With only a handful of private events booked over the holidays, I am truly excited to spend the last half of November and all of December being the type of mom that will happily deck the halls, joyfully bake gingerbread men and willingly send out holiday cards. It’s been a few years since I’ve had the time or patience to do any of that, and the girls really deserve it. So do I.

I can do these things this year because I have a new j-o-b, which has afforded me a solid little piece of peace in my life. My new role at Buffalo Spree, our area’s premier glossy mag, means I have more focus and breathing room on many levels in my life. And since this month is the time for giving thanks, I intend to do just that.

Above is a photo I took at the very beginning of my editorial career. It was selected as the cover image for the December issue of Buffalo Rising’s print magazine. That was in 2006. It feels like it was a hundred years ago. I had taken less than a couple of hundred photos in my life at the time. It being chosen as the cover provided me with much-needed validation. This recognition by the magazine’s designer or publisher (I don’t know which) convinced me that I innately possessed some of the abilities required to do my new job well. And, perhaps more importantly, the knowledge that if I worked hard, I could maybe even do well with the opportunity I was so fortunate to be granted. At times, it is hard to admit that we need validation, but it can be a very crucial factor in the growth process, especially when we are doing something for the first time. I will never be able to thank Buffalo Rising enough for giving me just that, even though 98% of it came from the readers and other writers I met during my time there.

I hope that I have provided similar validation for the many talented people I have encountered in my life: trainees, interns, proteges and employees. Each of them deserved it, even if it was the kind of validation that helped them see how their strengths were different than they thought, or that they may be happier in another field. So, in honor of them and the season, I am giving thanks today, as I am thankful for the peace and pleasure of my new job, appreciative of my old job for the validation and support I received while there, and infinitely grateful to the many, many people who I have had the opportunity to work for and with over the last four or five years.

What a ride it’s been. I can’t wait to see what’s next!

As our government considers the prospect of allowing genetically modified salmon to enter our food chain, I ask you to consider the benefits of consuming heritage and heirloom foods.

Today, much of the produce we consume has been bred and modified to grow faster, resist pests and fungus, survive shipping and to look its best. In many cases, this change in our food supply has forced consumers to sacrifice flavor, variety and nutrients.

For example, did you know that 96% of the commercial vegetable varieties available in 1903 are now extinct?

Or that 99% of all the turkeys raised in the U.S. are a modified breed bred for their broad breasts. While this seems like it’s not such a bad idea, their newer, bigger, better white meat breasts have left them top-heavy and unable to breed.

Several countries have outlawed GMOs, while others demand strict labeling. There is something to me that seems terribly unnatural about toying with the food that has allowed man to evolve to the point where he could toy with his food. (You can read more about the Centre for Research on Globalization’s assessment of GMOs here.)

These examples are just a drop in the bucket compared to the amount of information that is available regarding the importance of maintaining crop and breed diversity and avoiding Frankenfood. Educate yourself. Seek out heirloom fruits and veggies and heritage breed meat products. Seek to bolster these nearly extinct items through the easiest method available–  good old consumerism.

The photo above was taken at Blackman Homestead Farm. The diversity of the squashes available there is stunning. They are open to the public and have fresh cider and a variety of fresh produce available.

Photo by Christa Glennie Seychew

As a writer and a person who works alone 90% of the time, I often feel as if I am toiling away in a vacuum. Here, in the creepy company of my own thoughts, I can trick myself into thinking that I am doing Great Work. I can also convince myself that my work is terrible or, worse—worthless. Facebook, as trite and as silly as it is, is a safety net for the homebound and the self-employed–people who would otherwise go crazy. At least, that is what it has been for me. Sure you can be ambushed by a dull friend from your past you would have rather left behind, or pecked to death by “pokes” and requests for bricks or fence posts by Farmvillians, but the interaction it provides otherwise is a worthy upside.

Facebook allows me to see what other people are doing during the day, it is a virtual water cooler where I can take a mental break from my work, partaking in a paper cone of cold refreshment in the form of a little idle chatter. It is also a place where I can stay in touch with people I would otherwise not spend much time with. One of those people happens to be one of my favorite local chefs, James Roberts. Roberts is a Jedi-level chef in my mind–from how he runs his kitchen and trains his staff, to the food he prepares. Chef Roberts and I knew each other very little before becoming friends on Facebook, and there was almost no chance that we would have gotten to know one another without it, since he is a chef at a private club that falls outside of my typical editorial reach.

