learning to be human, since 1984
food
The Em-pear Strikes Back
Sep 12th
I know, the clever titles are killing you.
Its just past 3:30 in the morning and though tired, I don’t really feel it. So, I went for a super-mini bike ride up the street to check on the pears I mentioned awhile back. Unlike last time, I spotted a cluster instantly. They’re not full size yet, nor should they be. Afterall, its barely September. Anyhow, here’s a photo:
I found a long stick near the tree and used it to knock a few morsels off their boughs. Weirdly, all of them had a really soft side. At first I thought it was due to them hitting the road, or from the impact of the stick. But I probed further and found this:
Looks like either:
a) general underdevelopment (though not likely)
b) some sort of insect infestation (though the darker bits didn’t seem like insect eggs…but I’m no entomologist)
c) aliens (yes, Dr. Who’s fault)
Anybody have any ideas?
I did manage to get one which had a significantly smaller patch and only nibbled one side (seen in first photograph). It was a bit tart and much harder than a ripe pear, but the sweetness had definitely started to develop and the skin was nice and crisp.
This led me to a pretty decent idea: I’m going to build a tree-fruit harvester out of recycled goods. I’ll post the process on here in the weeks to come, along with photos of the tree, its yield, the surroundings, and related recipes. Keep your eyes open and your mouths closed–chewing delicious food, of course!
Viet Hoa
Sep 6th
I was supposed to meet a friend. But as I stepped off the bus I found myself face to face with a place I’d only heard of. I didn’t remember the name, but rather the location. So, just before 7pm, I walked through the corner entrance of the building on 49th and North Avenue: Viet Hoa.
I debated not calling my friend to let him know I’d be late—but there was no hesitation as I crossed the street and pulled the door open. As I walked through, I was confronted by a large rack full of rice sacks. I walked past the checkouts, past the open freeze coolers and refrigerated displays full of exotic fruits and vegetables. The store was full of color, smells, bizarre packaging, and things one would generally not sense in an American grocery. Despite being the only white male in the store, wearing a bright yellow hoodie, rolled up jeans, and large green bag, no one stared at me—unlike the attention I’ve drawn at other ethnic groceries. Thanks, El Rey.
I felt at home. I was comfortable. At ease, completely free. Ten minutes passed. Fifteen. Twenty. As I wandered the store, I smelled things I’d only read of, touched things I’d only seen in pictures, and smelled things whose existence I’d still question as I write this. And for once, I saw a real butcher in a grocery store. And a proper one at that—who sold more than the choicest cuts that this culinarily-challenged nation has become so accustomed. One whose case contains whole chickens. Head in all, in all their de-feathered glory. In case you’re looking, they’re right next to the bin of chicken feet. Or you could just ask.
I continued, perusing the aisles, absorbing as much as possible. From what I’ve heard, Viet Hoa is Milwaukee’s largest Asian food store. I haven’t been to all of them, but I wouldn’t question it; the store expanded back far deeper than I expected—where I found an entire aisle of rice noodles. Seeing as I’m invited to two food-related events on Sunday (with wheat allergies being a potential issue), I figured they were a safe buy. Plus, I’ve only cooked rice noodles a few times and could use the practice. I also picked up some standard fare: a can or coconut milk, some chile oil, and a box of red bean popsicles—a memory of a friend from my recent past.
As I walked out, I immediately opened the popsicles. They certainly…were…frozen? The taste grew on me, but they were still a bit too subtle and questionable to be a regular purchase. Anyhow, I finally rang the doorbell 30 minutes late. No questions asked.
I’ll return soon for some in store photos, but I couldn’t resist writing something. This place is phenomenal. Indian, Vietnamese, Thai, Chinese and other Asian ingredients have been creeping into my cooking vocabulary, so I will definitely be writing more soon. I’d suggest you check it out if you haven’t already.
Beans, the Superfood of the Proletariat
Sep 3rd
These little fuckers should wear capes. Packed with iron, protein, folate and dietary fiber, few foods can match the boon that is beans. They’re also rich in other vitamins, minerals and yes folks, they contain the full array and amount of amino acids. Combine them with rice and you’ve got yourself a complex carbohydrate—and a meal that’s eaten the world over. Plus they make you fart.
What more could one ask for? Well fancy you should ask. I buy my beans dry rather than canned—either in bulk or pre-measured packs—and I do this for several good reasons.
