When I was a kid growing up on the farm I hated rhubarb.
I could never understand why my busy grandma would even take the time to cook it — and then make us eat what seemed like unremarkable, slightly sour pink glop.
But I’ve since learned that if treated right, even humble rhubarb can be a star. Just don’t overcook it!
The plant itself is very ornamental, and makes a big statement in edible landscapes. The color of the stalks varies from green to red, depending on variety and soil conditions, but all are flavorful. Rhubarb leaves contain high concentrations of oxalic acid, and must be trimmed completely away before the stalks can be used.
Rhubarb is most abundant in late spring and early summer, and hits its peak around Memorial Day, just when citrus is dwindling and summer fruits not quite ready. (Of course rhubarb is a vegetable, but used as a fruit; the reverse of tomatoes, which are fruits used as vegetables.)
Strawberries and rhubarb are ideal companions, each making the other taste better. And strawberries are most abundant and taste best in June, just when rhubarb is in season.
The other day I made a strawberry-rhubarb galette to take advantage of that happy coincidence. To make your own, start with a pint basket (about a pound) of strawberries and four or five large stalks of red rhubarb, all cut into bite-size pieces. Toss the fruit with about ½ cup sugar and a teaspoon of grated orange zest. Roll out a big circle of pie dough (the galette dough below is especially good), place on a parchment-lined pizza pan, and sprinkle the dough with a mixture of equal parts flour, sugar and almond flour to absorb excess juice. Then arrange the fruit on the dough leaving a 2-inch margin. Don’t heap up the fruit or the juices will overflow during baking.
Fold and crimp the dough around the fruit to make a free form shell, paint the edges with melted butter and sprinkle with a tablespoon of sugar. Bake in the middle level of a preheated 375°F oven for about 50 minutes (on a pizza stone if you have one), until the crust is well browned and the fruit tender. If you like a sweeter tart you could sprinkle on a couple more tablespoons sugar halfway through the baking. Serve warm with whipped cream or vanilla ice cream and enjoy.
Galette Dough
We made this dough every day when I worked at Chez Panisse. It works for tarts both sweet and savory, of every shape and size. Jacques Pépin taught me how to make it: he calls it his “crunch tart” dough. The technique used to cut the butter into the flour is the key to good results with this recipe.
Makes about 20 ounces dough, enough for 2 open galettes or tarts or 1 covered tart, or 25 – 30 small turnovers.
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon sugar
1/4 teaspoon salt
6 ounces (1 1/2 sticks) butter, cold, cut into 1/2-inch pieces
Combine the flour, sugar, and salt in a large mixing bowl. Cut 4 tablespoons (2 ounces) of the butter into the flour mixture with a pastry blender, mixing until the dough resembles coarse cornmeal. (Butter dispersed throughout the flour in tiny pieces makes the dough tender.) Cut in the remaining 1 stick (4 ounces) of butter with the pastry blender, just until the biggest pieces of butter are the size of large peas—or a little larger. (These bigger pieces of butter in the dough make it flaky.)
Dribble 7 tablespoons of cold water (that’s 1/2 cup less 1 tablespoon) into the flour mixture in several stages, tossing and mixing between additions. Toss the mixture with your hands, letting it fall through your fingers. Do not pinch or squeeze the dough together or you will overwork it, making it tough. Keep tossing the mixture until it starts to pull together; it will look rather ropy, with some dry patches. If it looks like there are more dry patches than ropy parts, add another tablespoon of water and toss the mixture a little more. When the dough is finished it will still be crumbly. Divide the dough in half, gently press each half into a ball, and wrap tightly in plastic wrap, pressing down to flatten each ball into a 4-inch disk. Check the photo to see how the dough should look. Refrigerate for at least 30 minutes before rolling out. (The dough will keep in the freezer for a few weeks.)
When you are ready to roll out the dough, take one disk from the refrigerator at a time.
Let it soften slightly so that it is malleable but still cold. Unwrap the dough and press the edges of the disk so that there are no cracks. On a lightly floured surface, roll out the disk until the sheet of dough is less than 1/8 inch thick.
Transfer the dough to a parchment-lined baking sheet and refrigerate at least ½ hour before using. (The rolled-out dough can be frozen and used the next day.)
Lately, I’ve been on a pancake bender, or more precisely, a crêpe fling.
