COPENHAGEN, Denmark — Well lookee here: the inevitable move toward taxing unhealthful foods to raise income and discourage damaging diets has begun. Last month, Hungary, almost unnoticed, began taxing foods with high levels of fat, salt and sugar. And earlier this week, with just a little more fanfare, Denmark instituted an excise tax on foods high in saturated fat.
By our standards, the Danes aren’t even that fat: their obesity rate is about nine percent (it could be all that bike-riding), well below the European average of 15 percent and less than a third the rate of Americans. More startling, perhaps, is that the tax was introduced by a center-right government that was simply looking for new revenues. Although it met resistance, its passage was never really in doubt, because it was supported by both the right and the left. The tax was approved in a vote that ran about 90 percent in favor, and instituted at a rate of 16 Kroner (just under $3) per kilo, which will mean a half-pound of butter will rise in cost by about 15 cents.
(Read the full column here.)
From the “With friends like these, who needs…etc.” department: Here’s a look inside the American Dietetic Association’s nutrition conference/expo, where you’ll hear all about how processed foods are an important source of nutrients. Argh. And: In an attempt to undermine the FDA’s current efforts to rationalize front-of-package labeling, industry groups have devised a new campaign: change “Nutrition Keys” to “Facts Up Front.” And: Julia Moskin on the newly-formed U.S. Farmers and Ranchers Alliance, a well-funded Big-Ag group that is – incredibly – trying to position itself as an underdog in the current food climate. (Apparently they don’t like the term “Big-Ag,” but when you have $11 million to spend on public relations, and your members include the American Egg Board, the National Milk Producers Federation, and the National Pork Board, that’s what you are.)
A 30-year side-by-side study of conventional and organic agriculture concludes that organic is better by every measure. Granted, the study is from the Rodale Institute, which has a vested interest in organic coming out on top, but the numbers are believable.
By Freya Bellin
The farmers’ markets are overflowing with produce lately, bridging the gap between summer and fall. Last weekend there were still some rogue peaches, plenty of sweet tomatoes, peppers galore, and the first sightings of pumpkin.
This recipe reflects that transition perfectly. In an ode to the peppers and bright herbs of summer, this pico de gallo is fresh, spicy, and bright. The tomatillos add a sweet-tart, crunchy element. I couldn’t resist chopping up a couple of small golden tomatoes to throw into the mix. The sweetness was a welcome addition, if you have some extra lying around. Meanwhile, the cumin dusted sweet potato chips are a preview of fall’s warm, sweet flavors. The thinner you can slice them, the better (I got some help from my food processor), but if they’re on the thick side, just make sure to cook them longer. You really want to see some browning and warping before you take them out of the oven; otherwise, they won’t crisp up when they cool. These are perfect for a crowd, and way better than your average old chips and salsa. Recipe from The Food Matters Cookbook.
No doubt Marcona almonds have their own appellation, and no doubt they’re special in some wonderfully subtle way. But what makes these babies notoriously delicious – irresistible even – is not that they’re from some unique place but that they’re usually FRIED and then liberally salted. Maybe you didn’t know that. Maybe you didn’t realize you could make them yourself. I didn’t, until I thought about it. And then I found myself, after some baking project or other, with a bunch of skinned (that is, blanched) almonds, and in need of a snack for company, and everything fell into place. I used peanut oil, a couple of inches, and heated it to around 350DF. (You don’t need a thermometer for this. Drop an almond into the oil: when it sinks a bit, then floats right back to the top and starts sizzling, it’s hot enough.) Add a few at a time (I did a couple of batches of about a cup each), and cook just until they color a bit, three minutes or a little longer. Drain on paper towels, salt, cool, serve.
Re-use the oil in stir-fries, or spoon a little over cooked vegetables, or the like. It tastes pretty good. As do the almonds.
(Watch the video here.)
I’ve been making this pasta for a very long time, probably since the 1980s, since it’s derived from a Marcella Hazan recipe. It’s dead simple — one of the things that I love about it — and you can pre-cook the cauliflower a day ahead or so if you’d like. I usually do the whole thing at once: cook the cauliflower in water, scoop it out and then, later, cook the pasta in the same water. It’s already boiling, and you want the taste of the cauliflower anyway, so why not?
The cauliflower gets cooked more, in a skillet with toasted garlic, so don’t boil it to death; you do want it to be tender, though. And in the original Minimalist recipe, from 2000, I added the bread crumbs to the skillet along with the cauliflower, but since I usually add some pasta water to the skillet to keep the mixture saucy, the bread crumbs become soggy. Better, then, to stir the bread crumbs in at the very end. They should be very coarse, ideally homemade, and if they’re toasted in olive oil in a separate skillet before you toss them in, so much the better.
For a while now I’ve been cooking pasta recipes with less pasta and more sauce. That’s a very personal decision, I know, but you could easily make this dish with half a pound of pasta and two pounds of cauliflower, and it would be excellent.
(Read the recipe here.)
By Daniel Meyer
Before the Rosh Hashanah brisket ever made it out of the roasting pan the cook announced that it was “dry.” It sort of was, but tasty nonetheless, especially the fattiest bits. There was a whole tupperware left over (which had less to do with dryness than with abundance.)
The next night, with dry-ish brisket in the fridge and a can of beer twinkling next to it, I did the most sensible thing I could think of: put them together. I sauteed a small chopped onion with cumin, coriander, and a little cinnamon, then added the brisket along with chopped chipotles in adobo, (languishing in the fridge) and a few glugs of beer. That bubbled away until the beer disappeared, mostly into the brisket, I think, which became very moist.