The other night I was invited to a Bushmills whiskey dinner at a posh new Boston restaurant called Post 390. Although I’m not a big fan of whiskey, I was curious to learn more about this spirit that we call Bourbon. I confess I also was eager to try the restaurant. Such is the life of a food writer.

Bushmills is the oldest distillery in Ireland, having been founded over 400 years ago in the village of Bushmill (population 1,500). The distillery prides itself on making whiskey from 100 percent malted barley, versus a mixture of malted and unmalted barley. Malting is a process whereby grains (in this case, barley) are soaked in water until they germinate and then the germination process is quickly halted through drying to prevent the grains from sprouting further. Unlike many distilleries that dry their germinated barley over peat, thus giving the whiskey a strong, smoky flavor, Bushmills uses no peat during the drying process, preferring instead to let the grains’ natural flavors shine through.

Three folks from Bushmill hosted the dinner, including master distiller Colum Egan, a funny, fresh-faced, 40-year-old. Only two other journalists came to the dinner, aside from me, which made me glad I had brought my husband, who was the only other male at dinner aside from Colum.

With the first course of duck-stuffed pot stickers, we sampled the Bushmills Original. At 80 proof, it tasted woody and very fiery. Colum suggested we stir in a few spoonfuls of water into our glass to enhance the whiskey’s aroma and break the pure alcohol surface film, thus making it easier to drink. The water helped.

The process of making whiskey is actually quite simple. The first step is called mashing in which the malted barley grains are pulverized and blended with hot water to create a liquid called wort. Next comes fermentation where yeast is added to the wort to help the sugars convert to alcohol, resulting in a substance called wash. The final step is distillation, whereby the wash is brought to a boil in order to separate out the alcohol. Bushmills distills their whiskey three times, “to try to capture a light and fruity flavor,” says Colum.

The second whiskey to arrive, along with a gorgeous heap of tuna tartar, was the 7-year-old Black Bush. It was deep amber in color and perfumed with caramel, thanks to the sweet sherry oak barrels it had been stored in. I took a sip. Alas, I thought it tasted kind of like the first whiskey.

For our third whiskey, we sampled 10 Year, a 30-year-old single malt made from 100 percent malted barley that isn’t blended. “This is the kind of whiskey that you drink when you’re chilling at home,” said Colum, “when the kids and wife are in bed, it’s cold outside, and you’re in front of a roaring fire.” How romantic I thought. I took a taste. The whiskey was smooth, but still kind of burned and had an aftertaste of kindling, not the “warm milk chocolate running down your throat,” that Colum had described. I ate my warm grilled oysters topped with linguica, disappointed in myself for not achieving that Willy Wonka moment.

Next up was the 16 Year served with mashed potatoes and a slab of veal, beef, and pork meatloaf stuffed with fontina cheese. Here was a chance to redeem myself. The whiskey had been carefully aged in Bourbon- and Olorosso sherry-seasoned casks, which Colum said would lend flavors of vanilla and almonds. It was then aged for several months in Port wine barrels to impart a fruity sweetness. I took a swallow of the whiskey and then another, just to be sure. Sure of what? Sure, that instead of pralines, toffee, and dark chocolate, I tasted little more than alcohol?  Oh, dear.

Our last whiskey of the night was the 21 Years, rare and made in extremely limited quantities. With a mouthful of flourless chocolate torte, I listened to Colum explain how the whiskey was aged for a minimum of 19 years in Olorosso sherry and Bourbon-seasoned casks before being finished off for two years in Madeira barrels. It was the kind of whiskey Colum said he’d serve on a very special occasion, like the wedding of his offspring. He sniffed the soft brown liquid and took a sip.

“Like a really rich fruit cake,” he said, marveling at the whiskey’s spicy, dried fruit flavors. I love fruit cake. I took a sip, allowing the precious liquid to linger in my mouth while waiting for the special flavors to reveal themselves. I waited. Then I waited a little more, before having another bite of chocolate torte. Whiskey takes time to appreciate. The palate learns more with every tasting. I’m sure I’ll do better next time.