It all started with an item I saw on a restaurant menu a month ago: Pink Lady Apple Crêpes with Prune Armagnac Ice Cream. It sounded so good I had to go the whole nine yards for some friends who were coming for dinner soon.
Crêpes are easy to make and kids can have fun with the fillings, which could be just about anything, sweet or savory. Crêpes freeze well after they are baked, so you can always have a stack ready for spur of the moment rainy day entertainment or a way to dress up leftovers for a party.
You don’t need any fancy equipment, but a small non-stick skillet or a few French crêpe pans make the job a lot easier. Once properly seasoned they work like a charm. I have two crêpe pans that I use for nothing else. They only need a quick wipe with a towel after use, and a bit of butter melted in the bottom when heating the next time.
At Chez Panisse we used Lindsey Shere’s crêpe recipe, to which I’ve made a few minor changes. These have a bit of buckwheat flour to add a nutty taste and whole grain texture like none other. If you don’t have buckwheat flour, substitute whole wheat. The addition of beer makes the crêpes lighter.
Alan Tangren worked at Chez Panisse for over twenty years, where as Co-Pastry Chef he was a collaborator with Alice Waters on books like Chez Panisse Fruit and Chez Panisse Vegetables. As DooF’s Director of Food Operations. He ensures that the show depicts food with historical accuracy and the same attention to detail with which Chez Panisse changed the way Americans think about food.
Lindsey Shere’s Buckwheat Crêpes
Makes 1 quart of batter, enough for 30 6-inch crepes
- 2 cups milk
- ½ teaspoon salt
- 1 teaspoon sugar
- 4 tablespoons unsalted butter
- 1 cup minus 1 tablespoon flour
- ¼ cup plus 1 tablespoon buckwheat flour
- 1-1/2 tablespoons vegetable oil
- 3 eggs
- ½ cup beer (with or without alcohol)
Heat milk, salt, sugar and butter in a small saucepan until butter has melted. Measure flours into a mixing bowl, make a well in it, put in the oil and break in the eggs.
Mix with a whisk until mixture thickens. Beat in the warm milk mixture in driblets until batter is smooth, then add the rest in a thin stream. Mix in the beer, strain and refrigerate for at least 2 hours or overnight. Stir occasionally to prevent butter from separating. Will keep for up to a week in the refrigerator.
To bake the crêpes, heat a small non-stick skillet or crêpe pan over medium heat until drops of water shaken onto the pan skitter about. Wipe a paper towel across some softened butter and butter the pan with it.
Dip a ¼ cup measure into the batter until about half full. Pour into the pan, shaking and rotating the pan to coat the bottom evenly. If there are holes, patch with a little more batter.
Cook for about a minute, until the edges of the crepe are a medium brown. With a table knife, loosen the edges of the crepe and use your fingers to grasp it at the near side and flip it over. Cook for another 20 seconds or so and turn out onto a plate. Continue until all the batter is used.
Use right way or let crêpes cool. Crêpes may be wrapped and refrigerated for a day or two, or frozen for up to a month.
Crêpes can be filled with just about anything edible. Warm crêpes spread with a little jam, folded in half and sprinkled with sugar are the best. I filled my crepes with Pink Pearl apples, sliced and sautéed with a little butter and sugar.
Wood Oven Pizza Party for Cousin Rosie
My cousin Rosie turned 21 last week, and when I asked her what she wanted for her birthday, it was pizzas for 20 or so of her friends and family, baked in my wood burning oven. At the time it sounded like a good idea…
I wanted to make pizzas like those in Italy, with a light crust that bakes up crispy, but still slightly chewy, and easy on the toppings. Over the years I’ve adapted the dough recipe from Chez Panisse to work for the home cook. It is left to rise overnight in the refrigerator, so the yeast and the enzymes in the flour have a chance to develop more flavor than afforded by a quick rise. If you have a baking stone to fit your home oven, the bottom crust will come out properly crisp and brown. Otherwise use a baking sheet and place rack in the lower level of the oven.
Pizza Dough a la Chez Panisse
Enough for about 6 medium pizzas
Sponge
2 teaspoons dry yeast
¾ cup warm water
2/3 cup unbleached all-purpose flour
4 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
¼ cup rye or whole wheat flour
1 teaspoon salt
1 cup cold water
1/3 cup olive oil
Mix yeast and warm water in bowl and stir in the 2/3 cup flour. Let mixture sit at room temperature 30 minutes or until light, with tiny bubbles throughout.
