I've been to Atlanta's s-called "Twin Towers" many times, but honestly never noticed the porch swings out front. Today they looked so lovely I stopped to sit and then just had to take a picture.
This building, known as the James H. "Sloppy" Floyd Building, is ground zero for Georgia's governmental offices. I was there because it's home to the Georgia Department of Education, where I hang out professionally these days. There's a big room up at the top where meetings and luncheons are held called "Top of the Slop."
It's pretty sweet to have a human thing like a porch swing in a venue that's all about bureaucracy (at its worst) and about democracy (at its best).
What is now the site of Atlanta's Twin Towers was originally the Atlanta Steam Flouring Mills, operated by W.G. Peters and Company. And after that, a pistol factory.
"It consisted of wood frame buildings with good solid stone foundations and enclosed with a good fence consisting of one large framed house with three stories and one story office, storehouse and smith shop. The building was leased by Spiller and Burr to be used as a pistol factory in June 1862. It operated until January 1864, when it was purchased by the Confederate States and the operations moved to the Macon Armory."
I met an actual Tuskegee Airman in Atlanta last week. The airmen were the first squadron of African American military pilots in the United States armed forces. They came from all over the United States, trained at Tuskegee Army Air Field (TAAF) in Tuskegee Alabama and fought in World War II. This handsome, pepper-haired gentleman was attending a session on educational funding for children of color who now comprise the majority of students in public schools in the American South. His entire life has been one of service, leadership and stewardship.
He told me about his distinguished and well educated children. I told him about my Brooklyn-born, Jewish father, a child of immigrants, who fought in the Pacific. We shook hands and I thanked him for defending our country and setting an example for generations to come.
My post on trying to like boiled peanuts has gotten lots of hits, but hasn't won me many fans down here in the land of cotton. I just wasn't liking 'em . . . that is, until this past weekend in Charleston, SC.
There I had lunch at Hyman's Seafood, a Charleston institution owned and operated the very entrepreneurial Hyman family, (MOT's) who own just about a whole city block of prime real estate on Meeting Street. It's a seafood and deli palace, very popular with tourists and locals alike.
You wait and wait on line, and when you sit down at the table you get . . .
. . . a crock of crab dip and a dish of boiled peanuts. Please notice they are wet boiled peanuts, just out of the pot. They are warm, salty, briny and completely addictive. I now humbly take back all I've said about boiled peanuts tasting like mealy mush, and salute the official snack food of the state of South Carolina.
It's lovely to live in a city with trees . . . until they start falling left and right.
That's what's been happening all over Atlanta after every rainstorm. It's the bitter harvest of 3 years of severe drought that has weakened root systems and sickened our majestic trees.
These giants don't even need a wind to topple over, just a good drenching rain. Gabe and I saw at least 4 more major tree falls on the way to school this morning, all in Druid Hills.
The scale of these trees is mammoth. They're almost like dinosaurs when they fall. Their roots have rotted from the stress of too little water. A big rain softens the surrounding soil, and boom, they go down.
Here's the tree that keeps me up at night. It's that giant to the left of my house, right outside my bedroom window. It provides glorious shade in Atlanta summers, but it scares the you know what out of me. After seeing so many behemoths fall in the neighborhood, I'm scared.
Fru-ga-LEE-sta. noun. “A person who lives a frugal lifestyle but stays fashionable and
healthy by swapping clothes, buying secondhand, growing own produce,
etc.”
Macque Choux? Say what?
It's pronounced Mock SHOE, and presumably has American Indian origins. I never heard of this Cajun dish until Fabio made it on Top Chef (Season 5) for the New Orleans semi-final episode. It's a fancy name for cajun smothered corn and it's a classic frugalista side dish made the "holy trinity" of New Orleans cooking -- onions, peppers and celery. Macque Choux also works as a main course if you add some protein. Fabio dolled his dish up with sausage and rabbit and served it over grits. They say it must be made with fresh corn.
