In striking aerial images, he captures the massive scale of 21st-century agriculture that has sculpted 40 percent of the Earth’s surface.
He explores the farming of staples like wheat and rice, the cultivation of vegetables and fruits, fishing and aquaculture, and meat production. He surveys traditional farming in diverse cultures, and he penetrates vast agribusinesses that fuel international trade. From Kansas wheat fields to a shrimp cocktail’s origins in India to cattle stations in Australia larger than some countries, Steinmetz tracks the foods we eat back to land and sea, field and factory. He takes us places that most of us never see, although our very lives depend on them.
The only catch for pedantic mayonnaise lovers is that the label clarifies that Nomu mayo is a “mayonnaise-style drink” and “not mayonnaise”. Currently in a “test sale period”, it still remains to be seen if Nomu mayo actually appeals to Japanese customers, who are used to the thicker and richer taste of Japanese mayo, as opposed to more Western varieties.
Unrelated, the best idea I ever had for a reality television program was “Uh Oh, It’s Mayo!” The premise being kind of like Cake or Not Cake (though this idea is from 2008) where the host goes around offering people the opportunity to taste different food products with some of them being 100% mayonnaise. It even had a theme song, the tune of which you’ll have to imagine unless you want to text me so I can send you a voice memo of it, but the lyrics are, “What’s in the pie, I don’t know. Uh oh it’s mayo!” Call me, Bravo.
As you know, I am passionate about sweet things. All different kinds. So imagine my dismay back in 2017 when I discovered the recipe for Heath Bar Klondike had been changed to remove any trace of Heath Bar bits from the Klondike. It wasn’t just one box of Heathless wonders neither, it was box after box, which I kept buying like some kind of fool. This post has a point past petty dessert-themed grievances, I stg, bear with me. But first, look at this nonsense. (If you want the point, just skip to the last paragraph.)
2017 was a time when Google still worked so I searched to see if anyone else had noticed this change and didn’t find anything. I am not a narcissist, but I can spin a yarn, so the narrative I told myself was I was the only person in the world with the following traits: 1) cares a lot about desserts 2) likes Heath Bar Klondike Bars 3) is stubborn enough to buy a product multiple times after being so wronged and 4) is perceptive enough to notice the lack of Heath Bar bits on the Heath Bar Klondikes.
I did what was customary at the time and complained to Klondike on Twitter. Klondike put me in touch with customer service who insisted my lying eyes hadn’t seen what they saw, and the recipe hadn’t been changed at all. It clearly had because sometime in late 2018, I tried another box and the Heath Bar bits were back. Still not as prevalent as they had been, but back nonetheless.
All this to say at some point, my friend Mike, on the other side of the country, also noticed the lack of bits on his bars and mentioned something about it, which thus made me feel less crazy for noticing it. I was no longer alone.
My most recent example of this phenomenon, is Irish Spring changing the formula in 2022, which many people have mentioned online because the scent changed. I don’t care about any of that, but what does bug me is you used to be able to marry an old bar with a new bar. That is, if you put the sliver of your old bar on to the new bar, it would melt into the new bar. After the formula change this doesn’t happen anymore. You stick the old bar on the new bar and never the twain shall meet. IT DRIVES ME CRAZY.
Anyway, I was wondering if any of y’all have any bugaboos like this where you feel like you’re the only one who knows this is happening. Put it in the comments and feel less alone.
Hey what are you doing, let’s talk about cranberries! Surely you know, the cranberry is the Official Berry of my wonderful Commonwealth. The tart berry is one of only a few native North American fruits, like the pawpaw. The previous sentence has a lie because cranberries aren’t drupes, and I know that because I just learned what a drupe is. Cranberries are, in fact, epigynous or false berries, something else I just learned about and about which we’re not going to talk about anymore because this post is about making nightmares not destroying dreams, which are in fact two different actions. (Unrelated, North Carolina can’t decide on an official berry and has both an official state red berry and an official state blue berry. (You’ll never guess the official blue berry of NC.))
