Cake and Commerce

Buying Machetes in San Salvador

Ethan bargains with a street vendor for his & hers machetes. Ah, sweet sweet romance.

For $10, a family can enjoy a large meal in the park

At a small park northwest of San Salvador in a village known for its shamans.

Cafe Ataco - Processor of green coffee Beans in El Salvador

Cafe Ataco is a pretty typical wet processor of green beans. Privately owned, Ataco processes coffee cherries into dried green coffee beans for many local Fincas, where the coffee is actually grown and picked.

Here are what coffee cherries look like (there are two 'beans' per cherry in this variety of arabica)

We visited at the end of the season, so there was only a small amount of processing going on. Mostly drying. The trucks dropping off their loads of cherries were long gone.

So use your imagination. I'm not going to describe the process (mainly because I can't remember all of the steps and which photo goes with which step and it is done so very well here.) but rather I'm just going to share some photos from our visit. In the next entry down, I include photos of all the equipment - antique, worn, and rather typical, as one of my colleagues explained.

Once the truck carrying in the cherries has been weighed, the cherries are dropped into a bin and flushed with water - water that carries them through the process of pulping (removing the cherry pulp). The bins are made of concrete. Each bin has a number, so the beans from each finca can be kept separate throughout the process. Ataco processes both organic and conventionally farmed beans.

Here the pulped beans are set out to dry for a few weeks. Rain would damage the drying beans, so this is done during the dry season.

The dark spots are from beans that were not fully pulped. These will be sorted and discarded.

Every drying lot has a sign beside it to show where it is from, lot number, quality:

After a little more drying and sorting, the beans end up on a long conveyor belt. Women sort out the 'bad' beans - quakers, broken beans, etc. According to Ataca, different countries (and buyers) have different standards for defects. One Italian company apparently accepts up to 6% defective beans. An American company only accepts 1%. When they sort the beans, they keep this in mind.

The beans are then bagged and put into storage. Buyers will sample from the sacks. And decide whether or not to purchase the lot.

After our tour of the facility, we are served coffee roasted at Ataco. It is brewed in the traditional way:

It is the first truly delicious cup of coffee I have during my visit. Apparently the best beans are exported. Most of the stuff consumed in El Salvador is what the Europeans and Americans don't want.

We then go to see ponies that are kept on the property. One of them bites me. Stay away from the one on the left! Blood pony!

Antique Coffee processing equipment at Cafe Ataco in El Salvador

More pictures from Cafe Ataco, high in the hills northwest of San Salvador. Their claim to fame? Starbucks buys green beans from them.

Many layers of paint coat this piece.

A wood-fired drying kiln

Gears:

I'm not sure what this one does.

Made in New York and Illinois

This batch roaster does 250 lbs at a time:

A "Granulizer" for grinding coffee. Bad picture, but interesting piece of equipment:

What I learned about raw cashews in El Salvador

Never ever ever eat them. Or open them.

Let me back up for a moment. I don't mean cashews that are sold in the store as "raw" -- those are fine. In actuality, they are not raw, they are heated to break down the toxins in the nut, in the skin - how anyone ever figured out the nuts are edible once treated is beyond me. Did I just say toxins? Oh yes, toxins, specifically toxic oil. Called Cardol oil. Which is an urushiol, a catch-all for oils derived from members of the Family Anacardiaceae, the most famous members being poison ivy, poison oak, and poison sumac. Less famous urushiols include mango skin and cashews. That's right, cashews.

Maranon, the fruit of the cashew (check out my link above or the photo below to see what it looks like) is extremely tannic except for its 24 hours of ripeness, during which it must be eaten (or used for confections, ice creams, sorbets, etc) or it starts to ferment. Which may not be a bad thing. Raw, it simply tastes tannic.

