it dawns on me that it is That Time of Year again, ie: the New Yorker Food Issue is out. i haven’t picked it up myself (recreational reading has been reduced to absolute zero of late), but there’s a fun podcast with Burkhard Bilger (uhh. best name?) about the piece he wrote for the issue on Sandor Katz and the world of bacteria/fermentation. probably nothing new to a lot of y’all, but it did remind me that i should make some sauerkraut soon, for mental health purposes (making life! turning the kitchen into a little ecosystem!) as much as deliciousness purposes, although those latter are clearly not to be underestimated. misunderestimated.
i have to say i’m a little underwhelmed by the cover. i mean, i don’t hate it, but it doesn’t jump out and grab me. it’s just, not unlike last year’s, a little staid. although looking now at 2009, it’s really not so bad. pleasant. mild. right?
anyway, it reminds me that i never did respond to Calvin Trillin’s wrongheadedish article on poutine from last year’s issue, not that i will now, but believes me, some day you will be in for a treat. on a related note, i may well go to the scandal-mantled New New Palace this weekend (scandal #1:New New Palace was the best y0u could come up with in homage to Nouveau Palais? [although looking at their fb page, it seems like maybe they are actually still called Nouveau Palais? i’ll have to look into this] scandal #2: no poutine!), so look forward to that review, added to the fray, which thus far seems to be neatly divided along lines of noncommunication between the punks and everyone else (if you’re not a Montréaler, i understand this will be confusing, but context will accompany the eventual piece).
so, untimely and offensive replacement of neighbourhood institution, or knee jerk-radical conservatism? i guess we’ll see.
(side note: i remember sitting last fall in the sun in a beautiful little park in Marseilles, reading “The Taste Makers” article and eating cheap good brie and baguette, thinking “fuck, i’m bored.” whenever i finish my MA and have time for a real life again, if you hear that kind of lip from me, huck a donut and a pint in me and take us to the arcade. no one should put up with my shit.)