Massachusetts boasts 30% of global cranberry acreage, which is a lot and also a very nice and real fact. Most cranberry products come from Oceanspray, a farmer owned cooperative with 700 member owners. This is a neat and less capitalistic model than most corporate juice production, which may make Oceanspray products taste a little sweeter. You remember this TikTok which increased sales for both Oceanspray products and Fleetwood Mac.
Cranberries are grown in bogs, but since bogs can’t generally support a large person’s weight, farmers harvest cranberries by flooding the bog and corralling the cranberries together like so many tart reddish sheep. In this analogy, cranberry sauce is the wool of those tart sheep. And below here is where the nightmares start, so consider not advancing if you’re of gentle disposition.
All this was needless preamble to get to what I really want to tell you about which is, according to this lost Tumblr post, if you try to get a job at a cranberry bog you might get asked how you feel about spiders and that’s a weird interview question and you might consider not telling the truth because what you want to do is wake up early and be one with the (false) berry. What you want to do is go back to your boggy roots. What you want to do is farm cranberries like a cranberry farmer. But if you do have a problem with spiders and you don’t say anything it’s going to be another problem, and buddy, it’s gonna to be a big one. You see, cranberry farms have been moving towards more organic farming methods which preclude the use of pesticides and so to keep the insect population down, the farmers encourage wolf spiders to live in the bogs. I’m sorry, I meant WOLF SPIDERS. And when they flood the bogs to harvest the cranberries, the WOLF SPIDERS, who are probably called WOLF SPIDERS because they look like little 8 legged wolves, don’t ask me, I’m not an arachnobiologist, flee the deluge for higher ground, because while they can swim like Michael Phelps, they do not prefer to. So they seek higher ground and guess what the higher ground is, Joann, it’s you. You’re the higher ground.
And so the cranberry farmers will ask you how you feel about spiders before hiring you because you might have dozens of swimming WOLF SPIDERS climbing out of the water up your waders and into your hair, but you’ve got to be fine with it because the WOLF SPIDERS are your fellow cranberry bog employees and everyone, even WOLF SPIDERS deserve a safe work environment. Wear a turtleneck or something. Maybe you’re thinking, it’s fine, WOLF SPIDERS don’t bite, and if they do, they’re not venomous, but they do bite and they are venomous, but maybe it all works out if you let them use you for higher ground.
I hope this doesn’t ruin your day, but Baker’s Chocolate wasn’t created for bakers, it’s chocolate originally produced in Dorchester, MA by John Hannon with his partner Dr. James Baker. Hannon sailed to the West Indies in 1779 and never came back, so Dr. Baker changed the name to the Baker Chocolate Company.
Additionally, German Chocolate Cake isn’t German. A homemaker from Dallas sent the Dallas Morning News a recipe for German’s Chocolate Cake made with a sweet baking chocolate invented by Samuel German in 1853. (I’m not including the name of the homemaker because she’s listed everywhere as Mrs. Husband’s Name and YOU KNOW that guy never picked up a sifter to help.) I personally don’t believe coconut or nuts belong in dessert so I don’t fw German Chocolate Cake if I can help it.
Here’s where you’re about to get really mad. Here’s where you’re about to blow a gasket. Here’s the thing what will make you absolutely furious like me. Guess which company’s sales increased 73% after the popularization of German Chocolate Cake as a thing Americans were making regularly? That’s right, it’s Baker’s Chocolate Company, Samuel German’s employer in 1853 when he invented the chocolate. (via @parsnip.bsky.social)
According to Food & Wine, McDonald’s will be selling half gallon jugs of McRib sauce alongside the annual limited release of the McRib sandwich.
The sauce goes on sale November 25th at 10AM and I will surely forget to buy some then, but if I don’t, I’ll make Jason some McRib sauce ice cream in December. We’ve already made pickle and Frank’s Red Hot ice cream so why not.
People like stealing fontina fortunes worth of cheese because it’s easy to sell on the black market and is hard to track. The mascarpone market probably doesn’t even have to be super dark for creamy criminals to launder their pinched cheese through conventional cheddar channels thus allowing the roquefort rapscallions to bathe forever in ill-gotten ricotta riches. Cheese is the most stolen food in the world, so let’s read about some cheese crime, shall we? (Unrelated, cheese fire.)
