Hello there everyone. My name is Emily (also known as Emiglia over at my blog, Tomato Kumato) and I live in France.

That will tell you a lot about the food choices I'll be making over the next few months of writing here. I carry on a lot about the fact that I can't buy sour cream, buttermilk or refried beans, and I'm always having to change recipes in order to suit what I have. I've made a lot of creative changes over the past year, simply because some ingredients that are so easy to find back home, like cornmeal or graham crackers, are nearly impossible to locate on a Parisian grocery store shelf.

Today, however, was one of the most surreal France-induced food experiences of my life.

It's the 4th of July, which usually means corn on the cob, burgers, watermelon and lemonade. Even last year, I managed to get to the Hard Rock Café in Barcelona to have cheeseburgers and Budweiser with one other American. But this year was completely different.

I'm currently working at a summer camp in southwestern France. An old French tutor of mine started it, and she brought twelve of her students over to learn about French language and culture. Everything we do is à la française, from talking to the rhythm of our days to what we eat. Especially because this was only the kids' first full day here, we decided not to do a 4th of July celebration... we didn't even mention the holiday. For what I believe is the first time ever, I didn't even wear red, white and blue. And we made a gratin de spaghettis... one of the least American things ever.

It's tough sometimes to forgo my food traditions. Try as I might, I can't get the ambiance of a real Thanksgiving in my tiny Paris apartment with an oven barely big enough to roast a chicken, much less a turkey. And having the 4th of July come and go without so much as a firecracker or a few bars of the National Anthem was a little bit odd.

But the gratin was delicious (leftover spaghetti carbonara from last night, with some grated emmental cheese on top). And the sausage with hazelnuts almost made me forget the fact that I was missing out on grilled hot dogs.

Almost.

Hi everyone. I’m Maura. I’ll be writing every Thursday about food and cooking, and what it means to me. I won’t be doing many recipe posts, although I do plan to pass on a few of my signature dishes over the next six months.

I’m a transplanted Northerner, originally from central Pennsylvania, now living in Durham, NC. I spent many years as a make-up artist and manicurist, and quite some time working in non-profit-administration. Due to circumstances out of my control, I’m not working at the moment. I’m a writer, of sorts, meaning I don’t make a real, actual living from it, but I do have a couple of regular gigs; and I occasionally do some party planning and catering. I spend my time writing, cooking, messing with my plants, taking care of my cats and my (mostly) self-cleaning husband, watching Law & Order reruns, and complaining about things over which I have no power

I’ve been cooking since I was 10 years old, and have learned much of what I know from my Sicilian (not off-the-boat, but close enough) mother. I have that same annoying pride in my cooking that a lot of Italian-Americans have. Everyone in my family loves to cook, and we all follow a few hard and fast rules that my mother laid down when we were kids:

Sugar has no place in red sauce.
Meatballs do not get browned before they go in the sauce.
Never use a recipe that begins with “1 can of cream of mushroom soup.”

I’ve been referred to as a gourmet cook, but that makes me cringe. Also, laugh. I’m a simple cook. Less is more for me. I think a roasted chicken makes one of the great dinners of all time. I believe gourmet pizza is an oxymoron. And I’m convinced that, given the choice between a homemade chocolate chip cookie and a really complicated dessert, most people will choose the cookie.

I have a few pet peeves, but the biggest one is food snobbery, because it encompasses all the others. I do what I can to be a good citizen of the planet, but I have my limits. I do most of my food shopping at a small, locally owned neighborhood store and go to the Durham Farmer’s Market most Saturdays, but also go to Costco about once a month. I grow my own herbs but also use dried. I make bread every other day, using only my favorite wooden spoon. But I keep packaged bread in the house, because you can’t make a peanut butter sandwich without it. I make cookies from scratch, but put a bag of Oreos in front of me and I’m a goner.

Food snobbery is tyrannical, because it says there’s only one way to think about food. It’s elitist, because it assumes that everyone has the time, the resources and the desire to use what it deems the right ingredients and methods. It’s classist, because it fails to recognize that a lot of people eat the food they eat because that’s what they can afford. There is no joy in food snobbery. It’s not about the food. It’s about competition to prove who’s the coolest, the smartest or the one most likely to get a surprise e-mail from Anthony Bourdain.