In another bowl mix the 4 cups of flour, rye or whole wheat flour and salt.
When the sponge is ready, add 1 cup cold water and 1 cup of flour mixture to sponge and let rise for another 30 minutes.
Add remaining flour and the olive oil to the sponge and knead the dough on a lightly floured surface for at least 5 minutes or until soft and elastic.
Place dough in a large bowl, cover, and let rise in a warm place until doubled in size, about 2 hours. Or refrigerate dough and let rise overnight.
Punch down the dough and divide into portions. Will make 10 small pizzas or 6 medium. Shape dough into smooth balls and allow to rest at room temperature for about an hour before shaping.
Place a baking stone on the middle rack of the oven and preheat to 450° or 500° for at least 15 minutes. Roll and stretch out the dough into a rough circle (8 inches for small pizzas, 10 inches for medium). Place on a well-floured pizza peel, brush with olive oil and add toppings. Slide pizza onto the hot baking stone and bake until the crust is well browned and the toppings are bubbly, about 10 minutes. Have a small knife handy to pop any big bubbles if they form in the crust. Remove from oven, slice and serve.
We decided to fix a bunch of toppings and let each person make their own special pizza. Rosie and I spent the afternoon preparing caramelized onions, blanched asparagus, rendered pancetta, pepperoni, duck sausage, sautéed bell peppers and jalapenos, shrimp and squid. We also filleted some salt-cured anchovies. We set these all out on a big table in front of the oven, along with two tomato sauces, one smooth and one chunky; cherry tomatoes, chopped parsley and cilantro, slices of fresh mozzarella, grated mozzarella, cheddar and Parmesan, and crumbled Gorgonzola. Phew!
We brushed our rolled out dough circles with olive oil that had steeped with freshly chopped garlic, and sprinkled on some thin sliced red onion. Then it was time for everyone to get creative. We all had fun putting the toppings on our very own custom made pizzas, and I managed to get them all in and out of the oven with only a few mishaps.
I’m sure some of the combinations will be better forgotten, but at the end of the night the only leftovers were a few crumbs and lots of happy cooks.
• From Capture to Cleanup, a Duck for Dinner •
Where I live in Northern California we have a rich supply of wild foods.
I’ve often thought to cook a meal from things that grow nearby:
- watercress and crawfish from the creek
- blackberries from the brambles
- quail
- wild radish and
- mustard from the meadow
Add a few chanterelle mushrooms collected under our grove of ancient oak trees and that would be a meal!
Well, maybe some day.
For the time being, I’ll depend on the wild bounty my cousin Danny finds when he’s out hunting.
Waterfowl season starts in late fall and is just now coming to an end. Every year the natural wetlands and rice farms of the Central Valley are crowded with ducks and geese visiting for the winter. After the rice harvest in the fall, the migrating birds arrive just in time to consume the grain that’s been left behind.
Hunters follow strict rules regarding the number and species they can shoot in a day, to maintain a healthy balance.
Some days Danny returns empty-handed. But then there are the days when skill and opportunity combine to produce a full bag.
The hunter’s reward—canvasback, pintail, mallard and widgeon.
This year I’ve plucked and cleaned my share of ducks, including mallards, pintail and wood ducks, any of which make for good eating.
Last week I roasted a mallard for dinner with a friend. I love the mallard’s plumage—particularly the males—with their dark green heads, flashes of blue and purple on the wings and their curly black tails. Mallards are relatively easy to pluck, but even when you are careful the fluffy down gets everywhere. I’m still finding “down bunnies” in odd corners of my kitchen.
The mallard we roasted had eaten its fill of rice and had a lovely layer of fat under the skin. It only needed a quick rub with some soft butter and a sprinkling of salt and pepper before going into a very hot oven for 25 minutes.
Our duck, ready for roasting.
My friend had found some fresh green chick peas at the market. We shelled out as many as we had patience for—you only get one or two in each pod—and cooked them for about ten minutes in just enough salted water to cover, with a big pinch of dried herbs.
After most of the water boiled away they were dressed with a drizzle of olive oil. The herby legumes accented the rich wild flavor of the duck. A few sautéed potatoes completed the picture.