This could go on and on. By the way, did you know cheese.com has a whole list with nothin’ on it but different cheeses? You could just look at different cheeses ALL DAY!
The food documentary series Chef’s Table returns with chefs & culinary experts from Italy, China, Cambodia, and the US who all work in the medium of the noodle. Here’s the trailer for Chef’s Table: Noodles:
Occlupanids are generally found as parasitoids on bagged pastries in supermarkets, hardware stores, and other large commercial establishments. Their fascinating and complex life cycle is unfortunately severely under-researched. What is known is that they take nourishment from the plastic sacs that surround the bagged product, not the product itself, as was previously thought. Notable exceptions to this habit are those living off rubber bands and on analog watch hands.
In most species, they often situate themselves toward the center of the plastic bag, holding in the contents. This leads to speculation that the relationship may be more symbiotic than purely parasitic.
I admire the commitment to the bit, but HORG appears not to have studied the one actual bit of bread tag taxonomy that could actually be useful: whether the color of the bread tag indicates when the bread was baked. (via kelli anderson)
The Howtown crew explains how food manufacturers, the USDA, and food label services figure out how many calories are in the foods we eat. Spoiler: it’s not just a matter of burning food to see how much energy is produced — different nutrients are absorbed more or less efficiently by the body so you need to measure the output and compare it to the input.
And don’t forget to check the comments for Joss Fong’s banana oat blobs.
Using methods generally employed to track the evolution and spread of plants and animals over time and across geography, this paper aims to provide a scientific classification of Italian stuffed pasta shapes (pasta ripiena) and how they spread and evolved across what is now Italy. From the abstract of ‘Evolution of the Italian pasta ripiena: the first steps toward a scientific classification’:
Our results showed that, with the exception of the Sardinian Culurgiones, all the other pasta ripiena from Italy likely had a single origin in the northern parts of the country. Based on the proposed evolutionary hypothesis, the Italian pasta are divided into two main clades: a ravioli clade mainly characterized by a more or less flat shape, and a tortellini clade mainly characterized by a three-dimensional shape.
The introduction provides a short history lesson in stuffed foods:
The Italian pasta ripiena are part of a large family of Eurasian stuffed dumplings that similarly come in a wide array of shapes and forms and are known by many different names, for example, the Turkish manti, German maultaschen, Polish pierogi, Jewish kreplach, Russian pelmeni, Georgian khinkali, Tibetan momo, Chinese wonton, Japanese gyoza, and many others. It is unclear whether all dumplings had a singular origin or evolved independently, or how the remarkable diversity observed in Italy is related to the greater variation present in Eurasia. Based on linguistic similarities, it has been speculated that stuffed dumplings were probably first invented in the Middle East and subsequently spread across Eurasia by Turkic and Iranian peoples. Dumplings were known in China during the Han Empire (206 BC-220 AD), where archaeological remnants of noodles from this period were also discovered; however, in the same era, pasta had not yet made its appearance in Europe. The Italian ravioli have also been suggested to be a descendent of the Greek manti.
And then moves on to stuffed pastas native to Italy:
In Italy, ravioli are probably the oldest historically documented filled pasta, even though the early iterations of this dish evidently did not include the enclosing pasta casing. Between the 12 and 13 centuries, a settler from Savona agreed to provide his master with a lunch for three people made of bread, wine, meat and ravioli, during the grape harvest. Tortelli and agnolotti first appeared in literature much later. However, the origins of the iconic tortellini are controversial. The long-standing historical feud between the cities of Bologna and Modena over who invented the tortellini was symbolically settled at the end of the 19 century by Bolognese poet and satirist Giuseppe Ceri, who, in his poem “L’ombelico di Venere” (the navel of Venus), declared Castelfranco Emilia, a town halfway between the two cities, to be the birthplace of tortellini. According to this legend, one day, while Venus, Mars and Bacchus were visiting a tavern in Castelfranco Emilia, the innkeeper inadvertently caught Venus in a state of undress and was so astonished at the sight of the goddess’ navel that he ran into the kitchen and created tortellini in her honor. Clearly, a product as perfect as tortellini could be inspired only by Venus, the goddess of beauty.
