Clark Wolf's Rants, Raves, Diatribes...and a few other Thoughts

Change we can eat

 

An exhortation to taking action in the garden, on the plate

By Clark Wolf

There's been a lot of talk in foodie circles lately about White House vegetable gardens and ad hoc committees to advise the first family about state dinner cookery. A lot of it is hooey—or wishful thinking—but much of it is heartwarming and sincere and a very good idea in these rather difficult times.

The chatter had Alice Waters forming an advisory group to suggest candidates for a new White House chef, even though the talented Cristeta Comerford, who now holds the position, is in no danger of being fired and has no plans to leave; in fact, she was confirmed in her post on Jan. 14. Those bandied about included Rick Bayless of Chicago's Frontera Grill and Topolobampo, where the Obamas have often supped, and the talented Southern chef Scott Peacock, much loved for his work with the late Edna Lewis (perhaps America's most celebrated African-American chef).

Those toques are all publicly committed to the local/regional/sustainable practices now at the top of our radar screens. The thing is, a significant focus on just this sort of good, first-family cookery and food policy has been in place since early in the Clinton years. Credit Hillary for a lot more than her famously good chocolate chip cookies; she had a kitchen garden (admittedly, mostly herbs and tomatoes) installed on the White House roof. Even Laura Bush is on record as requesting organic ingredients, for family and state meals, whenever possible. Waters and other passionate voices might wield more heft if they were connected to a bit more good homework and generous acknowledgement of some very real and underreported efforts of recent years.

(In fact, we should all feel free to send recipes, menu suggestions and maybe even some heirloom seeds suitable for garden harvest in the Washington, D.C., area to Michelle Obama, who will be in charge of White House food-related activities—which may or may not include resonant symbolism.)

Then there's the flap about the man nominated to be secretary of agriculture. Among those proposed for the spot by well-meaning but deeply uninformed advocates was the popular journalist Michael Pollan. Talk about fantasyland. Pollan writes intelligently and movingly about his thoughts and discoveries as a science reporter. He has virtually no interest in (or knowledge about) the workings of huge federal programs and has less than zero interest in leading an agency. He's effective and cozy just where he is, having even stated his intention to move on from food writing to other compelling topics. (Drat.)

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American Cheeses

 

Good cheese seems to go hand in hand with bad government. "How can you govern a country," a frustrated Charles de Gaulle famously asked, "which has 246 varieties of cheese?" Until recently, America was the reverse image of France, a stable, vibrant civil society with an abysmal selection of domestic cheese. Much of the stuff wasn't really cheese at all but amorphous, processed glop. In the words of author Clark Wolf, it was "blasted from a can or hacked from a gelatinous block or formed into iconic squares and wrapped in sheets of plastic and called American cheese."

Not anymore. While American social institutions have declined, the quality of American cheese has never been better. In "American Cheeses," Mr. Wolf offers a crash course on the producing, storing and serving of fine cheese and then leads us on a fascinating tour of the U.S. covering dozens of cheesemakers, dividing them broadly into three categories: "specialty" (quality varieties made by large producers); "artisan" (limited batches of distinctive cheeses made at smaller plants using traditional methods); and "farmstead" (milk and cheese produced from scratch on-site). It's a fun trip and one that serious cheese lovers may want to imitate, one region at a time.

Each cheesemaker entry includes a list of varieties produced, mail and email addresses, and a sometimes whimsical description of the premises: e.g., at Douglass Newbold's Pennsylvania farmstead "one feisty little terrier stood general guard while another rode, alert on all fours, on the back of a sleepy donkey." Dozens of imaginative recipes are included; I particularly recommend Chef Hans Burtscher's Blue Cheese Pralines, "a combination of sweet and savory that makes all of the ingredients taste better than they would on their own."

Mr. Wolf's approach throughout is as laid back as it is knowledgeable. His advice on cheese trays pithily sums up his overall cheese philosophy: "Don't try to be too clever. This isn't a challenge for you or your guests. It's supposed to be a pleasure."

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