s something about “once you pop you can’t stop,” that has seduced the international consumer. Turns out they’re marketed in at least a hundred countries and bring in $1 billion in sales. Sure, in other countries the packaging is often smaller,  because other places know better than to serve up ten servings in one container that we’re sure to down in a single sitting — but those brightly colored canisters with the goofy, mustached man are all over the place.

Mediocre – yet complicated – coffee drinks

Leave it to the global coffee chain Starbucks to make it perfectly acceptable to order a caramel machiatto in countries where coffee consumption is holy. The result is, well, abhorrent. Thanks to the chain it’s trendy to cruise the streets of Paris with a disposable cup and you can now buy Frappacinos in Guatemala. The company’s new instant product alone was responsible for $100 million in global sales last year.

Peanut Butter

It seems like such a staple product and yet for many it’s a luxury. Some love it and some hate it, but peanut butter to Europeans is just as exotic as caviar and foie gras are to many Americans. Try tracking it down outside of the U.S. and you’ll have a difficult time, and yet somehow, everyone knows about it. A former, very typical French roommate of mine (he wouldn’t dream of keeping his smelly cheeses in the refrigerator), thought there was nothing better on his weekend brioche than some good old Jiffy, imported by friends of course.

But forget our foodie reputation for a second.

Although it would be great to be known for all the fantastic, organic and healthy items that many American chefs whip up on a daily basis, wanting to be respected for our food culture is almost a little vain. What we should be more concerned with is how we’re physically impacting the rest of the world.

With obesity rates skyrocketing around the world, and often attributed to imported food, maybe it’s time we took a step back and asked ourselves what we want our global food influence to be.

Hot dogs and high fructose corn syrup? Changing what’s on our plates at home has a larger influence than we may think.

This is the latest installment of Anna Brones’s column at EcoSalon, Foodie Underground, taking a conscious look at what’s bubbling in the underground food movement, from supper clubs to mini markets to the culinary avant garde.

Images: USDA China, permanently scatterbrained, Brett L., Like_the_Grand_Canyon, Alaivani, egarc2

The post Foodie Underground: American Food Fetishes Abroad appeared first on EcoSalon.

Morning coffee to get you up and running by 6:30am, a quick scan of the news, a rapid fire session of midday email, a “break” for lunch eaten in front of your computer while you hit Facebook, an afternoon of back to back meetings, a race home to change and grab your mat for a yoga session, an evening dinner date, and all the while, checking your Blackberry for work emails.

Sound familiar? If your average day looks a little like this, you’re not alone. Technology has helped in a lot of aspects of our lives, from paying bills online to keeping in touch with old friends, but sometimes it all gets overwhelming and it’s easy to ask, “do our lives ever slow down?”

Enter the slow movement, a cultural shift towards making time to slow down. The movement’s proponents are convinced that our speedy lives are destroying our health, families and communities. But slowing down isn’t just about turning your iPhone off during dinner, it’s about a holistic approach to your whole lifestyle, from how you travel to what you eat.

Slow Travel

One of the main components of slow travel is taking the time to be a part of local culture and connect with the people. Instead of racking up as many passports stamps as possible during a 5-day stint, slow travel advocates spending time in one place, often in rental villas where travelers can easily fall into pace with everyday life of the local culture.

A common way to experience the local surroundings and culture is through WWOOFing. The program, which stands for “Worldwide Opportunities on Organic Farms,” allows travelers to spend time working on an organic farm, giving back to the local community and being part of a culturally authentic environment. Here are some tips for getting the most out of your WWOOFing experience.

Although not essential to slow travel, doing something to help the community you’re traveling in has become an integral part of the movement and voluntourism has made its way onto the list of socially conscious slow travelers. Combining travel with volunteer projects, voluntourism has become popular with travelers that want more than cocktails by the pool at an all-inclusive resort. Hands-on experiences include everything from trail building to helping with scientific research to constructing houses. If you’re interested in this kind of traveling, Voluntourism.org is an excellent place to start.

Slow Food

Aiming to preserve cultural cuisine, the slow food movement isn’t just focused on eating better, it’s about preserving plants, seeds and agriculture and ensuring that we respect earth’s resources. The movement has so much momentum that several official organizations have been launched.

Slow Food USA aims to link “the pleasure of food with a commitment to community and the environment.” That means less time spent gorging on fast food and more time thinking about making connections between how our food is grown and what it really tastes like. People around the country are attaching to that idea, from urban foragers taking time to harvest fruit in urban environments that might otherwise go to waste to building communities through street carts.

On the more scientific side of things, there’s the Slow Food Foundation for Biodiversity, whose mission includes not only defending biodiversity, but also endorsing sustainable agriculture and protect small producers and their communities. Even the USDA launched a public awareness campaign focused on local food called Know Your Farmer, Know Your Food that we recently covered here.

Ultimately, what the slow food movement comes down to is being more conscious about where our food comes from and appreciating what we put in our bodies. What are the easiest ways to start bringing the slow food movement into your everyday life? Cook at home instead of opting for fast food; if you have your own garden, share the wealth with your neighbors; seek out restaurants that are committed to using local, sustainable ingredients.

Slow Fashion

With quickly changing seasons, cheap yet fashionable knock-offs of the latest trends used to sell like wildfire, but just as with food and travel, even fashionistas have taken a turn down a slower path. Slow fashion has put the focus on not only what clothes are made out of but what they’re made for, and whether or not they’re going to last.

Consumers are trending towards slow fashion, making the new top items ones that are made to last (read: “trans-seasonal”) as well as designed and produced with the environment and humanity in mind. How do you incorporate slow fashion ideals into your everyday lifestyle? Invest in a small wardrobe of well-made pieces that work together, made by manufacturers with integrity.

Slow Cities

It’s not just individuals taking steps to slow down – cities are doing their part as well. Cittaslow is an international network of more than 120 cities that have adopted a common set of goals to improve residents’ way of life. The slow cities movement started in Italy in 1999, when Mayor Paolo Saturnini chose to keep his town of Chianti, in Tuscany, small and protect local business, and it has spread from there.

Now a worldwide success, Cittaslow towns all commit to working towards over 50 goals and principles that will improve local life, evident in the movement’s official slogan, “International Network of Cities where living is easy.” Taking ideals of the slow food movement, slow cities put a focus on sustainable agricultural practices, conservation of and support for traditional artisan products, hospitality programs, historic preservation, and educational programs for all ages. Even in the high speed US, Cittaslow has taken hold, with Sonoma, Calif. being the first US town to be honored for its slower pace.

What three things would you slow down, if you could?

Images: Only Sequel, Anna Brones, Anna Brones, helgasm, Steve Parker

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