But the nut is an entirely different story. Ethan was served a drink presumably made with some maranon juice, and garnished with a maranon (sorry this is out of focus, it was dark and I was a little out of sorts). The cashew is the green thing on top. Or rather, that's the cashew pod:

So now you know what the fruit and nut look like. Ethan decided he would try to open it. When he couldn't (he attempted the job with his teeth) I thought I'd flex my jaw muscles and open it up myself. Which I did:

Now looking at this photo I realize I can see the glistening oil just under the skin that caused my mouth to almost immediately burst into a painful sensation I can only describe as what eating battery acid must be like.  Dinner, which arrived shortly after that, was painful for both of us - we both succeeded in getting oil on ourselves. In our mouths. Ethan deadened his pain with alcohol. I chose to freeze mine out with a non-alcoholic watermelon freeze. I could barely taste my food for the rest of the night. But I think nothing of it as soon as the sensation goes away, 16 hours later.

Flash forward two days later. I'm back in the US, sitting at home, when I notice that something is amiss on my face. All around my mouth I've broken out. I look in the mirror. My entire face is broken out in something that looks like a cross between poison ivy and excema. The next day I google cashews. I freak out. My face! My precious face!

After failing to get an appointment with my dermatologist, I called my internist. Or rather I spoke with my internist's nurse. Who took detailed notes and, after speaking with my doctor, recommended that I not come in unless it got worse. In the meantime? Hydrocortisone 1%, benadryl, and no touching!

I'll never ever ever do that again. No cashews!

Comunidad Benedicion de Dios, San Salvador

On our second day in El Salvador, our co-host (and El Mundo and Miami Herald stringer photographer) Ethan James took us to a squatter community called Comunidad Benedicion de Dios. The settlement began in December of '07 and according to Ethan it has grown dramatically every time he's gone back to see it. The squatters chose an unoccupied but privately owned parcel of land for their settlement. And that's not sitting well with the local government.

A sign, spray painted on to a bed sheet, welcomes you to the community:

Apparently the city government will not provide services to the residents of the community as it would signal that they approve of the illegal 'seizure' of the land. As a result, there is no water, no sewage - there are no services of any kind. Ethan asked a resident how she gets water. "A water truck comes and sells us water," she said.

The residents of the community didn't used to be homeless. A succession of natural disasters - earthquakes and high-power, destructive winds - destroyed the homes of many. Since the government did not provide shelter or aid, many found themselves squatting, here, in the shadows of large homes and volcanic hills.

The homes are simple. Bamboo or wood branches act as supports for cardboard boxes, plastic tarps, old vinyl billboards and what little corrugated tin residents can scare up. The lodgings are primitive at best, with dirt floors, no plumbing, and kitchens that are little more than a grill placed over a fire:

Most of the structures look like they could be easily blown down by the big bad wolf. This one has street names on it, so people can find their way around the community.

This one, perched atop a small hill, is made from old billboards, TV boxes, and bamboo:

This one has a slanted roof and a tarp secured on the roof for some rain protection. Right now is the dry season, so residents don't have to worry about rain. Come May, the rains come at night, likely destroying much of the structural integrity of the homes.

In front of the community's "store", a little boy helps his grandmother find choice branches. The bamboo is long gone.

This house even has an address:

This house uses the side of a hill for its fourth wall:

All of the cardboard comes from grocery stores - grocery stores selling products that residents can likely not afford.

The community does have a president, who is their de facto spokesman. Ethan took his picture and told him he would come back in a few days to interview him. I'm sure Ethan took some incredible photos - if I can find his work, I'll link it here.

The president is the man with the spray-painted dot on his hat:

While we were there, the ice cream man came by with his cart. As we walked by he was thronged by young girls, clamoring for an icy treat. They laughed at us as we walked down the 'street' and giggled as they ran by us later.

For other minor necessities, there is a small store in the community. This one sells bread - both the sweet and not-sweet versions.

We left in a hurry after we noticed a man eying us from a hilltop. As we walked toward our car, Ethan noticed a photographer from another paper, coming in with his camera to take shots of the community. Scooped - by just a few days. I left feeling terrible. These people were desperately poor and had no resources to provide the most basic of basic necessities for themselves - shelter. And here we were, rich Americans (relatively), taking pictures of their homes - in my case for my blog - and then going back to our lush compound where we had everything. The poverty is staggering.

