Best Food Writing 2014 (33 page)

Is that unhealthy? No one really knows, but it's certainly true that the law doesn't require Monsanto to account for potential long-term effects. (The FDA considers all additive-free, conventionally bred produce to be safe.) Nobody has ever tinkered with sugar levels the way Monsanto is attempting; it's essentially an experiment, says Robert Lustig, a pediatric endocrinologist and president of the Institute for Responsible Nutrition. “The only result they care about is profit.”

Monsanto, of course, denies that charge. Make fruit taste better and people will eat more of it. “That's good for society and, let's face it, good for business,” Stark says.

Monsanto is still Monsanto. The company enforces stringent contracts for farmers who buy its produce seeds. Just as with Roundup Ready soybeans, Monsanto prohibits regrowing seeds from the new crops. The company maintains exclusion clauses with growers if harvests don't meet the standards of firmness, sweetness, or scent—pending strict quality-assurance checks. “The goal is to get the products recognized by the consumer, trusted, and purchased,” Stark says. “That's what I really want. I want to grow sales.”

But he gets coy about the company's longer-term agenda. “I'm not sure we ever really projected what kind of market share we'll have,” he says. The vegetable division cleared $821 million in revenue in 2013, a significant potential growth area for a $14 billion-a-year company that leans heavily on revenue from biotech corn and soy. More telling is the company's steady stream of acquisitions, which suggests a continuing commitment to the produce aisle. It owns a greenhouse in the Guatemalan mountains, where the dry, warm air allows three or four growth cycles a year—great for research. In 2008 Monsanto bought De Ruiter, one of the world's biggest greenhouse seed companies, and in 2013 it picked up Climate Corporation, a big-data
weather company that can provide intel on what field traits might be needed to survive global warming in a given region. Mark Gulley, an analyst at BGC Financial, says the company is following the “virtuous cycle” approach; it spends heavily on marketing and pours much of the proceeds back into R&D.

The new crops keep coming. In 2012 Monsanto debuted Performance Series Broccoli, a conventionally bred line that stands taller, enabling cheaper, faster mechanical harvesting as opposed to hand-picking. Breeders are also growing watermelons with the green-and-white-striped rind patterns familiar to US consumers but also the tiger-striped variety favored in Spain and the oval jade version loved by Australians. “It's supposed to remind you of where you grew up,” says Mills, the Monsanto melon breeder. That suggests the division plans to be a player in the trillion-dollar global produce market.

For his part, Stark hopes that when Monsanto's affiliation with some of its best sellers becomes more widely known, the company might win back some trust. “There isn't a reputation silver bullet, but it helps,” he says. In that basement dining room at Monsanto headquarters, he waxes rhapsodic about the lettuce long after he has cleaned his plate. During a recent trip to Holland, where Frescada is gaining popularity, Stark saw folks peeling leaves straight off the heads and munching them without dressing, like extra-large potato chips. “People just ate it like a snack, which was not the intent, but . . . ” Stark trails off and looks around the room. His napkin is still on his lap. He's savoring the potential.

K
evin Scheuring has a lot on his plate. A character, by every measure and definition, easily spotted thanks to long blonde dreadlocks, tattoos, lip ring, and earrings of a gauge that makes most mothers squirm, he lives a food-focused life. Memorable both for his appearance and his outspoken, expletive-laced style, Scheuring is the founder and sole employee of SpiceHound, a mobile retailer of quality spices, herbs, chiles, and natural salts, and the barely paid manager and passionate advocate for the Coit Road Farmers Market in East Cleveland.

He believes food is the most important purchase we make and that everyone would be better off choosing it thoughtfully and preparing it from scratch. “You eat 1,000 plus meals a year,” says Scheuring, “Cook most of them yourself. Be bold, fearless, and creative and don't be afraid to screw one up now and then.”

That's advice he follows himself, constantly experimenting with everything from making sausages and sauerkraut to canning tomato sauce and baking bread, and prompting his wife to once pose the rhetorical question, “Why am I married to an old ethnic woman?”

He didn't start out this way. “I played guitar and bass in a rock band,” Scheuring says. “I ate tacos from a boxed kit. Never in my wildest dreams did I see myself as a guy who would sell spices and be seriously into food.”

Things changed after he got married. The couple bought a house in Collinwood, where he'd lived since 1988 and “a neighborhood,” Scheuring notes, “populated with other poor musicians just like me.” He became interested in eating well and became a regular shopper at the nearby Coit Road Market, whose roots reach back to 1917, when a group of local farmers began selling food from the backs of their trucks.

In 1932, the farmers formed a cooperative, bought property, and erected the long enclosed shed and covered arcade that's still in use today. It is Northeast Ohio's only permanent, enclosed, year-round farmers market. The place has survived economic hard times, white flight, the deterioration of the surrounding community, and the loss of many farmer member tenants. It almost closed in the 1990s. A last-minute rescue pulled it back from the brink and put it in the hands of a nonprofit, the East Cleveland Farmer's Market Preservation Society.