- Weight. I bike. To work. To friends’ houses. To the grocery store. Canned beans are packed in that weird goo, not to mention…a can. Both of these things are HEAVY. Bagged beans are dehydrated, so I get more for the weight. After soaking, reconstituting, and cooking, beans nearly triple in mass. Amazing.
- Cost. This is somewhat related to reason one. A bag of beans and can of beans weighing roughly the same also cost roughly the same where I shop. In fact, usually exactly the same. Even in bulk they’re close. The dried will yield about 2½ more in mass than the canned. Et, voilà. Pound for pound, beans are some of the cheapest natural protein in the world.
- Storage. I keep them bagged or in a sealed container. They take up less space than a can and generally last longer. Were I to stockpile dried, I could use them in whatever quantity I wanted. Try that with a can.
- Processing. I like knowing how my food is prepared and I like buying it with the least amount of processing possible. This is how beans should get to my mouth:
- Grow beans
- Harvest beans
- Dehydrate beans
- Package beans
- Transport
That’s my sort of bean. None of that aforementioned goo. That the fuck is that shit anyway? Were I to grow them, I could eliminate the last three steps—maybe someday, but I’m not quite there yet.
Hopefully I’ve convinced you to at least give beans a chance. You might be tempted to give peas a chance too, but beans would give that legume a lashing of a lifetime. No offense, Mr. Lennon. I’ll post some bean recipes soon. If you’ve got a recipe or ideas to share, email me. If enough are submitted, I’ll try to post something in a similar vein.
Tzatziki – Greek Yogurt and Cucumber Sauce
Aug 29th
You’ve probably eaten it on gyros – which is entirely fine. But most likely, it came out of a plastic squeeze bottle, watered down and soapy – which is not so fine. Most Greek food places use inferior ingredients. Sorry, countrymen, but garbage in, garbage out. And when the garbage out is synonymous with the food you shovel into your face…things aren’t good.
Here’s how to make it at home, like my mom, aunt, and yiayia make it. You’ll need:
- a small cucumber, peeled (save the peels and put them on your forehead to cool down in the summer. I also eat them or compost when possible)
- garlic cloves – one or two will do
- 1+ cups of strained yogurt – only get Greek or Middle Eastern. It should be thick, creamy, and rich. I avoid low fat yogurt which tends to be filled preservatives and other junk – and just doesn’t taste as good. I generally don’t endorse brands, but if you don’t know what to get try Fage Total. It’s increasingly available, and even their 0% fat version beats the living hell out of excuses for yogurt like Yoplait.
- lemon juice or vinegar to taste (only about 2 teaspoons)
- 2 teaspoons chopped mint or dill, chives, parsley, etc
- olive oil
- salt & pepper
(notice the super high fat content, and only four ingredients. It could be argued that there are only 2 ingredients, but lets not push it. Four is low enough)
- a small or medium bowl
- a grater
- a paring knife (or veg peeler)
- a fork
Cut the cucumber in half lengthwise and scoop the seeds out. I eat them. You can do as you please. Then peel with the paring knife and grate into the bowl. My mom squeezes out the excess water using towels or a colander – but its not entirely necessary. This is mostly for texture and crunch, so add as much as you like.
Use the back of a fork to smash the garlic into a paste. Add it to the bowl along with the lemon juice or vinegar. Lemons are more traditional especially in the summer. Just squeeze the juice into a clean cupped hand to filter out the seeds before adding to the bowl. The citric or acetic acid serves to cut the richness of the fat and to enhance the natural tanginess of the lactic acid present in the yogurt. Now, mix in the yogurt.
Optionally, add the mint or dill and season with salt (I like several cracks of fresh black pepper too) and mix everything together. Finish generously with extra virgin olive oil – give it a swirl to blend it in but not too much – and garnish with dill, cucumber segments, olives, or anything that seems suitable. If it looks ridiculous it probably is – if not, then its probably fine. Don’t sweat it.
Tzatziki is traditionally sopped with bread or eaten with meat, fish, or veggies. The richness of the fat and the acidity of the lemons compliment the strong flavors of many Greek, Mediterranean and Middle Eastern foods. You might want to double or triple the recipe – it goes quickly, especially in my family. If it makes it past the dinner table, it should keep a week plus, covered in the fridge. Oh, and the longer it sits in the fridge, the more the flavors meld – I’d suggest making it a few hours ahead of time at least.