Food should bring us together, not make us set up battle lines. Those rules my mother set down? They’re for me to follow. I’ve had the sugar in the sauce argument, as well as the discussion over whether meatballs should be browned. But I’m done telling people they’re doing it wrong if they don’t do it my way.

So that’s what I’m about. I plan to talk about everything from the power of food to how I run my kitchen. I hope you’ll all join the discussion.

For those of you who do not live in or near a city with a high concentration of people with Japanese ancestry, the above picture may be a little unfamiliar. So let me make an introduction.

This is daifuku. A rice cake if you will. The outside pastry is a very chewy rice dough (some would call it glutonous), the filling is called anko, a redish bean paste made from azuki beans and sugar. My understanding is that, while available all year round, they become quite popular around the new year celebrations.

I had my first run in with these treats about four years ago, when Derrick, a friend of mine from here in Seattle, took me into a local pastry shop and forced me to have one. As a person weened on cookies and pies, it's taste and especially it's texture came as a bit of a shock. But I found myself returning to them every so often when I would visit my local Japanese grocery store. They go quite well with hot tea.

They do have a certain aesthetic about them that draws me to them. As you can see, this one does have the dreaded green food coloring added to the dough, but I'm willing to give this a temporary pass, for the color may have some traditional meaning of which I am unfamiliar.

For those of you who do not live in or near a city with a high concentration of people with Japanese ancestry, the above picture may be a little unfamiliar. So let me make an introduction.

This is daifuku. A rice cake if you will. The outside pastry is a very chewy rice dough (some would call it glutonous), the filling is called anko, a redish bean paste made from azuki beans and sugar. My understanding is that, while available all year round, they become quite popular around the new year celebrations.

I had my first run in with these treats about four years ago, when Derrick, a friend of mine from here in Seattle, took me into a local pastry shop and forced me to have one. As a person weened on cookies and pies, it's taste and especially it's texture came as a bit of a shock. But I found myself returning to them every so often when I would visit my local Japanese grocery store. They go quite well with hot tea.

They do have a certain aesthetic about them that draws me to them. As you can see, this one does have the dreaded green food coloring added to the dough, but I'm willing to give this a temporary pass, for the color may have some traditional meaning of which I am unfamiliar.

Over at Mouse Print, they've been covering the recent downsizing of products upon the supermarket shelves. So far, they've noted the reduction in sizes in such products as ice cream, orange juice, mayonnaise, and margarine. As far as anyone can figure out, there's been no press release or other publically available information to alert consumers when this occurs.

The question I have is this - How big of a deal is this? Do people care? This isn't the snarky version of me asking, I'm asking out of a genuine sense of curiosity.

Part of me is a littler perturbed by this, as it seems such an underhanded way of squeezing profit out of the consumer. If a person expects 1.75 quarts of ice cream, and unknowingly purchases only 1.5 quarts for the same price due to a subtle change in packaging, how is that not fraud? I know, I know, it says the size of the ice cream right on the label, so this clears the company of any responsibility, but how many of you out there read and know the weight and/or volume of the food products you purchase? At the very least, it's a duplicitous practice.

However, the other part of me feels that some of these companies are in an impossible situation. To meet their own rising costs they either have to raise the prices on the 1.75 package of ice cream, or down size it and keep the cost close to the customers price expectation. If only they were more upfront about this practice, I'd be a little more willing to cut them some slack on this.

What are your thoughts on this practice?

h/t U.S. Food Policy

Over at Mouse Print, they've been covering the recent downsizing of products upon the supermarket shelves. So far, they've noted the reduction in sizes in such products as ice cream, orange juice, mayonnaise, and margarine. As far as anyone can figure out, there's been no press release or other publically available information to alert consumers when this occurs.

The question I have is this - How big of a deal is this? Do people care? This isn't the snarky version of me asking, I'm asking out of a genuine sense of curiosity.

Part of me is a littler perturbed by this, as it seems such an underhanded way of squeezing profit out of the consumer. If a person expects 1.75 quarts of ice cream, and unknowingly purchases only 1.5 quarts for the same price due to a subtle change in packaging, how is that not fraud? I know, I know, it says the size of the ice cream right on the label, so this clears the company of any responsibility, but how many of you out there read and know the weight and/or volume of the food products you purchase? At the very least, it's a duplicitous practice.