The infatuation started with a box of hemp milk from Whole Foods. I’d been eying the plain, unsweetened variety for months, since I knew it contained an impressive amount of protein, vitamins, minerals, and essential fatty acids (lots of omega-3’s and a small amount of omega-6’s). Having already fallen for soy and almond milks and dismissed rice milk for tasting too thin and greasy, I decided to give the hemp milk a whirl.

Holy yum. It was like cream. I poured it over some whole-grain cereal topped with fresh raspberries and couldn’t believe how thick and rich it tasted. I was sold and started adding it to baked goods, sauces, smoothies, and cold soups. Roasted hemp seeds I discovered make scrumptious snacks and hemp oil abounds with nutrition. Hemp even makes excellent body products and super-soft clothes. But here’s the rub.

It’s illegal for American farmers to commercially grow hemp! That’s because industrial hemp gets tossed in the same category as marijuana. Both plants come from the Cannabis sativa family, but industrial hemp—the kind used for food, body products, and clothes—has virtually no THC, the psychoactive ingredient in pot that gets you high. But, the United States Drug Enforcement Administration doesn’t make that distinction. Although they allow trade in the industrial hemp seed, our farmers can’t grow it. So, virtually all of the hemp products in America hail from Canada.

But it wasn’t always that way. Up until the 1950’s industrial hemp was an important crop in America. Both President’s George Washington and Thomas Jefferson even grew hemp. Early settlers used the stalk’s fibrous exterior to make clothing, rope, and canvas, which they used for covered wagons and to make sails for clipper ships. Benjamin Franklin even owned a mill that made hemp paper, a popular product at the time. Thomas Jefferson drafted the Declaration of Independence on hemp paper and extremely fine Bibles are still printed on hemp-based paper.

In 1937, however, the passage of the “Marihuana Tax Act” erroneously scared the public into thinking that industrial hemp was a drug. That, combined with law enforcement officials pressuring farmers to stop growing the crop, led to ceased cultivation. The Controlled Substances Act in 1970 formally prohibited commercial cultivation of industrial hemp.

Lately, however, farmers, business owners, nutritionists, activists, green consumers, and hemp fans want to legalize the growing of industrial hemp in the United States. In addition to recognizing hemp’s fabulous taste and health benefits, advocates understand that industrial hemp is an earth-friendly crop that could further help the environment in many ways.

Hemp oil, not only makes excellent body products—lip balms, body lotions, soaps, shampoos, hair conditioners, and shaving goods—but experts believe hemp oil could play a huge role in reducing the fuel crisis by replacing diesel oil.

Fibers from the hemp plant make eco-friendly clothing, as well as nontoxic building materials, including those used in the auto industry. A widespread use of industrial hemp could make the United States less reliant on fossil fuels and reduce greenhouse gas emissions. It would add much-needed nutrients into the soil during crop rotation and help save trees through its use as a sustainable paper source.

Imagine: All that from a kissing cousin of pot. If you haven’t tried hemp milk, I strongly recommend it. For more information about how you can get involved in legalizing industrial hemp growing in the United States, visit the Hemp Industries Association, www.thehia.org

There’s nothing like “ciao-ing” Italian style, particularly in Emilia-Romagna, where all things celebrate the pig. My husband and I just spent two weeks in the region, where we rented a small apartment from an oil painter and his mosaic-teaching wife on their farm in the tiny town of Mondaino (near Urbino).

One of the most eye-opening aspects of this trip—from a culinary standpoint—was how well your every-day Italian eats. Whether you’re rich or poor, everyone has access to high-quality ingredients. That’s because most markets sell ripe, in-season fruits and vegetables, locally-raised meats, and hand-crafted cheeses from nearby farms. Sure, you’ll see kids munching on potato chips and candy bars. But you’re hard-pressed to find families sustaining themselves on frozen dinners, buckets of fast food, and the cheap, processed junk Americans call nourishment. The reason for this, in part, is because pasta is a huge part of the country’s diet. It’s cheap, versatile, easy to prepare, and pretty hard to screw up.

Yet, even gas station restaurants, called Auto Grills, crank out amazing food! Pull into one and you’ll find baskets of fresh rolls and whole-grain bread ready to split open and stuff with salami, prosciutto, and balls of fresh mozzarella, along with gorgeous arugula salads topped with tuna and white beans, homemade soups, panini sandwiches stuffed with eggplant, red peppers, and Provolone, and wood-oven crisped pizzas. In one corner of the cafeteria, I even spotted a bin of sautéed Swiss chard with raisins and pine nuts. All this at a pit stop!