I really should have tried to find some watercress!
Wild duck for dinner.
Alan Tangren is DooF’s Director of Food Operations
 I don’t mean to sound subversive, but I think it would be great if we all started our own New Year’s revolution and resolved to eat more organic produce. If you’ve been thinking about including more organic foods in your diet there’s help from the Environmental Working Group (EWG) and their list of the “ Dirty Dozen.” They’re not talking about the classic 1960’s movie but a list the EWG has published ranking the twelve conventional produce items that have the highest levels of pesticide residues.
It includes many commonly used fruits and vegetables. Ranked from highest pesticide levels to lower, the list includes peaches, apples, bell peppers, celery, nectarines, strawberries, cherries, kale, lettuce, imported grapes, carrots and pears. (Some of the least contaminated foods are onions, avocados, pineapples and mangoes.) So if you want to do the most good for yourself and the environment, start at the top and work down. Like all serious resolutions, there may be lapses and difficulties along the way, but even a tiny beginning can have important consequences.
Why should we care about the use of pesticides? Certainly, no one willingly wants to introduce harmful substances into his or her body. Additionally, we should also be concerned about the health of the farm workers and others who handle our food, and about the health of the air and soil where pesticides are used. Indiscriminate pesticide use harms many beneficial insects and soil microbes, which can lead to a decrease in soil fertility and overall plant health.
I think it’s only fair to point out that organic growers use pesticides, too. But organic rules restrict them to naturally occurring, relatively benign products that do minimal harm to the environment.
After several weeks of haphazard eating over the holidays, I am trying to get back to a more healthy diet and attitude — sort of a palate and soul cleanser. This week I wanted to bring a platter of fresh things to a family birthday gathering. My shopping expedition turned up lots of colorful, delicious and seasonal fruits and vegetables. When shopping, it was easy to avoid conventional sources for any of the Dirty Dozen on my menu.
I needed to use my biggest Italian platter to hold all the salads I made: cabbage and apple slaw, golden beets with oranges and olives, shaved fennel and Parmesan, carrots and daikon with lemon and garlic, all on a nest of fresh garden greens. And all good soldiers in my own New Year’s revolution.
What about you?
Alan Tangren is DooF’s Director of Food Operations
A STEER NAMED LEROY HIS BARRIER-BREAKING EFFORTS TO GAIN ACCESS TO LOCALLY GROWN FOOD –
You may have heard the term locavore, meaning someone who eats local.
But what does it really mean to eat local?
Where do you start?
Eating Local as a State of Mind
 Enjoying their post-Thanksgiving Pumpkin Pie It seems to me that it’s more a state of mind than anything with clearly defined boundaries.
For me, it starts at the pasture about 100 yards from my farmhouse that is home for a couple of beef cattle. Sheep graze in their own space nearby. Deer live just around the corner in a patch of woods. And I know that someday meat from any of these animals may end up on my table.
During this time of year, the steers love to eat the pumpkins left over from the fall harvest. The pumpkins will impart a certain sweetness to the meat, but more important, the pumpkins don’t end up in the compost pile.
In fact I know a lot about the steers: what they eat; how they are cared for, and by whom; what happens when they are slaughtered.
But my situation is hardly that of the average consumer.
Ways for You to Eat Local
How can you “eat local” if the nearest farm is miles away?
- Know who grows your food – For me, eating local has everything to do with knowing who grows your food and how they care for the land. Sure, if you live near a farm those questions are easy to answer. But what if you don’t? Start at the store where you shop. Look for signage that describes the produce and where it was grown. If you still have questions, ask the manager where the potatoes are from, or where did the pigs grow up. If they can’t answer those questions, find a store where they can.
- Shop your local Farmers markets – In the San Francisco Bay Area, farmers markets continue to thrive in both the big cities and smaller communities alike. They are a great place to meet the person who grows your food. If the farmer can’t be at the market, maybe the person selling the farm’s goods has been to the farm and can tell you about it. Learning a little about the farm gives you a stake in its success, and lets the farmer learn about you.
- Grow your own food – Look for a community garden in your neighborhood or start a garden in your backyard. You may not be able to grow everything you need, but you’ll get to know every step in the process, from soil to seed to plant to harvest. It’s a thrill to feed yourself and those you love with something you grew.