Here's a recipe:
"Maque Choux"
Ingredients:
8 ears of fresh corn
1 chopped onion
1/2 chopped green bell pepper
1 stalk of celery, chopped
1 chopped green onion
1 cup of cubed salt meat (you could use smoked turkey or turkey bacon)
1 tablespoon of vegetable oil
1 tomato chopped
2 teaspoons of salt
1 teaspoon of black pepper
Instructions:
Scrape the corn to remove the kernels
In a pot over medium heat, cook the onions and meat with the oil until they are lightly brown.
Add the celery and bell peppers to saute them.
Add the tomatoes and corn. Cover and let them simmer on a low heat for 30 minutes.
Add the green onions and the seasoning and let simmer, covered, for another 10 minutes.
Today was a big deadline day for me. Not taxes, a grant proposal due in Macon, GA today. It's only an hour and a half drive so I decided to take myself and my 15 unbound three-hole-punched copies down to Macon and hand deliver these babies.
I got off the highway, crossed the Otis Redding Bridge and the Ocmulgee River, and in like 30
seconds arrived at my first stop, the Community Foundation of Central
Georgia. Handed in my proposal and headed back to the car, which was parked within sight of the Harriet Tubman Museum. So I sashayed over.
The museum has a wonderful folk art collection.
Moon Man, by Mose Tolliver
Across the street is the Georgia Music Hall of Fame.
I didn't have time for something as grand as this. So on to the next stop, another
foundation in Macon where I will be submitting a proposal in a few
months.
They still have head-in angle parking downtown. Love it. I parked across the street from a restored Opera House:
The Grand Opera House
Then I headed over to the Macon Telegraph, the daily newspaper, to see if I could shmooze with the education reporter, but she was out for lunch.
By now my OTP adventure was getting a little old. So I headed back to the office in Atlanta. But not without a little side trip to the Tanger Outlet. It sucks, just like every Tanger Outlet. There's nothing to buy, but I was suckered in anyway.
Now here's a startling sight for northern eyes. Hot Boiled Peanuts. You see these stands in the country and in the city. I guess it's the southern equivalent of hot roasted chestnuts, which I love, or steamed edamame.
I wanted to like 'em, really I did, but I just didn't. They were mealy and not salty enough for my taste. I'm willing to give them another try if somebody points me in the right direction.
Here's a recipe that makes boiled peanuts sound wonderful...and also suggests that a little seasoning goes a long way in boosting the flavor. And dig this from What's Cooking America:
A traditional way that old-timers like to eat
boiled peanuts is to drop the shelled peanuts into a bottle of cold RC Cola
and gulp down the combo. Southerners will tell you boiled peanuts should
always be accompanied by a beer, sweet tea, or a soft drink. Traditionally
they are eaten outside where it doesn't matter if wet shells are tossed or
spit on the ground.
Can anybody steer me to some good boiled peanuts in the ATL?
A little thanks also to Amazon.com for its free shipping program. If you're not motivated to go out an buy a clunky new cast iron skillet, you can have all the fun of getting a big heavy package in the mail by ordering online from Amazon with free shipping at AmazonPrime, if you qualify.
Bottom line...It's all about meat and heat. That's what cast iron skillets to so well. Coming from a lax but loving kosher mindset, I have dedicated my cast iron pan to meat meals and olive oil, while making room for the occasional egg-stravaganza or veggie adventure. No dairy products have hung out in my cast iron skillet. But hey, do whatever you like to do and always remember, cast iron loves meat, fat and fire.
And for comitted kosher cooks, your low-tech cast iron skillet is a GREEN MACHINE! Ditch your toxic non-stick Teflon pans and do what your bubbes did in Poland and Ukraine. Cook cast iron. Cast iron makes amazing matzah brei...just substitute margarine or oil for butter. It makes the ultimate latkes. It is THE vessel for brisket. It makes love to stuffed cabbage.