Solace at the main cathedral in San Salvador

The coconut sorbetto vendor, San Salvador

It was a hot afternoon and Ethan spotted the vendor selling coconut sorbetto, a dairy free coconut treat made with coconut milk. Two scoops, raspberry honey, in a small hand-made red cone. Heaven.

The Beach at Sunset, El Salvador

If I didn't include this, I'd have my tourist card revoked.

Making Pupusas in El Salvador with Marielena

Marielena, who works for Bess and Ethan, showed us how to make pupusas our second morning in El Salvador. Pupusas are one of my favorite uses of masa - basically they're extremely thick tortillas filled with a combination of cheese, meat and/or vegetables. The standard 'classic' filling is chicharron paste, made from pork and spices. They sell it pre-made, in chubs, at the supermarket:

Another key ingredient is cheese. The standard Salvadoran pupusa cheese is a fresh cheese called quesillo that has a texture somewhat similar to ricotta. It is sold in blocks or as pieces at the lacteos shops:

The last ingredient is beans. A black bean and cheese combination is available almost everywhere pupusas are sold. Marielena prepared the beans ahead of time (see above) and had them ready to be added. The black beans are pureed and thinned with water to the desired consistency. For the pupusas they are thick. For breakfast we had black beans that were almost as thin as gravy.

Marielena prepared the masa (to a much softer consistency than tortillas) ahead of time and kept a bowl of cold water out to make handing the pupusas easier.

She grabbed a small handful of the masa. Working quickly, she formed a thick 3-4" diameter cake with her hands and then filled it first with cheese, then beans:

She then folds over the pancake to form a semi-circle and pinches the ends together, using water as 'glue'. She fills in gaps with extra masa:

She then begins the process of carefully, slowly, forming the filled masa cake into a flat pancake. The seam is at the top as she presses down:

Once the pupusa is the right size, she places it on an oiled griddle to cook:

The cheese bubbles out, the tops get brown and crisp. Jenny and I both take turns making pupusas:

We fill the entire griddle up with bean and cheese pupusas:

The perfect pupusa:

I take an 'arty' food shot, just to show the thickness (yeah, right). Usually pupusas are served with a mild Salvadoran sauerkraut, which we didn't have at home. I made do with Marie Sharp's habanero sauce from Belize:

So good.

Pineapple-filled cookies in El Salvador

You have to try these! They are incredible...so tender and delicious!

El Salvador: Visit to the beachside fish market

Last week I accompanied my friend Jenny on a trip to visit her sister, a US government employee with the State Department, in El Salvador. As someone with a serious Asia bent (I spent many summers in Japan and worked in China briefly) I usually don't think about traveling south of the border, but the opportunity was too good to resist. Not only would be spending time  El Salvador with Jenny's sister, Bess, and brother-in-law, Ethan (a photographer for one of the country's two major papers, El Mundo), but we would also have the opportunity to drive around the country and visit places off the beaten track. And learn to make pupusas, the thick cheese/meat/vegetable filled tortilla that's a dietary staple.

In the three short days we zig-zagged around San Salvador - one day with a guide, one day with Ethan, one day with Ethan and Bess. We were in the hills visiting coffee plantations and processing plants, in the city visiting a shanty town, and at the beach indulging in bourgeois pursuits.

On Saturday, the last day of my visit, we stopped at a fish market. Perched high on a pier, the market features fish fresh off the boat as well as sun-dried fish. The left side of the pier is where fishing boats are lowered into the water (and raised to sell their catch). The right side, under the canopy, is where the market stalls are:

Walking to the pier takes you past a lot filled with small fishing boats:

Scattered amongst the boats are drying fish. Some are placed on sidewalks:

Some are draped over carts:

Once you enter the market, dried fish hangs everywhere:

I heard the hawkers calling out that the fish was for use in soup. In the small covered glass dishes just beyond the dried fish are multitudes of cocteles - basically Salvadoran ceviche. I ate it nearly every day I was there. I'm particularly fond of the olive oil and lime version.

Turtle eggs were sold out in the open, still covered in dirt. An old woman offered us small bags of quail eggs. Kids were selling shell necklaces. Some of the people at the market were wealthy Salvadorans, down at the beach for the day and picking up fish to bring back to the city for dinner.