The Story of Leroy
The other evening just after sunset I was sitting in my living room, having a drink with my young cousin, Danny. He’s the kind of person who is aware of everything, and he was watching the wildlife just outside, in the darkening gloom. The quail had settled down for the night, and a handsome buck with big antlers strolled by, headed for his dinner on my lawn. Suddenly Danny jumped out of his chair. “Leroy is out and he’s coming up to see you!”
Danny loves to joke a lot, but I stepped outside to have a look around anyway. Sure enough, good old Leroy, the longhorn steer, was bounding up the hill toward my house. He usually shares the pasture on the other side of the county road with two other steers, but a gate had broken down and now he was loose. Leroy is a pet and will never end up in the stew pot. He was happily tasting freedom of a limited sort. After half an hour of herding with flashlights, car headlights and horns; with the help of cousins, neighbors and passersby; and lots of shouting and hand waving; we managed to steer Leroy back to the pasture and secure the gate. He was eating local once again.
Alan Tangren is DooF’s Director of Food Operations
A Window into the World of a Restaurant Fruit Seller •
Not long ago I drove to San Francisco with 5 bushels of apples from our farm, stashed in the back of my car. I had emailed some restaurant chef friends of mine in the city to let them know the Arkansas Blacks from our farm were ready, but only got advance orders for 2 bushels. And Majkin Klare, the pastry chef at Foreign Cinema in the Mission District, wanted a box of Pink Ladies. I hoped to sell more, since it’s a 2-1/2 hour trip each way, and I needed to make it worth my time and gas. I always like to throw in a few extra boxes whenever I make these outings, just in case.
First Stop: Zuni Café
The sun was just coming up as I headed out of the farmyard. By the time I got to San Francisco, the sun was so strong it hurt my eyes. It was one of those brilliant fall days. First stop, Zuni Café on Market Street. Remi, the produce buyer, was busy getting the day’s soup going, stewing some onions on the stove (if you don’t like the aroma of onions cooking first thing in the morning, don’t go into restaurant work). Remi left the onions to sweat on their own for a minute and came outside to see what I had in the back of the car. He had already pre-bought a case of the Arkansas Black and was interested in Pink Lady, but for another time.
Quince
I was a little more bold with Mike Tusk, the chef/owner at Quince. He was trimming meat for sausage, but he was happy to come outside and check out the fruit (I didn’t see any onions on the stove, but several cooks were making what looked to be pumpkin ravioli). His pastry chef had ordered a box of the Arkansas, but Mike kept saying he himself loved Pink Ladies. I made him a deal he couldn’t refuse, and he decided to get both. Two more boxes sold!
Foreign Cinema
By the time I got to Foreign Cinema, Majkin was busy getting lunch desserts ready (wouldn’t you know it, there were some onions cooking nearby). I opened the box of Pink Ladies she had ordered. Her hand was a blur as she reached in and grabbed one to take a bite. Her smiling face told me all I needed to know. Then I gave her a slice of Arkansas Black, and she was hooked. “Good work,” I told myself, “I don’t have to take any unsold apples back to the farm.”
Later, before I settled down to my lunch at Camino in Oakland, I looked into the kitchen. Chef Russ was there, cooking (of course) some onions for the dinner menu.
Alan Tangren, DooF’s Director of Food Operations, is a farmer, a flower grower, and a former chef at Chez Panisse (and yes, he knows “everybody”)
It’s Nearly Halloween!
When fall weather comes, kids start thinking about Halloween — what kind of costume to wear, where to go trick-or-treating, where to find the biggest, scariest pumpkin. By mid October the pumpkin search is on. And farms all over the country open their gates to kids and their families looking for pumpkins, apples, winter squash and other fall treats.
The Bierwagen farm in Northern California is no exception. Kids come from many nearby communities to our farm in the Sierra Nevada foothills to hunt for the ideal pumpkin, learn how to pick apples, and have a glass of juice made from fresh apples while they eat their lunch.
The Bierwagen farm was started over 100 years ago by my great grandparents, Anna and Ludwig. In 1881 they left their home in Russia, where they farmed near the Black Sea, to take a ship to New York and find a better life. After years of battling the elements in South Dakota, they finally made their way to California, and settled on a piece of land with good soil and water. The farm they started in 1902 is still here, right where kids come to visit every October.