“This market is underutilized,” says Scheuring, “but it's so important that it is here for people. It's a part of Cleveland history, and I actually think the original model—farmers banding together and running their own permanent market site—is a good one for the future.”

Once he began messing around in the kitchen, Scheuring developed a fascination with various ethnic cuisines and found himself driving all over town to get many of the spices he needed. A light went on. He saw an opportunity in his obsession and decided to become a spice vendor and set up shop at Coit Road. In the ensuing 10 years, he proudly announces, he has never missed a single market day.

He now orders in bulk from 20 different suppliers and offers an international array of products that include the familiar—garlic, sweet smoked paprika, onion powder, dill, mustard seeds, and cloves—and rarer, more esoteric items such as preserved lemons, Himalayan pink salt, dried habaneros, African Bird chilies, star anise, sumac, ground galangal, fennel pollen, and juniper berries. He can talk knowledgeably
and at length about the specific characteristics of cinnamon from Vietnam and why it's best to get nutmegs whole.

There is, he admits, a certain contradiction in being a self-described “hardcore locavore” and a seller of spices sourced from around the world. But we still want pepper, he says by way of explanation, and other flavorful ingredients that simply cannot be grown or produced in this area. And that's okay. So he has no problem seasoning the meat, poultry, vegetables, and fruits he gets from area farmers with Tasmanian pepperberries, Mexican oregano, and Madagascar vanilla beans.

Everything is packaged in small $1 bags: quantity varies rather than price. Scheuring does this to keep things simple and affordable. The approach also encourages customers to experiment and discourages overbuying. “Old spices lose something. It's best to use them up quickly.” The packets are set out in 216 compartments in a display case he built himself (it has that look). It was supposed to be a prototype, but he never seems to find the time to craft a finished version. When Coit Road is closed, Scheuring folds up the whole thing and carts it around to other farmers markets.

But the East Cleveland location is his priority. He took on the role of market manager in 2006. He keeps things running smoothly, manages the EBT program (Electronic Benefits Transfer that provides subsidies for shoppers), works tirelessly to promote the place, and does cooking demos. He helped establish a small urban farm and community garden on an adjacent plot of land and is trying to get a co-op up and running to house chickens that will supply participants with eggs. It is not, he admits, the most profitable use of his time, but he tells me “there are things that just need to be done, whether you get a paycheck or not.”

It was Wednesday afternoon at closing time when we met to talk. He had just finished cooking stuffed poblano peppers in the market's “demo kitchen”—propane and butane burners, countertop convection ovens, no plumbing—for the dinner he'd share with his wife, Lynne, later. It speaks to the consistent theme in all that he does. Whether he's selling spices, manning the office at Coit Road Farmers Market, or whipping up a meal, Kevin Scheuring is always thinking about how to make sure there's something good to go on the table.

Spicehound Says

Spices go stale.
Buy in small quantities,
and use within a couple of months.

To
test for freshness,
crumble or rub spices and herbs in your hands. Sniff. If the smell isn't vivid, pleasing, and strong, the product is past its prime.

Put a small amount of each spice and herb on the tip of your finger and
taste it.
This will give you a better idea of how it will impact a dish, and whether you want to use a little or a lot.

There are no rules
about what spices go with which foods. Flavors are like colors—choose what you like. If a combination works for you, then it's good.

Season incrementally
to avoid going overboard.

Most spices are better added early in the cooking process.
Fat is an excellent carrier of flavor so sautéing in oil, butter, or ghee at the start brings out their best.

Cauliflower Tomato Tarka

By Kevin Scheuring

One of the challenges of selling spices is the reality that most folks will never grind them and therefore never experience the superior flavor of fresh-ground spices. The other side of this is how often people don't consider using whole spices, well, whole. We accept whole caraway in bread, whole fennel in sausage, and whole anise in cookies, but don't consider whole spices much beyond that.

The tarka technique is a good way to play with whole spices. It's nothing more than frying some whole seed spices in oil (or ghee) to release their flavor and then adding the contents of the sauté pan to what you're cooking.

              
2 pounds fresh tomatoes (or canned equivalent)

              
1 head of cauliflower cut into florets

              
2 teaspoons ground coriander

              
1 ½ teaspoons whole cumin

              
1 tablespoon black (or brown) mustard seeds

              
1 teaspoon caraway seed

              
1 tablespoon pequin chilies (Feel free to add more or less to taste or use any other small dried red chili.)

              
2 tablespoons oil or ghee

              
1 teaspoon garam masala

              
Salt to taste

Combine tomatoes, cauliflower, and coriander in a pot and begin heating. Meanwhile heat oil in a small skillet. Once the oil is moderately hot, add the cumin, caraway, mustard, and chilies. Heat them gently until they become fragrant and the mustard seeds begin to pop. Add the spices and oil to the tomato mixture and stir. Cook until the cauliflower is tender. Taste and add salt and the garam masala. Cook 10 more minutes. Serve over rice—or not.