A few months ago, when I was knee-deep in a torrential downpour of relatively unrewarding work, Chef Roberts surprised me with a remarkable multi-course dinner. He, his sous, Joe Fenush, and his staff, went to great lengths to develop a crafty menu filled with noteworthy and deftly prepared dishes. His reasoning, as he later told me, was to thank me for all of the work that I had done. It is a reward I am still glowing from–certainly anything featuring Ivory Salmon is infinitely better than a cold and inedible trophy or a card of some sort. In order to insure that I didn’t “work” through dinner, he even fibbed and told me that cameras weren’t allowed in the club. I can’t believe I fell for that.

Needless to say,  I am terribly grateful that he and his staff not only provided me with the most peaceful and surprising meal I have had in ages, but also snapped away for my sake back in the kitchen (see above). I felt spoiled and well-taken care of (and really, really full!). I reveled in the mystery of sorting out his ingenious menu. I blush at the idea that anyone, nonetheless a staff of people, would go to such lengths for me. This act of appreciation has provided me with the necessary fuel to toil away in the dark for several more months, dreaming of another encounter with some of Chef Robert’s cooking. I will have to make due with Facebook in the interim, dawdling over the images he posts of insane prep lists, treasure chests of remarkable shipped-in ingredients, trips to his local farm and sneak peaks at cured meat products not yet ready for serving.

Photo courtesy of Chef James Roberts of Park Country Club, Williamsville, NY

Recently I ran a small series of stories online about restaurants who make things from scratch. Not the things you’d expect them to prepare themselves, but the little things, the things we’ve all become accustomed to purchasing out of a bottle, jar or can from the store. In the series we visited Buffalo restaurants making housemade ketchup, butter, tater tots and brown sugar. All of the featured items were exceptionally yummy, and in a day and age when the word “ketchup” summons the exact same flavor, texture and scent in the minds of 99.9% of Americans, it’s important to take a step back and look at how we came to accept the chemically-laden versions of these items as the standard.

Of all of these stories, my favorite featured Chef Jen Boye of the Mansion on Delaware Avenue, who makes fresh berry jam for the hotel’s guests nearly every day. I have always thought of jams and jellys as something that required the preservation process. Silly me! Chef Boye’s jam is made from fresh local berries and the fruit from the Mansion’s fig tree during the growing season. Her desire to make even the most common things a special treat for her guests reminds me of why I love chefs, especially those who are dedicated to their profession and seek perfection in all that they do, even when they think no one else may notice.

This fresh jam recipe is very forgiving, allowing you to use whichever type of berries you can most easily get your hands on. It also requires little effort and will last in your fridge for weeks if it is handled carefully. The flavor is bright, sweet and redolent of summer. It also makes toast feel like an occasion.

Chef Boye’s Fig Berry Jam
3 cups mixed berries (an equal amount of strawberries, raspberries and blackberries works well)
1 1/2 cups sugar
4 fresh figs, quartered
pinch of salt

Place above ingredients in a non-reactive saucepan and cook over medium-high heat, stirring constantly, until sugar starts to melt and berries start to release their juices. Turn heat down to medium-low and simmer for about 15 minutes, until mixture is thickened and most of the liquid has evaporated. Let cool slightly and refrigerate in an air tight container. Keeps for about 2 weeks in the refrigerator.

Photo by Christa Glennie Seychew

I swore when I added a blog to this site that I would never miss a month. After all the years in which I have produced content for the web, one of my biggest complaints has become the number of websites that add blogs to their repertoire and then do not update them in a way that is routine or regular enough to be of use to their audience. Setting the standard for myself of one post a month seemed very attainable given the insane amount of content I write each month, but alas, it felt as if June 2010 came and went in just a single breath.

Wrapping the second season of Nickel City Chef, assisting Taste of Buffalo with their chef demonstration stage, and fulfilling my writing obligations kept me busy, but the icing on the cake was the annual preparation for Feed Your Soul’s Foodie-to-Farm Tours and our new Chef & Market Lunches. The picture above is from the Foodie tour we took last September, which included a stop at Tom Tower’s farm in Niagara County. A lot of work goes into the development and coordination of these programs, but it requires double the effort to promote the series and then cross your fingers, hold your breath, pop an antacid and hope that enough tickets sell.