Kintsugi is the Japanese practice of mending broken pottery repair with visible “scars”. A creative agency working for Oreos came up with the clever idea of selling tubes of Oreo frosting so that people could repair their broken Oreos in the same way.
Oreo’s ‘Kintsugi’ marketing campaign addresses the common issue of broken cookies by drawing inspiration from the ancient Japanese art. Kintsugi, which means “golden joinery,” is the practice of repairing broken pottery by mending the areas of breakage with lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum. This technique not only restores the item but also adds beauty and value to the breakage.
Consumers often find broken Oreo cookies to be a disappointment, viewing them as imperfect and less enjoyable. However, the philosophy of Kintsugi teaches that there is beauty in imperfections and that items can become more valuable when repaired thoughtfully.
Gaggan, in Bangkok, was named not just the ninth-best restaurant in the world but the single best restaurant in Asia. The chef, Gaggan Anand, greets diners at his 14-seat table facing the kitchen with “Welcome to my …” completing the sentence with a term, meaning a chaotic situation, that will not be appearing in The New York Times. [The word is shitshow. Or clusterfuck. Or shitstorm. Any of which should be printed in The New York Times because it’s a fact relevant to a story. This writing around swearing has gotten as ridiculous as these restaurants. -ed]
What follows are about two dozen dishes organized in two acts (with intermission). The menu is written in emojis. Each bite is accompanied by a long story from Mr. Anand that may or may not be true. The furrowed white orb splotched with what appears to be blood, he claims, is the brain of a rat raised in a basement feedlot.
Brains are big in other restaurants on the list. Rasmus Munk, chef of the eighth-best restaurant in the world, Alchemist, in Copenhagen, pipes a mousse of lamb brains and foie gras into a bleached lamb skull, then garnishes it with ants and roasted mealworms. Another of the 50 or so courses — the restaurant calls them “impressions” — lurks inside the cavity of a realistic, life-size model of a man’s head with the top of the cranium removed.
I love going to restaurants and putting myself in their talented hands1 but just reading about some of these high-wire acts dressed up as restaurants leaves me cold. (thx, yen)
I’m not just talking about tasting menus here… In many places, you can ask your server what their favorites are, if there are dishes that the chef is particularly proud of, or which special is 🔥🔥🔥 tonight, and order those. If you’re a regular, you can just ask the kitchen to surprise you.↩
The opportunity to consume frosty drinks and desserts opened up an entirely new vocabulary of sensation. Some found the cold shocking at first. “Lord! How I have seen the people splutter when they’ve tasted them for the first time,” a London ice-cream vender recalled in 1851. One customer — “a young Irish fellow” — took a spoonful, stood statue still, and then “roared out, ‘Jasus! I am kilt. The coald shivers is on to me.’” The earliest recorded description of brain freeze seems to have been published by Patrick Brydone, a Scotsman travelling in Sicily in the seventeen-seventies. The victim was a British naval officer who took a big bite of ice cream at a formal dinner. “At first he only looked grave, and blew up his cheeks to give it more room,” Brydone wrote. “The violence of the cold soon getting the better of his patience, he began to tumble it about from side to side in his mouth, his eyes rushing out of water.” Shortly thereafter, he spat it out “with a horrid oath” and, in his outrage, had to be restrained from beating the nearest servant.
And I wasn’t aware of this:
Leaving aside its suggestion that one serve “Molded Lamb with Fruit,” Kelvinator wasn’t wrong to claim that refrigeration could make leftovers taste better. After all, chemical reactions continue in the cold, albeit slowly, and some of them improve flavor. Several years ago, Cook’s Illustrated investigated this process by serving fresh bowls of beef chili, in addition to French onion, creamy tomato, and black-bean soups, alongside portions that had been made two days earlier. Testers preferred the fridge-aged versions, describing them as “sweeter,” “more robust-tasting,” and “well-rounded.”
Well this is delightful: Vanity Fair set up Ayo Edebiri with a selection of personal beefs and several gavels (and maybe there’s a meat tenderizer in there, I don’t know), she listened to both sides of each argument, and then passed judgment. Listen until at least the second case before you pass judgment on watching the whole thing (verdict: you should)…it involves someone stealing a french fry from a room service tray.