The Pumpkin Patch
At the farm, kids can hardly wait to head for the pumpkin patch. After lots of searching and deciding on the perfect pumpkin, they are ready to see the rest of the farm. One of the farmers leads them on a tour of the apple orchard, where they learn how apples grow and the best way to pick them—twist, then pull gently. And they try to identify some of the many varieties we grow, including Arkansas Black, Winesap, Golden Delicious, Fuji, Honeycrisp, Rome Beauty, Granny Smith and a dozen others. As they come in from the orchard, the kids can visit with the sheep, goats, pigs, chickens and cows that live on the farm. Leroy, the longhorn steer, loves apples!
After harvest, the apples are washed, polished, graded and sorted in the packing shed. Kids watch while a worker empties a 500-pound bin of apples and feeds them into the washing and polishing machine, with its whirring brushes and sponges. Next, a sharp-eyed worker checks each apple as they speed by on the conveyor belt, tossing the ugly ones into bins destined for the kitchen and the cider press. Only the best quality fruit continues to the sorting machine, where the apples go through “gates” of different sizes, and end up in bins of all one size. Only then are they put in boxes to go to market.
The farm also produces half a dozen varieties of winter squash and a dozen different kinds of gourds, many with descriptive names–including apple, swan, birdhouse, snake, sponge and turban.
Kids come by school bus with their teachers, by car with their folks, some bicycle in or ride horses; but they all go home with at least one pumpkin, a few apples and some good stories to tell their friends. I’m sure my ancestors would be happy that the farm is still producing–kids’ smiles being most important.
Alan Tangren worked at Chez Panisse for over twenty years, where as Co-Pastry Chef he was a collaborator with Alice Waters on books like Chez Panisse Fruit and Chez Panisse Vegetables. As DooF’s Director of Food Operations. He ensures that the show depicts food with historical accuracy and the same attention to detail with which Chez Panisse changed the way Americans think about food.
In 2004, after 20 years in the kitchen at Chez Panisse, I moved back to our family farm in the foothills of the Sierra Mountains, where I’d spent all my summers growing up. I didn’t really understand the importance of those summers on the farm until I moved back.
Summers during my Youth
During the school year we lived in Los Angeles, but every June we would pack up the Studebaker and later—as our family expanded—the Chevy station wagon, and drive the 400 miles up Highway 99. When we stepped out of the car at my grandparents’ house, and I could smell the red earth and the tarweed, I always felt at home.
Things to Do on the Farm
It was a place where I never lacked anything, not food, nor companionship—and certainly not things to do.
- Chores – My uncle and grandpa were in charge of the fruit orchards, the main occupation of the farm. But my grandma, mom and us kids took care of a lot of the rest. There were chickens to feed, eggs to collect, cattle to tend and weeds to hoe.
- Planting – We planted a huge vegetable garden and spent much of the summer canning corn, beans, tomatoes and other things that would be needed for the winter.
- Canning – The orchards provided mountains of cull fruit that we turned into gorgeous jars of applesauce, peaches, pears and apricots.
Sometimes, late in the afternoon when our chores were done, my older brother and I had time to hike down to the creek and try our luck catching the flashy and elusive rainbow trout.
Times in the Kitchen
The best times for me were in the kitchen, helping with the daily cooking, especially preparing the main meal, our midday dinner. I dutifully peeled potatoes, shucked corn and washed greens. But I really wanted to make desserts. Every once in a while my mom or grandma would take the time to teach me. Pies were my specialty. In the farm kitchen I learned to make first-rate pie dough, working quickly with a light touch and ice water to make sure it turned out tender and flaky. Lemon meringue was my masterpiece.
Somehow we never had to worry about healthy eating or whether we were getting our vitamins or enough exercise. The life of the farm took care of all that. When we went back to the city in the fall I would always ask my friends about their exotic trips to summer camp or family vacations. I never thought of our trip to the farm as a vacation; it was just part of everyday life.
The Call of DooF
My experience with food and togetherness taught me respect for the land and the people around me. And while most kids do not have a farm to come home to, by cooking with their families, and understanding that real, live people grow their food, they can discover practices and values to sustain them throughout their lives.
Shortly before I left Chez Panisse to move back to the farm, I heard about DooF. I couldn’t ignore the invitation to get involved. Food backwards, they said.
It seems more like food forward to me.
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