Here is what’s tough: they deserve to sell out. Not because we do such a stupendous job of hammering them together, but because they are an experience that changes you–really. I can’t put that on our advertising or write it in the content of our website. because it sounds like it’s part of a sermon–or worse yet, a yoga class. But these events really do change you. They are influential and yet also manage to be breathtaking and peaceful experiences. To go further, none of these descriptors even begin to cover how wonderful each of the farms are; how interesting and unique their crops and methods are, or how provocative their individual stories may be. Plus, we make sure that everyone leaves a little wiser and with a belly full of tasty food.

Anyway, I hope that some of you will join us this summer for one of these truly amazing experiences. We’ve got a few of these under our belt and have polished them so that they are nice and shiny (and delicious). You could even call the Feed Your Soul summer series “Taste of WNY”, as it is about sampling, experiencing and soaking in the earth, the air, the season and our agrarian history.

Photo by Christa Glennie Seychew

I held this asparagus up to the sky in order to improve the background of my photo, but it was also a slightly triumphant moment. Not that I have any real right to feel a sense of triumph regarding asparagus grown not by me, but by friend and farmer Daniel Oles. Still, there is something innately celebratory about that first bunch of spring asparagus. This year it’s coming in early, a good sign for our growing season if the frost stays away. For the last month I have gorged myself on ramps, where each garlicky bite tastes of renewal and earth, but as much as I enjoy them, they are an accompaniment for the most part. By comparison, asparagus is hefty and more satisfying–even when it’s pencil thin.

I am looking forward to an asparagus-filled May. I prefer my asparagus to taste of, well, asparagus, so I avoid the heavy hollandaise and butter sauces the pros of yesteryear used to smother it with. Here’s my favorite way to prepare it–and if you don’t have access to farm fresh asparagus, where it is pulled from the ground and never requires the application of heat–well, we need to do something about that. This sandwich would be ruined by asparagus that had spent even a second in a steaming pan of water, so use only the most delicate and tender stalks, fresh and at room temperature–or better yet, still warm from the sun. You won’t regret it.

Fresh Asparagus Sandwich

Good quality crusty bread

Farm fresh asparagus, raw

Fresh mayo (if you don’t have time to make it yourself, at least buy the good stuff)

Shavings of good quality Parmesan cheese (excellent substitution: ricotta insalta)

Freshly ground pepper

Boston lettuce leaves or baby Arugula

Assemble and enjoy. Another delicious way to enjoy this is to toast the bread, nix the mayo and add a freshly fried egg.

Photo by Christa Glennie Seychew

As an adult I have always disliked milk. When I was a kid I used to pour myself large glasses of it, glasses which I would down in seconds. I understand that many adult Americans tell the same tale, how a deep and ever-present thirst for milk as a child became something akin to revulsion as an adult.  Is it that our bodies and taste buds change? Or did the milk change? I think it’s a little of both. Up until recently, when I would conjure up the idea of milk, I would think of an unpleasant smell and the taste of chemicals. I didn’t ever think of having a glass of milk, I didn’t even like the idea of finishing the milk at the bottom of my cereal bowl.  But that’s changed.

Since I met Patrick Lango of White Cow Dairy and drank fresh milk in his field, I’ve been re-thinking my milk aversion. Last summer, I took a bus full of culinary students on a private farm tour, which included a stop at Hoover Dairy in Sanborn, NY. Circumstances forced the Hoover family to give up their herd many years ago, but they bring in fresh, raw milk every day, and then in small batches, pasteurize it and bottle it. It tastes like the milk I used to drink by the cup full, the milk my mom would bring home in glass bottles from the drive-thru Milk Barn in town. Even the lower fat versions of Hoover’s milk are rich and satisfying. My kids, who were not big milk drinkers, can’t get enough of it. Hoover’s chocolate milk and the seasonally-available eggnog are really delicious treats, but we generally stick to the lower fat milk for daily consumption. What was once relegated to only quenching the intense thirst brought on by a slice of chocolate cake or warm homebaked cookies is now part of our daily lives in a way that just feels good.