N.B. After finding some fennel in the fridge, it occurred to me that the anise flavor would work well with the yogurt. Serving tzatziki with shaved fennel rather than or in addition to cucumber would work especially well if pairing it with another food prepared with fennel or tarragon, such as fish. But that’s an entirely different post!
Milwaukee Bike Collective
Aug 28th
I had a ridiculously tiring Wednesday, but knowing that I’d be going to the Bike Collective afterwards kept me going through the day. I also had lunch with a coworker at Thai Palace on Old World Third Street. The place is really hit or miss for anything but the entrées and drinks (the lunch service has been especially lackadaisical). That being said, my veggie curry was delicious but I wish I could say the same for my companion’s food. Moving on.
Immediately after work I biked to 29th and Clybourn, two streets south of Wisconsin Avenue.

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Upon rolling up to the building, I saw Pops sitting outside. After recognizing who I was, he welcomed me in, registered me, and showed me around the place. There are frames everywhere. Frames upon frames upon frames. They seemed to multiply as the night came on. Wheels hung from the racks, organized parts filled boxes, and tools twitched in their resting places, anticipating the work ahead.
A few more people arrived – another familiar face, besides Pops. And it turns out we know a bunch of the same people. Afterall, isn’t Milwaukee the biggest small town in the United States? We futzed around the shop a bit, I lingered through lugged frames and Huffys alike, and started stripping down a bike to fix up for Center Street Daze. Eventually we had a very informal but comfortable meeting – during which I ate the remainder of my lunch (so good). Anyhow, there’s lots to do, and I don’t know how much time I’ll have to contribute. It always seems I take on more work than I can handle – but I like a challenge and it keeps me sharp, so we’ll see how things go.
If you’re interested in getting involved, whether it be to fix bikes, donate parts, work on the website, flyers, etc. – let me know. Alternatively, just contact the collective. Their info can be found here. I’ll get some of my own photos soon – forgot to bring a camera! So photo credits to whoever took them!
Garam Masala inspired Rice with Sautéed Mushrooms and Onions
Aug 21st
Rifling through a book at work landed me on a page with a recipe for garam masala, the classic Indian spice mix. Seeing those ingredients got my wrinklepatch whirring like mad! What if I were to combine flavors from two disparate cuisines?
There’s nothing new about the idea – afterall, there’s surf-n-turf, East/West fusion, and the wonderful explosion of Mediterranean dishes whose origins are often debated, and passionately at that.
So what’s different? Maybe not much, but when I think of the cardamom, cloves, cinnamon, bay leaves, nutmeg, and cumin in garam masala … I immediately think: India. Sautéed mushrooms with onions isn’t as clear – but they certainly are traditional in French, Italian, and American cuisine. I’d never really thought about combining the two – but figured it couldn’t hurt.
The recipe is simple – rough measurements if any, so use your discretion. Lightly toast some cardamom pods, cloves, and whole black pepper corns in a hot pan. I also added some very roughly chopped chiles. Then add a little butter and oil to the pan. Once the fat is nice and hot, brown the rice. Add the water to the pan as well as a stick of cinnamon and wait till it simmers. Turn to low and cover for 18-20 minutes, or according to how you normally cook rice.
While the rice was cooking, I chopped three medium portobello mushrooms into a large dice, and did the same with a large onion. I sautéed both in a medium pan with butter, adding salt and pepper to taste. The sautéed stuff finished about the same time as the rice. I simply removed all the spices from the rice, and served the sautéed mushroom and onions on top, heavily garnished with roughly chopped parsley.
I really enjoyed using fridge and pantry stuff to try something I’d never done before – which was infusing the rice with the aforementioned spices. If oil was used rather than butter, this would be entirely vegan! You could even drizzle a little lemon juice on top for a nice acidic bite. If you come up with some other ideas, let me know by posting a comment. Thanks for reading!
Butter, Salt, and Kiel, Wisconsin
Aug 16th
I went grocery shopping with my mom on Thursday, in addition to the farmer’s market. Somehow we managed to lose my butter in the mix and forgot to divvy up the lemons. When life gives you lemons, share them with your mother. More >