Moving past the covered market and onto the main part of the pier, fishermen clean and sell fish that's just come off the boats. A few of us were a little taken aback by the quantity of ray they were cleaning:

Here, if you look to the bottom right of the photo, you can see a sac of ray roe - look for the orange orbs:

Although we saw red snapper in the market, we didn't see any in the restaurants. There wasn't much, actually:

Here's the view of the Pier looking back from the end:

In the center of the photo are two men wheeling a motor back to land for storage so it won't get stolen overnight. On the right are fishing boats, ready to be wheeled to the end of the pier and lowered into the water for fishing the next day. Apparently the boats are safe to leave out.

Leaving the pier I noticed a few signs of interest. The first one let me know clearly that carrying a handgun would land me 3-5 years in prison:

The second sign presented an onerous list of rules. What, no selling or using drugs in the market? I can't be drunk? I can't drive my car in? Huh??

Just as I left, I notice that if I really have to go, for a quarter I can be accommodated. The illustration really helped me understand exactly what they were offering:

Afterward, we headed off to a fish restaurant that apparently shakes when the tide rolls in. It's a small miracle that the place is still standing:

At the entrance of the restaurant, an oyster shucker worked his magic:

His hands are gnarled from the unprotected shucking. Sometimes he finds pearls, he says. He displays the fruit of his labor:

A stack of coconuts awaits orders. The green is carved off the top and a hole is macheted so that a straw can access the coconut water inside:

I ended up ordering rice with mixed seafood. It was delightful, even the tiny crabs that were nearly impossible to eat (they don't serve a tiny fork or a nut cracker to aid in the task). And, per Salvadoran custom, served with wedges of sliced lime:

Coffee Obsessed: I got nuthin' on Liz

Liz, aka Confused Bee, aka Chinese Broccoli, aka Kitty Empire, is the most coffee-obsessed person I know. A freelance writer, Liz spends a great deal of time in cafes, and has turned that time into opportunity to get to know baristas, coffee, and the ways and means of coffee.

Here's a photo I nabbed from her photo stream on flickr:

Liz is as obsessed with documenting coffee as she is with coffee itself. She photographs every visit, party, beverage, and trip to the coffee shop with her Canon. I'm actually envious!

To see more of Liz's photos of coffee, coffee roasters, coffee shops, baristas, latte art, coffee competitions, etc, go here: Confused Bee's Latte Art Sets. In my links you'll see a link to her blog, Chinese Broccoli. She's as good a writer as she is a photographer (perhaps better?).

Pasticceria Natalina - real Sicilian pastry in Chicago

I took these photos almost a year ago - but kept waiting to go back to take better pictures. I've been back a few more times, but none of the pictures have been quite right. Anyway....

Nick and Natalie own Pasticceria Natalina, a small bakery they opened up in the Andersenville neighborhood in late 2006 when they were 24 or 25. Natalie is self-taught...she learned everything from her Sicilian aunties and grandmother.

As I write this, she's coming home from an eating trip to Sicily. I really wanted to tag along with her...it would have been incredible.

They make their own cannolis...and fill them with a sheeps milk ricotta from Sicily. When they can't get it, they don't offer cannoli.

For the first year, Nick and Natalie worked non-stop with very little help. Natalie takes a moment to drink an espresso to try and stay awake:

Nick quit his job to join Natalie full time in the kitchen. After opening the shop, they moved out of their condo and into a small studio apartment - since they were spending most of their time at the shop, there was no need to keep a large place.

Nick finishes up some loaf cakes:

The pastries are seasonal. Nick and Natalie try to reflect seasonal availability of fruit and produce in their offerings. Here's some of what they had in their case last spring:

The lemon tiralli are my favorite cookies in Chicago.