However, the other part of me feels that some of these companies are in an impossible situation. To meet their own rising costs they either have to raise the prices on the 1.75 package of ice cream, or down size it and keep the cost close to the customers price expectation. If only they were more upfront about this practice, I'd be a little more willing to cut them some slack on this.

What are your thoughts on this practice?

h/t U.S. Food Policy

About "Eat Your..."

Hi, I'm Ben, and "Eat Your..." is a column focused on meatless culinary treasures. As I hope you will come to see over the next six months, the entries herein are not strictly for vegetarians and this is most certainly not a political soapbox. Both meat eaters and those who abstain should learn something new, experience unfamiliar foods, and rediscover old favorites.

In my personal life, I'm currently working on a graduate degree in Crop Science at North Carolina State University. Past lives have known me as a Macintosh support technician, a dishwasher and prep cook at an Asian restaurant, and just about everything in between.

The point is, when it comes to food, I'm not a professional.

Sometime around 18 years ago, I learned to cook... by necessity. Like most American families, the more we grew up, the busier we were. The nightly ritual of a home-cooked family dinner at the table dissolved into fast food in front of the TV which eventually disintegrated into no family dinner at all. Presented with the choice between heating up frozen cheeseburgers, or picking up a few pots and pans and figuring things out, I chose the latter and have been experimenting ever since.

I was born and raised in Georgia and lack a Southern accent. Yet, put me in front of a group of people and I'll say "y'all" because "you people" just ain't right. I love to eat squash casserole, collard greens, and pecan pie. I think sweet tea is the only way to drink it. And I get confused when people say "soda" and "pop" -- because isn't everything just a Coke?

With that in mind, I plan to make this column part "down home Southern" and part culinary adventure. I hope you enjoy the ride!

Eat Your... Plan

Since it's almost the mid summer here in the U.S. Southeast, we have literally tons of vegetables arriving daily at the Raleigh State Farmers Market down the road. The first four installments of "Eat Your..." will feature okra, squash, sweet potatoes, and beans & peas. Inside each entry you will find some history of the plants including origin, common and uncommon uses, tips for cooking, and finally one or two of my favorite recipes.

Here is the basic timeline:

July - Southern Summer Vegetables

• Eat Your... Okra
• Eat Your... Squash
• Eat Your... Sweet Potatoes
• Eat Your... Beans & Peas

August - Grains From Around The World

• Eat Your... Rice
• Eat Your... Couscous
• Eat Your... Quinoa
• Eat Your... Teff

September - Fake Meats: What the ?

• Eat Your... Tofu
• Eat Your... Tempeh
• Eat Your... Seitan
• Eat Your... Veggie Burgers

October - Southern Fall Vegetables

• Eat Your... Cabbage
• Eat Your... Broccoli
• Eat Your... Rutabega
• Eat Your... Collard Greens
• Eat Your... Kale

November - Traditional and Vegan Holiday Favorites

• To Be Determined

December: Desserts

• To Be Determined

Be Prepared

Generally, I like to keep things simple. Most of the recipes that I will feature here require only the most basic ingredients; I don't like to go buy specialist items any more than you do. However, one of my goals is to expose you to new foods.

Some of the topics like the series on grains and fake meats may require some hunting or advance preparation for ingredients, especially if you are located in a rural area. To make this easier, I will be listing ingredients one week prior so that you can prepare. Because really, what's worse than reading a great recipe, wanting to make it that night, and not having the ingredients that you need?

For Next Week

Next week's recipes will require:

2+ lbs of fresh okra. Needless to say, it's best to buy it fresh from a local farmer. If you can't find it locally, because you're in, say, Portland, Oregon you can usually find okra at Asian markets. Make sure to pick the smallest, youngest pods -- 2-3 inches are best. Yes, you'll have more to cut up, but trust me, the longer pieces can be tough and woody. I have no advice, positive or negative, about frozen okra since I've never used it.

1-2 medium potatoes of your choice
1 medium yellow onion
2-3 cloves fresh garlic
2 cups corn meal
1 cup flour
1 cup buttermilk*
4 cups vegetable oil (peanut is best)
Salt
Pepper

*[For non-dairy buttermilk, add 2 tsp white vinegar to 1 cup plain soymilk]

See you next week!

. . . . .

Now Playing: the B-52's and Original Soundtracks 1 (by U2).