Our first couple meals took place in Bologna, a small student-filled city brimming with picturesque portals, outdoor cafes, boutiques, and shoe shops. Bologna is the gastronomic capital of Italy and a scrumptious place to visit for a couple of days (We loved the funky, modern, boutique hotel, Novecento, 4/3 Piazza Galileo.) You’ll find pork in every form, made into sausages, salami, mortadella, and the famous Prosciutto de Parma, along with roasted hot and cold pork dishes and various pork-rich ragus. Being summer, we feasted on silky, soft strips of prosciutto draped over juicy cantaloupe wedges and balls of buffalo mozzarella. Parmesan Reggiano, also made in nearby Parma, is the only cheese offered for sprinkling over pastas (there was no Pecorino), which range from the heavy signature tagliatelle Bolognese, meat tortellini in broth, and pumpkin-stuffed tortellini sauced with butter and sage. In a nod to the heat, we ordered lighter pastas, such as ricotta stuffed half-moons topped with sautéed zucchini, fresh tomato, and carrots. We also enjoyed the summer antipasti plates of sliced raw tuna, swordfish, and sea bass dressed with olive oil and salt—sashimi Italian style. As for dessert, we found plenty of cool, creamy panna cotta and, of course, gelato.

We never cooked at our apartment, except to make coffee because we were too excited to zip about in our rented car and sample the region’s bounty, either in the country or along the coast. For a country experience, you can’t beat eating in an agritourismo. Usually attached to a family’s home, these restaurants grow their own vegetables and fruits, make their own cheeses, and raise their own animals and bees for honey. Usually, there are no menus, simply a handful of starters, pastas, and main courses that the Mama or Papa has prepared that night. At an agritourismo called Belvedere in Melto, we had a standout dinner featuring fresh pasta topped with buttery artichoke hearts and an entrée of tender farm-raised rabbit stuffed with its own organs (brains, pancreas, and liver). We raved so much about the Italian pinot noir paired with the rabbit (it’s very unusual to find Pinot Noir in Italy), the owner sent us home with a bottle. In Italy, the spirit of sharing knows no bounds.

In coastal cities and towns like Rimini, Cattolica, and Pesaro, we feasted on the bounty of the Adriatic Sea. We’d usually share two seafood appetizers—maybe grilled sardines with lemon and smoked swordfish—and then share two pastas—perhaps spaghetti with clams and fresh ziti with mussels and tomato. Then, we’d split a grilled fish entrée and a green salad, washing everything down with the area’s buttery Verdicchio white wines. You’d have thought we would have gained weight eating all this food. Yet, we didn’t, mainly because portion are reasonable and we were quite active. Also, eating in this fashion involved ingesting no additives, preservatives, fillers, or other scary ingredients. Meals are fresh and pure and made with minimal sugars, salt, and fats.

Two days before flying home, we stayed in Rome, where you can dine in one of two ways. One route is to visit the old-style Roman trattorias to savor traditional dishes, like pasta with veal ragu, grilled pork shoulder, and tiramisu. The other option is to visit the more modern spots (often located in chi-chi complexes along with a bar, café,  clothing boutique, flower store, and wine shop), where you’ll find menu items like Parmesan mousse with mint and arugula gnocchi with tomatoes, pine nuts, and sheep’s milk ricotta. We tried both the traditional and modern restaurants with terrific results. Then, we had one final stop: Gelateria Del Teatro (70 Via di St. Simone), a tiny artisinal gelato shop offering dozens of funky flavors made from organically grown fruits, flowers, herbs, and spices. We tried the summer favorite of ricotta gelato streaked with raspberries and minced sage, dark chocolate with orange peel, and finally a fig with roasted pine nuts. It was a sweet, final bite, encapsulating our entire vacation in Italy: la dolce vita.

Just for fun, I thought I would share with you a day of eating in the life of a food writer, yours truly, the Curious Peanut, who loves to eat well, yet cares about good nutrition. I have decided to use June 16, 2009, as my example, since it offers an excellent peek into how I usually eat.