I don’t know how to tell you this…but your father has murdered people before. There are bodies in the ground. ‘I don’t know what she’s so upset about. It’s a victimless crime. Nobody’s gonna miss that fry. Nobody’s gonna miss THAT KID!’
Is the periodic table yummy? Well, it depends on the element. But if you’ve ever wondered if a little taste of xenon or iridium would do you any harm, this periodic table is for you.
I’m really interested in fruit, especially ones I’ve never tried, and I’ve loved following Florida Fruit Geek, aka Craig Hepworth, on Instagram, where he posts photos and info about the unusual fruits he grows (in Gainesville). Hepworth recently hosted a “fruitluck,” where gatherers shared…
…half a dozen varieties of loquat, four kinds of mulberry, carambola/starfruit, sweet oranges, Seville oranges, grapefruit, jackfruit, guava, grapes, apples, sweet tamarind, dried jujube, strawberries, blueberries, Mysore bananas, Rajapuri bananas, Cavendish bananas, green coconuts, homegrown pineapple, dried carambola, tangerine, dried sweet cherries, pomelo and more.
I’d love to have a fruitluck! Maybe I need to make a trip to Florida.
The concept of roasting as a general vegetable technique seems to have originated in a famous Italian restaurant: Johanne Killeen and George Germon’s Al Forno, which opened in Providence, Rhode Island, in 1980. Forno means oven in Italian, and the critically acclaimed chefs made ample use of that apparatus.
This is a fact, which makes me feel old because I lived through it and makes me feel young because I lived through it. Old because I can remember a time before roasting vegetables was how anyone who is anyone prepared them, and young because what other cooking techniques are we going to invent during my lifetime? It’s a little like watching cities develop. For example, I used to work down in Fort Point in Boston and there were a ton of parking lots and then the guy who owned the parking lots sold them, bought the Los Angeles Baseball Dodgers and those parking lots have become a huge and glitzy neighborhood (?) with condos and offices and commerce
As another aside, there’s a 1993 NYT article quoted in the Slate piece and I’m quoting the first three sentences here for reasons I will expound upon afterward.
Roasting wafts through the senses. In culinary terms it is freighted with mouthwatering aroma, comforting warmth, a crisping sizzle and anticipated succulence. And lately it is more appreciated than ever.
Anyway, the use of “freighted” just reminded me of the Emily Dickinson quotation, “The freight should be proportioned to the groove” from the poem That Love is all there is. It’s a delightful poem and you can read it in about 3 seconds and think about it for the rest of your life.
A couple of years ago, frustrated by a takeout Italian sandwich with unevenly distributed fillings, I had a wonderful, life-changing idea: chopped sandwiches. It’s like what you get at those chopped salad places but instead of chopping up all the ingredients and putting them into a bowl, you put them between two slices of bread or in a hoagie roll or whatever. That way, you get all of the elements of the sandwich — cheese, tomato, lettuce, dressing/mayo, onion, whatever — in every single bite. Yum.
Chopwiches already exist — tuna salad, Philly cheesesteaks, chicken salad, egg salad — and they’re amazing because you get all of their deliciousness in every bite. I just wanted to extend that enjoyment to many other types of sandwich: banh mi, BLT, Italian sub, gyro, turkey club, and even the humble ham and cheese. Great idea, right? I wanted to open a chopped sandwich restaurant and change the world.
Then I made a mistake: I told people about my idea. And every single one of them laughed at me. To my face! My friends, my kids, everyone. It was a heartbreaking moment but as an entrepreneur, I knew I had to persist and follow my dream. Like Wayne Gretzky said: “First they ignore you, then they laugh at you, then they fight you, then you win.” And I was going to win.
But the whole thing became a joke for awhile and I had to play along, biding my time. My friend Caroline came up with a name: Choppke’s. We brainstormed slogans and things the sandwich artists could say to patrons:
Choppke’s. You’ll Love It to Bits.
Welcome to Choppke’s, your wich is my command.
As you wich. [In response to any customer query.]
Welcome to Choppke’s! What can I get chopping for you today?