If you don’t have access to local, fresh milk in glass bottles at your supermarket, look to see if a local food cooperative or farmers market can help you out. When I am unable to make the drive out to Hoover Dairy, I often stop in for Byrne Dairy milk in glass bottles from my neighborhood Co-op. With dairy being at the top of our state’s list of agricultural assets, there’s no reason not to source the freshest, best milk you and your family can afford.

Photo by Christa Glennie Seychew

The hog pictured above lives at T-Meadow Farm in Lockport, NY, where owner Rich Tilyou provides it with a fantastic life. It roams and forages on open pasture, it is treated with respect, it is one of Rich’s favorites. It is a heritage breed hog, an increasingly important designation amongst farmers, chefs and foodies. Rich has done a fantastic job of almost single-handedly preserving this breed on American soil. In 1996, only two of these Gloucestershire Old Spots existed in America. Through Rich’s persistence there are now more than 200, with many, many more to come.  Preservation of any breed is important; it just so happens that Old Spots are exceptionally delicious with rich, dark meat and a copious amount of buttery, flavorful fat.

When I first met Rich he was shipping most of the hogs to Flying Pigs Farm, who in turn finishes them and sells them to top New York City restaurants.  In the last year, T-Meadow has found a market for their animals here in Western New York with chefs and foodies who are willing to buy “shares” in whole, half or quarter animals.  I was pleased to take two groups of tourists out to his farm this past fall–it is a beautiful and peaceful place that left our visitors (even the vegetarians) with a sense of respect and admiration for Rich, his farm and his animals.

On the first of this month, three of my chef friends, Steve Gedra (Bistro Europa), Bruce Wieszala and Carmelo Raimondi (Carmelo’s Restaurant) honored the non-profit I co-founded (Field & Fork Network) with a fundraiser better than any I’ve ever been to. Together the chefs concocted a nine course Snout-to-Tail feast featuring dishes like porchetta, “Offaly Good” dumplings in a cauliflower veloute and maple bacon ice cream. They are wonderful friends and talented chefs, and it was a tasty event filled with sumptuous flavors and good cheer. And, while each of these chefs deserves a world of credit for their technical skills, imagination and diligence, the event was really marked by the quality and beauty of the evening’s honored guest; one of Rich’s Old Spots.

In the Spring 2010 issue of Edible Buffalo magazine I was pleased to have the opportunity to write about the nose to tail concept, the chef-led movement of butchering on premises and the bottleneck in the local meat processing industry.  It was an honor and I am grateful for the opportunity. Spring is upon us, and I’ll be sorting out this summer’s farm tours soon. Feed Your Soul will offer one a month starting in July and running through early October. We hope you will join us; they’re great fun!

Photo by Christa Glennie Seychew

Charlie Chaplins are something of a mystery. Sponge candy is a sweet, well-recognized regional oddity, something that people who leave WNY have a tough time getting their hands on. But even as an area resident, Charlie Chaplins can be hard to track down, far more scattered than the ubiquitous sponge.

Chaplins have an equally elusive provenance. An online search led me to a South Bend, Indiana candy company that has been making “Chocolate Charlie’s” for over eighty years. The trouble is, they only make them from October to December, and their ingredients and texture are different than the version so loved here in Buffalo.

Western New York’s interpretation of this old-fashioned confection is a big block of dark or milk chocolate speckled with cashews, coconut and windows of gooey marshmallow. I was able to find odd recipes in a few places on the web; some called for a low-grade chocolate, while others substituted peanuts or pecans. None of these appear to be nearly as delicious as our homegrown variety.  Today Charlie Chaplins are most easily found at The Broadway Market or at Mike’s Candy Shop.

Photo by Christa Glennie Seychew

Simple summer berry pavlova, best served in a grassy backyard on a cool summer evening with a delicate glass of wine.  This photo is a favorite. The dessert was delicious, and the light cast by the setting sun ideal.

Perhaps a picture of a sun-dappled dessert with Australian roots is not the most appropriate choice for the inaugural post on a website belonging to a Buffalo-based food writer (and worse yet, it bears a January dateline), but what did you expect…frozen chicken wings?

Photo by Christa Glennie Seychew