As dull as it sounds, I tend to eat the same thing for breakfast most days, since it’s healthy and keeps the calories in check. I always start with a mug of coffee, which I make after an hour of exercise and a shower. I was a Peet’s Coffee Top Blend fan, until the company stopped making the blend. When I couldn’t find a tasty substitute, I started fiddling around with different combinations from Starbucks and became hooked on a mixture of half Sumatra Decaf and half Gold Coast, which the store blends and grinds at “7” for filter drip. The resulting brew has a rich, syrupy boldness, which I temper with a splash of evaporated milk, less fatty than half-and-half, but just as creamy.

Next comes a piece of fruit—whatever is in season—and a handful of peanuts. (Surprise, I adore peanuts!) You can’t believe how fabulous these roasted legumes taste with coffee (peanuts actually are not nuts, but a legume, like peas). The bitterness of the coffee cuts the richness of the nutty bits, which in turn, soften the acids in the coffee. I highly recommend it.

On this particular day, instead of eating a piece of fruit, I made a vibrant fruit salad for myself and my husband. I currently am writing a story for the October 2009 issue of Shape magazine on six top fruits and vegetables that fight cancer. All the research I have done has reminded me that the more fruits and vegetables you can eat a day the better. In fact, eating a huge variety of produce each day is key because red, yellow, green, blue, and orange fruits and vegetables all contain different and very valuable vitamins, minerals, and disease-fighting compounds. So, based on all this renewed knowledge, I filled our fruit bowl with cut-up mango, pineapple, kiwi, and some thawed, organic wild blueberries from the freezer (which were about to suffer freezer burn and I wanted to use up).

Around 1pm, after spending the morning writing about the cancer-fighting benefits of Swiss chard and bok choy, I made a salad. I usually eat a salad for lunch, often arugula topped with shredded carrot, some chopped fennel, some toasted nuts or seeds, like pumpkin seeds, a handful of dried fruit, such as golden raisins, and half an apple, orange or pear, and a drizzle of soy. I don’t add any oil because the nuts and seeds provide the healthy fat. On this day, however, I simply spooned the previous night’s dinner over a bed of arugula. The dinner was a big, warm salad made from arugula (yes, I love arugula) topped with celery, roasted cauliflower florets, sautéed shrimp, chopped green olives, fresh lemon juice, olive oil, grated Parmesan cheese and some chopped chives and oregano from my garden,. It made a quick, delectable lunch. For added protein (since there was only one shrimp in my leftovers), I had a few rice crackers topped with almond cheese melted in the microwave. I discovered these wafer-thin rice crackers in Whole Foods when I was looking for a cracker to serve my friend, Nancy, who is gluten intolerant. At only 10 calories a piece, these little crisps make a nifty low-calorie raft for the “cheese.” I hit upon the almond cheese one day at Whole Foods when I was looking for a soy cheese alternative. The almond cheese—I love the sharp cheddar—tastes very good, if you suspend any expectation that it’s going to taste like real cheese. The almond “cheddar” has a nice savory flavor and, most important, delivers that satisfying, gooey, rich mouth-feel. Almond cheese contains very little fat, no cholesterol, and lots of protein. If you haven’t tried it, I suggest giving it a whirl.

Riding high on my Shape article’s push to load up on produce, I had an apple for dessert. Lately, Whole Foods has been selling organic Fuji apples, which, despite having been in cold storage since the fall, have a lovely, crisp snap. Then, because I was really getting into my Shape story, I had a big mug of plain green tea for dessert. Having lived in Japan, I have tins of loose green tea sitting around the house. Experts have found that green tea is a powerful weapon against cancer, so I have recently decided to drink a cup every day after lunch, instead of my usual black tea with skim milk. I recommend the loose green leaves over bag teas, since the leaves have a sweeter, grassier flavor. High-quality Japanese green tea doesn’t taste bitter.

Around 3pm, all that healthy eating wore off. I wanted something sweet and preferably chocolate. I tried to quell the urge with a few chunks of Trader Joe’s black licorice ropes, which are really tasty, but didn’t do the trick. So, I helped myself to some Ghirardelli dark chocolate chips, which I always have on hand to add to cookies (you never know when an urge for homemade chocolate chip cookies will strike.) If you’ve ever seen those chips, you know how big they are. I must have had at least twenty. Yum!