The "California" Burrito at Humberto's in San Diego

And there it is. Carne asada and french fries. In all its food porn glory:

I had to see it for myself: The $20,000 siphon bar at Blue Bottle Cafe

The coffee world is abuzz with news of the latest coffee import: the $20,000 siphon system Blue Bottle Cafe imported from Japan. The above photo shows part of the large Siphon, which has two large bulbs:

Yes, it is most certainly a spectacle, thanks to the New York Times:

The day we visited Blue Bottle's newly opened Mint Street location, three different single-plantation Ethiopian coffees were on the siphon menu at $10 to $12 a pop. We ordered a siphon of the Golocha Cooperative. The coffee is as good as you'd expect - strong, smooth, with a fantastic finish. This is not the sort of coffee you'd even think of adding cream or sugar to - what a waste that would be.

Since there's a ton of information out on the web about Blue Bottle and siphon systems, I'll avoid the recap and just share some photos from my visit to the cafe.

The water is heated while the coffee is prepared:

The last trickle of water is sucked up into the coffee chamber (somehow I managed to miss getting a photo of the siphonator stirring the grounds as the water makes contact with the coffee):

And then the coffee starts flowing back into the bulb:

The coffee chamber is removed, and the bulb is served at the table. They pour into glass cups that sit on glass saucers, along with a small plate of salty toffee:

I really enjoyed the experience of watching the coffee made and drinking it in a half-empty cafe. If you have time to spare during a visit to San Francisco, and it is an off-peak time, this is a cup of coffee that needs to be included in your list of things that should be experienced. At least once.

Three Stone Hearth: a (r)evolution in eating

For the last 16 months, out of a crowded Berkeley kitchen leased from a social services facility, Larry Wisch (the kitchen's "Fermenter") and his partners Porsche Combash, Misa Koketsu, Jessica Prentice, and Catherine Spanger at Three Stone Hearth have been preparing and selling sustainably sourced and produced foods based on the ideas originated by Weston A. Price, the "Charles Darwin" of nutrition science. Although Price was a dentist, his interest in diverse cultures around the world (he referred to the people he studied as 'primitives'), diet and dental health led him to the conclusion that 'native' (local, pre-modern) diets, rather than modern diets, were better for the formation of the palate, teeth, and ultimately, health. In 1939 he published Nutrition and Physical Degeneration, which linked modern methods of agriculture and food production to disease. Michael Pollan has helped to introduce a generation to the teachings of Weston A Price in his books Omnivore's Dilemma and In Defense of Food, and many, including the five owners of Three Stone Hearth, are putting theory into practice.

Once a week customers line up to pick up yellow bins full of glass mason jars stuffed with rich stews and soups, lactofermented vegetables (think sauerkraut), and all nature of fermented drinks. When customers return to pick up their weekly bin, they return the used mason jars and bottles so that Three Hearth Kitchen can reuse them.

Below, jars of Russian Beef Soup are lined up just after they've been sealed in jars and cooled. Three Stone Hearth publishes a weekly menu that customers order from.

Here's the cooler, lined with jars - in a day, the cooler will be filled with the yellow bins ready for customer pick up:

In the back room, Larry keeps large, imported crocks built for fermenting vegetables - and for making fermented drinks:

A milk crate filled with coolers, including root beer coolers:

Larry shows off a jar of Kvass, a ruby red tonic made from fermented beets with a little bit of sauerkraut juice - when Larry has extra.

We stood around a table in the Black Room as Larry opened up the jar of kvass. This was the second beverage he served us - the first was a lightly fermented soda made from douglas fir essence and whey (that's what he's pouring in the photo above). Delicate with a hint of the forest, it was the perfect precursor to the salty, acidic kvass, said to be an excellent liver cleanser.

According to Larry, Three Stone Hearth's goal is not to be a large, profit-making entity (which would, invariably, force them into many of the conventions of industrial food production that they are trying to avoid), but to teach people from around the country to practice similar sustainable food purchasing, preparation and distribution (as a community supported kitchen they rely on volunteers for everything from picking up cheese to working in the kitchen). The idea is that as interest in this kind of food grows, the demand for farms that are producing truly sustainable meat, eggs, dairy, produce, and fruit will increase, and more farms will begin farming in this way, and people will have more access to good, real food - food that nourishes the soul and the body in equal measure. It is a noble goal - and something I ardently hope will happen.