I asked ChatGPT to come up with a logo; this was my favorite one:
When (not if!) Choppke’s gets huge, there’s gonna be a corporate jet, so I wanted to see what that was going to look like:
Caroline got me a custom-made hat for my birthday (actual hat and actual dopey human wearing it, not AI-generated):
Ever so slowly, I was winning her over, despite every fiber of her being telling her that a chopped sandwich restaurant was the stupidest idea she’d ever heard and causing her to question the entire basis of our relationship. And if I could get one person on my side, a person who thought I was an idiot, the rest of the world would surely follow. Ideas + persistence = manifesting your reality.
I think it was the legendary management guru Michael Scott (quoting IBM founder Steve Jobs) who said “skate to where the puck is going to be, not where it has been”. Well, my long chopped sandwich skate has finally paid off — the puck is here! According to The Takeout, the chopped sandwich is all the rage on TikTok!
If you enjoy a good chopped salad, the kind where every component (veggies, cheese, protein) is chopped into uniformly forkable bites and then tossed in dressing, you’re halfway to a chopped salad sandwich, sometimes just referred to as a chopped sandwich. It’s simply any version of that same salad, just stuffed into a hinge-cut roll. The shape of the roll is crucial, as it prevents all the fillings from falling out the sides.
Yes, exactly. Wow. I’ve never felt so seen. What’s that smell? No, not a delicious chopped sandwich…it’s the sweet smell of V-I-N-D-I-C-A-T-I-O-N.
Nearly any filling is a candidate for a chopped salad sandwich, and that’s the part that appeals most to TikTok users. Beyond the go-to Italian sub, you can create chopped salad sandwiches that contain Vietnamese banh mi ingredients, wedge salads, Caesar salads, whatever your heart desires. And that versatility means it’s a goldmine for social media content.
A goldmine! You’re goddamn right it’s a goldmine! The time is right, the market is PRIMED, Gen Z is on board, it’s now or never. We’re gonna do it, Choppke’s is a go!
Now, just to properly calibrate expectations, I haven’t looked at any commercial real estate nor have I made a single chopped sandwich of any kind at home to test out whether they actually taste better or not because I just know they will. What I do have is the idea (which is amazing, as we’ve agreed), a janky misspelled AI logo, and a dream.
Right now, you’re probably wondering how you can help, how you can climb aboard this rocket ship, how you can secure a place in a better future for us all. Well, I’m happy to announce that you can join the movement for better, tastier sandwiches today by zhuzhing yourself up with an exclusive Choppke’s t-shirt!
All proceeds from shirt sales will be pumped into developing the Choppke’s franchise (or, if that doesn’t work out, buying myself sandwiches from the local deli). Thanks for the support everyone — even though I could have done it without you, I definitely couldn’t have done it without you.
I thought for sure that I’d previously written about the secret jelly packet & pickle-based system that chefs at the Waffle House use to “store” all of the orders that come in for food during service, but I can’t find it in the archive. But no matter — the Waffle House training video above runs us through their whole system, including a detailed explanation of their Magic Marker System, which involves zero actual Magic Markers and instead is about arranging condiment packets and other items on plates in a code:
Now let’s talk about our breakfast sandwiches. Just like omelettes, these sandwiches have the same four positions: ham, sausage, bacon, and plain. To mark a sandwich, place two pickle slices in the appropriate position. Here you can see I put two pickle slices in the number three position, which tells me this is a bacon sandwich. If I add a slice of cheese to the plate, I know this is a bacon cheese sandwich. To make this a bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich, I’ll add this right side up mayo packet to the right side of the plate.
Don’t let this mayo pack confuse you - as long as you see two pickles on the plate you know this is a sandwich. When marking a sandwich, this mayo packet and pickles means a sandwich with eggs. If a customer wanted the eggs on their sandwich to be scrambled instead of the standard over well egg, I’d move this mayo pack down to the bottom of the plate to show that the egg is scrambled.
That sounds pretty complicated and they’ve likely faced pressure to change the system over the years, but I bet it works really well in practice and cuts down on errors. I love stuff like this…seeing how different organizations manage their core processes, especially in non-conventional ways. See also Nightclub Hand Signals and The Quarryman’s Symphony. (thx, erik)
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