But first, you have to make a little love to your cast iron skillet. Your must season it, sealing the cast iron's pores, if you will, with a protective layer of oil. This will require high heat. Here's how:
Next, make a solemn vow NEVER to use soap, detergents or a water-soak on your cast iron skillet, NEVER to let your cast iron skillet sit and soak in the sink. I promise, you don't have to use lard to season your cast iron pan...canola oil works just fine. And at clean up time, it's actually better to leave your cast iron pan overnight on the stovetop with slime and grease, than to put it in the sink and add water and let it soak over night. That's a major no-no. You are maintaining a non-stick surface, and this will require a certain resolve to fight your urge to cut grease and go with the flow that is created by a brilliant patina of fat and oil.
On the other hand, if you mess up and violate up the non-stick surface, your beautiful cast iron skillet will forgive you. If the surface is compromised, heat and fat will rescue you every time. Just repeat the seasoning protocol and promise never to mess up your skillet again.
If you are really intrepid and not concerned with kashrut, flea markets and tag sales offer amazing opportunities to literally steal a cast iron skillet for nothing. Just put your adopted skillet through the seasoning ritual and you'll have a friend for life.
One more thing: the cast iron skillet's utility as a weapon or blunt object, is well documented. Consider this yet another selling point and feel free to add it to your arsenal.
Enough of politics. My soul is sick of it. Time to play in the dirt. This weekend I'm planting for Fall.
The tomatoes are done, though the Farmer's Markets are still selling fat and funky heirlooms. I have some Chinese eggplants and peppers still coming in my tiny yard at home. But the slanty light and the shortening days tell me it's time for cold crops. Rainbow Swiss Chard, Cabbage, Collard Greens, Kale, carrots, lettuces and Brussels Sprouts are going into my containers and a little experimental patch of yard that I hope gets enough sun.
Has anybody out there had success planting leafy cold crops in half-barrel planters? I know that the cabbages and collards will need room to sink roots and spread their leaves, but I'm hoping that the kale and lettuces will do OK in containers.
It is another wonder of the South that I can plant in August or September and enjoy the harvest in November, sometimes even December! The rosemary winters over beautifully here and we can count on fresh parsley until Thanksgiving.
Meet my farmer, Neil Taylor of TaylOrganics. He's been doing organic farming in Ellenville, GA for 14 years in a corner of Henry County just 35 minutes south of Metro Atlanta. It was nothing but thick pine trees when he got there and cleared the land, but now it's become the suburbs and Neil's land is pretty much on the flight path of Hartsfield Jackson Airport.
He's sad to see the suburbs encroaching, but he keeps on farming in the middle of subdivisions and nobody thinks he's a crazy hippie anymore. They know he's a church-going, generous, principled, and incredibly hard working guy. Neil retired early from the Air Force, settled down in Georgia and has raised 3 fantastic kids. He is a man who feels he's lucky to be able to farm the land, eat like a king and know that he has "enough."
As a member of a CSA, Community Supported Agriculture group, about 30 of us -- grownups, kids, babies and a couple of dogs -- went to visit our farmer and have a potluck lunch there. Neil showed us around, telling us that he's always believed in pesticide-free farming going back to his days growing up poor in Kentucky. "We couldn't afford fertilizer or pesticides, so we were organic back before anybody cared about that."
Neil depends on us and we depend on him. That's how a CSA works. He's signed up 145 full "shares" for this Spring/Summer season at $370 each. That means he's got money up front to pay his laborers and to cover his overhead. I'm a half share holder, and I split my half share with a friend -- we alternate weeks. For my $185 I'm getting the freshest, tastiest, healthiest local produce I've ever had in my life.
In the last few weeks I've gotten Mr. "Whatever," my 15 year old, jazzed about eating snap peas, beets, swiss chard and the most fantastic red carrots ever pulled from the ground. He even came along yesterday on the trip to the farm...OK, I let him drive as an incentive. Neil put my kid to work telling people where to park. Gabe took pictures of our lunch and the bounty of the farm. When the rain started and most folks took cover inside, Mr. "Whatever" was enjoying the shower and pronouncing the arugula with blueberry vinaigrette "delicious" and was scooping up the gluten-free berry cobbler like it was going out of style.
I met an actual 
You wait and wait on line, and when you sit down at the table you get . . .