Around 6pm, I headed out to buy ingredients for a low-fat  recipe I needed to test for the August-September 2010 issue of Cooking Pleasures, a subscription-only, national food magazine based in Minnesota. For every food article I write, I develop and test all my own recipes. Because I’d eaten all those chocolate chips, I decided to ride my bike to the market, instead of drive. It was a gorgeous, warm, golden evening, so I pedaled the long way to the market, about an eight-mile trip in all.

At Whole Foods, I found the ground bison (also called buffalo) that I needed for our  Smokey Bison Burgers, along with all the additions necessary to season and moisten the meat: whole-grain bread (to grind into crumbs to lighten the patties); scallions, smoked paprika; garlic; low-fat cheddar cheese; and barbecue sauce. I also picked up a bunch of organic asparagus to steam and serve plain as a side dish, along with a bunch of organic spinach to sauté in olive oil with minced garlic. Because we love vegetables, I usually serve at least two veggies with our dinner. And, I do try to buy organic, whenever possible.

We grilled the burgers, which tasted fantastic! Bison meat contains much less fat and cholesterol than beef, yet has the same minerally, sweet flavor. Instead of fluffy, white buns, which have little nutritional value, we put the burgers on fiber-rich toasted whole-wheat English muffins and topped them with sliced tomatoes and arugula (I know, I went overboard). For dessert, we had some locally-grown strawberries, simply rinsed and eaten plain. We also had a sliver of this chewy, honey-sweetened dried fruit and nut chocolate torte that I had recently made for a wine and cheese tasting story I’m working on for the November-December 2009 issue of Vegetarian Times.

While my work clearly influences what we eat, we still would choose a diet rich in fruits and vegetables, whole grains, and lean proteins (mainly seafood and beans, since we don’t eat much meat), even if I were not a food writer. We simply love those kinds of ingredients and they make us feel good. But, as you can tell, we don’t deny ourselves either—we eat bread, drink wine, enjoy real cheese, chocolate, and sweets. Life is too short to miss out on such pleasures. As my husband so often reminds me, “Everything in moderation, including moderation.”

Don’t Buy Your Next Olive Oil Until You Read this!

Getting down and dirty in Puglia

By Victoria Abbott Riccardi

A few months back I was invited to Puglia to learn about olive oil. Puglia, in case you’re wondering, is the heel of Italy’s boot. The folks at the Italian Trade Commission in Manhattan invited me on this trip. Years ago, when I was writing a story on broccoli rabe for The Boston Globe, I called the Commission to find out more about the vegetable—was it in the broccoli family, the cabbage family, or some other family? 

“Well, I can’t tell you anything about broccoli rabe,” said a very nice woman, “but I can tell you we have a trip to Sicily coming up to learn about the region’s oil. How’d you like to go?” You can guess what I said. 

Ten years later, the Commission invited me to Puglia to learn about this region’s oil too. It was a fun, tasty, and highly informative trip. Not only did I learn a lot about Italian olive oil, but I learned some dirty little secrets about the industry. 

Okay, first the facts, some of which you may know. When shopping for olive oil, you always want to buy Extra-virgin Olive Oil (EVOO) and, ideally, cold pressed. Here is why. Extra-virgin olive oil is the gorgeous, green goo you get when the olives are pressed for the first time. Since olives dislike heat when being pressed, you want your oil to have been cold pressed, which means there was no heat involved when the olives were squeezed, either in an old-fashioned press (where the olives are sandwiched between two rope-like rounds) or in a metal vat with a granite grinding stone (granite never gets hot). This first cold pressing releases a rich, grassy oil that is loaded, and I mean loaded, with nutrients and disease-fighting compounds, including antioxidants (which fight cancer). So this is the stuff you want.

 

 

Second, the color of the olive oil means nothing! Usually EVOO ranges in color from chartreuse to yellow-green. These variations merely indicate the skin color of the types of olives that were pressed. 

Finally, there are three things that can ruin olive oil—sunlight, oxygen, and heat. They all can turn your oil rancid, resulting in an “off” odor and bitter taste. To avoid sunlight and heat, store your olive oil in a dark, cool place, such as a cupboard in a pantry, and not on top of your stove. To avoid oxidation, buy your EVOO in small bottles, so you can use it up and replace it every month or so.

