Tamale fever

I've been missing Mexico quite a bit these days. One of the things I miss most about my time living there was the ritual of gorging myself on fresh tamales every Friday. (Another was hitting the dancefloor at my favorite salsa club in San Angel.) The only somewhat self-respecting tamale I have identified in the past five years living in DC has been at Trader Joe's. I know. I've spent the better part of the past three and a half years intensively scouring Columbia Heights and Adams Morgan -- DC's Little Mexico -- and alas, I have yet to find a decent tamale (and only one semi-decent salsa club). But last night during another volunteer shift at CulinAerie, under the capable guidance of Chef Eliza Gonzales, I made my first successful corn and pepper tamale. Delicious. And as we had some leftover ingredients from this last class before Thanksgiving break, Eliza sent me home with a large sack of tamale dough and some queso blanco so that I could practice at home. (She was also good enough to pose with the tamales before we scarfed them, along with the chili rubbed beef fillets and a to-die-for warm pumpkin salad.)



So what do you think I did this morning? I biked on over to a latino grocery store I'd seen on 11th Street and bought myself some poblano peppers and frozen banana leaves and got cracking. Sure, not all local ingredients, and some were most likely not sustainably produced -- I mean, come on, some baby seals must've been clubbed somewhere along the line in order for me to be able to buy banana leaves shipped from the Philippines for $1.49 a package -- but as I've mentioned, I'm not a purist. For the record, I would've paid extra for fair trade certified, organic banana leaves. (You know, a brand with the seal of approval. Har, har.)



To the beat of my most beloved salsa tunes pulsing from the speakers, and with the aroma of sweet banana and savory roasting peppers wafting through the air, I found myself quite literally dancing around the kitchen. In line with the Mexican sensibility of improvisation, and in light of my rather sparse food funds these days, I fiddled with Eliza's recipe a little bit, sauteing some shallots and sweet potatoes I had around with strips of the roasted poblanos for the filling.



Toss in a little crumbled cheese...



roll 'em up... stuff 'em in a pot of steaming water... cover it with some kitchen towels... and an hour later: viola!



Dad and Uncle Teddy and I had some this afternoon -- how convenient that they happened to stop by around lunchtime -- and Dad gave them the thumbs up. I've just wrapped the remaining tamales in banana leaves and stuffed them into a ziploc bag in the freezer. The dozen or so remaining should keep me satisfied for at least... a week.



Want to learn to make your own tamales? Swing by my place in a couple of weeks with some fillings and we'll get cooking. Or better yet, sign up for a class with Eliza (who teaches around town at both CulinAerie and Sur la Table). She even has an adaptation to accommodate vegetarians (or those otherwise opposed to the flagrant but delicious use of lard and chicken broth the more traditional recipe entails).

Not just surviving, but thriving

So in case you're wondering, I'm still looking for gainful employment. I've applied for a few promising positions, but nothing's come through yet. (I know: who wouldn't hire me on the spot? Thanks, mom.) In the midst of cover letter writing and tomato canning -- yes, yes, I'll get a post up about that soon -- and post-apartment-flood repairing I've continued to volunteer at a fair number of impressive programs in the DC area. In addition to a few shifts at CulinAerie, this has meant a return to Clagett Farm (where this time I weeded a gigantic patch of sweet potato plants and first heard of the wonderful idea of sauteing sweet potato greens), a workday at City Blossoms' Marion Street garden (which I left with enough pesto-destined basil strapped onto Ollie that I half expected us to topple over at a stop sign on the ride home), and a morning meal shift at Thrive DC (where I found myself not in the kitchen as I'd expected but instead handing out towels and bandying about my Spanish quite a bit). Handing out towels? Yes, folks, I do sometimes find myself doing things that don't directly involve food... or do I?

I'd first heard of Thrive DC from Mike -- a friend of mine who used to work with Alicia, the organization's executive director, on gun control issues a few years back. During an initial meeting with Alicia I heard of a few openings for assistant chefs amid the soup kitchen's restructuring. I later attended a volunteer orientation and signed up for a kitchen shift that brought me back to the organization's church basement location from 8-11am yesterday. (Yes, I, self-proclaimed night owl, chose a morning shift. Once I got a cup of coffee in me, things went pretty smoothly, actually.)

Thrive DC centers around shared daily meals for the homeless, but the food is a means as much as an end, providing an opportunity for other critical services like showers, laundry, counseling, computer access, and friendly conversation. (Food as a means for social gathering. Hmmm, I do believe I've mentioned the importance of this on the blog before. Yes, maybe once or twice.) My initial interest was in the kitchen operation, but since I spoke Spanish I was recruited to help out at the laundry/shower station instead. While registering people for bathing shifts and handing out towels and toiletries, I came to understand that Thrive DC is about so much more than hot meals. It's about relationship building and reaching out to help the whole person (not just his or her tummy, though with regular donations of delicious prepared food from Pret a Manger, their tummies are sometimes quite happy). In addition to the regular appearance of housing advisers, counselors, mental health specialists, nutritionists, job coaches, and Veterans Affairs representatives, there are activities each evening ranging from group therapy sessions to movie nights to yoga. There is some talk of an art therapy component being developed, modeled after a program at Miriam's Kitchen -- another partner in the DC-area homelessness and food justice arena. I was impressed by this model of collaboration, this program so successfully drawing on the diverse strengths and interests of its staff, partners, and volunteers.

There are many ways to get involved with Thrive DC. They welcome individual and group volunteers in the cafeteria and the computer lab. You can make a traditional donation (money) or a less traditional one (toiletries, food, professional skills). You can help the small but devoted staff develop additional activities or facilitate connections with other partners around town. I am myself trying to figure out if there just might be a way to harness some of the excess food from local farms and farmers' markets for use in the kitchen that serves around 150 meals each day. And I have already (repeatedly) expressed my willingness to be a recipe consultant. What can you do with 50 pounds of donated sweet corn? How can you prepare 10 crates of tomatoes as part of something simple, nutritious, and delicious? Call me.

Hmmm. A recipe consultant. Know any paying jobs along those lines?

Knife envy

I love a good chef's knife. Keep in mind that the one decent piece of cutlery I own -- a scalloped 5" Henkel given to me by my cousin and her husband on my 30th birthday -- traveled with me around the country wrapped in bubble wrap inside my foodstuffs pannier (when it wasn't being used to dice potatoes for the beercan stove dinners or being clutched next to my sleeping bag as I listened to odd animal noises outside my tent). This implement is not to be confused with the multi-tool I used to stab myself in the hand, though that was also surprisingly sharp....



I've had an opportunity to play with some really nice knives lately. A week ago Thursday I had my first volunteer shift at a lovely, local recreational cooking school. It was a Knife Know How class given by one of CulinAerie's personable founders, principal chef Susan Holt. While moving about the tables and assisting the group of 30 aspiring cooks, I couldn't help marveling at Susan's dexterity with the various sharp implements as she demonstrated how to hold and to use each. (And, okay, I was a little giddy being so near a cache of such perfectly weighted, sharp-enough-to-cut-through-tomatoes-like-butter knives.) Susan spoke about the uses for different knives as well as which ones make sense to spend money on: invest in a good chef's knife, no need to spend much on paring knives since they get lost pretty often (and go dull anyway if you have them for any length of time). The class was pretty informative, actually. All these years in the kitchen and here I finally learn how to quickly and neatly carve a whole chicken into "a little something niiiiice" for the grill or saute pan. Could've used these skills when my brother proposed deboning an entire turkey, duck, and chicken to make a Thanksgiving turducken a few years back. Better late than never, I suppose.

At the end of the 3-hour class, during which I tried my darndest not to simply take the knife from hesitant students' hands and show them how to confidently dice an onion -- "just... hold it a little... like... um... no... no... almost... just... a little more tilted... uh huh... no, turn your wrist... um... watch your fingers... here, let me... okay, no... just... yes, like that... kind of... you'll get it" -- Susan whipped up a meal for the group of volunteers as we picked up pots and pans and wiped down the tables. The chicken in mustard cream sauce was simply divine atop a bed of rice, rounded out with a glass of wine, crusty french bread, and some sweet cantaloupe. A girl could get used to this.

I went back for more. This Wednesday I had my second shift, this time with Susan Watterson, the school's other founder. Equally impressive and dry-witted, Susan (W) led a corporate group through a scrumptious corn chowder, pan-roasted red snapper (with a parsley-garlic sauce so outrageously delicious I would bathe in it if I could, though as it is I ate enough that it's probably leaking out of my pores two days later anyway), orange saffron basmati, julienned veggie "noodles", and from-scratch strawberry shortcake. Again, the shift ended with a shared meal with the group of volunteer assistants. A little wine, a little conversation, a little more whipped cream, a little more wine... I took the bus home with a full belly and a happy heart. And some new recipe ideas. Whoever thought to finish rice in the oven? Brilliant.



You see, I love to cook. But there is something about teaching other people how to prepare a nice meal for themselves that is so immensely satisfying. The proud presentation of a thickened, well-seasoned sauce or just-browned, roasted chicken thigh. The shy smile when a tomato is perfectly seeded and diced for the first time. The discovery of a new flavor or texture. The realization that anyone can cook. (Kind of reminds me of Gusteau in Ratatouille.) Sure, CulinAerie is a for-profit business, but it's not just about money. They're making good food accessible to the masses, offering one-time classes and series, corporate sessions and private group workshops. Those who can pay, do. Those who can't still have a shot. Something they don't crow about on their website (so I feel compelled to mention) is the fact that they allow youth education programs like Common Threads to use their facilities now and again. They also offer food lovers of limited financial means (like me) the opportunity to observe amazing courses like Sushi 101 and Regional French Cooking by serving as chef's assistants.

Want to volunteer CulinAerie? Call the school and they'll send you an application and list of open spots. Maybe I'll see you there. Just don't edge me out of the Intro to Bread Baking class. I have a (dull) bread knife, and I'm not afraid to use it....