Now, here’s the down and dirty. Italy does not produce enough olives for all the olive oil it exports. Hmmmm. That means lots of olive oil from Italy is blended with—gasp—oils from other countries! The most common ones are Tunisia, Greece, and Spain, all of which produce excellent olive oil, but it’s not Italian. When you are paying big bucks for a 100 percent Italian olive oil, you want just that. Thus, check the label to make sure the oil is made from olives grown and pressed in Italy. Some sneaky manufactures sell “Italian” olive oil made entirely from olives grown outside Italy. They get away with this by bottling the foreign oil in Italy, so they can say on the label that it’s “oil from Italy.” 

Something else you should know—after that first lovely pressing, the remaining gook (mashed olives and pits) is used again. Companies press it a second, third, and maybe even fourth time, using chemicals (solvents) to extract lower quality oil. You should avoid this stuff.  

So what was Puglia like? Sumptuous. In addition to its rugged coastline dotted with fishing villages, the inland area has a rustic feel and abounds with olive trees and trulli, ancient, conical dwellings that are unique to the region. Resembling upside down ice cream cones, they are topped with crosses and other symbols related to Christian, primitive, and magic traditions.

 

 

And the food—swoon! Because so much of Puglia lies along the coast, seafood also stars in many dishes—garlicky baked mussels, fried sardines with lemon, and pasta with shrimp, chickpeas, and clams. Further inland, you’ll find lots of pork, beans, and wild greens. Orecchiette (priest’s caps) is the region’s traditional pasta shape and usually arrives sauced with olive oil, garlic, hot peppers, anchovies and my little friend broccoli rabe (who is in the cabbage and turnip family, by the way). Toasted breadcrumbs, or poor man’s cheese, top many pasta dishes, since Puglia historically was so impoverished. And, velvety Puglian olive oil moistens and flavors almost every dish in the region. The oil is considered so smooth and elegant, in fact, it’s often sent to other parts of Italy to blend with more prickly tasting oils to soften them out. To give you a taste of the region, here is a traditional Puglian pasta dish from my travels…

 

Orecchiette With Broccoli Rabe

Serves 4

 

 

 

 

 

 

Orecchiette with Broccoli Rabe

 

 

 

 

 

 

Some people say you shouldn’t cook with extra-virgin olive oil. This is not true. In Italy everyone cooks with EVOO, choosing bold tasting oils for sautéing and more delicate EVOO for dressing vegetables and fish. 

 

 

1 pound broccoli rabe, ends trimmed, greens rinsed and chopped

1/3 cup extra-virgin olive oil 

6 anchovies rolled around capers

1/4 teaspoon hot pepper flakes

4 cloves garlic, minced

Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

1 pound orecchiette pasta

 

1. Place a large pot of water for cooking the pasta over high heat. Fill a large saucepan with 2 inches of water and bring to a boil. Add the broccoli rabe to the saucepan. When the water returns to a boil, cover, and cook the broccoli rabe over medium-high heat for 6 minutes, stirring occasionally. Drain.

2. Place the same large saucepan you used to cook the broccoli rabe over medium-high heat. Add the olive oil, anchovies, and hot pepper flakes. Cook the anchovies, crushing them with a wooden spoon, until they sort of “melt” into the oil. Add the cooked broccoli rabe and garlic. Saute the mixture for 5 to 6 minutes, or until broccoli rabe is tender and dark green. Season with salt and pepper.

3. Add the orecchiette to the boiling water, along with a generous pinch of salt. Cook the pasta, according to package directions, until al dente, about 8 minutes. Drain the pasta and stir it into the broccoli rabe mixture. To serve, portion the orecchiette mixture onto four pasta plates and serve with toasted bread crumbs (or grated Pecorino Romano cheese). 

Enjoy!

 

Victoria Abbott Riccardi is author of Untangling My Chopsticks: A Culinary Sojourn in Kyoto (Broadway Books, 2003) and a freelance food and travel writer.

Looking for Victoria Abbott Riccardi’s Untangling My Chopsticks? Great! Exurb supports independent bookstores. To find one (hopefully) near you check out the American Booksellers Association  store directory.