Save money, get a knife

It's not news that you pay for your food to be processed by somebody else, but last week at the fruit market I was surprised to find out how steep the markup was.

plain old corn in its husk -- 99 cents for two ears

four ears of corn with the husks removed, wrapped in plastic -- $4.99 -- 52% markup

red peppers -- 3.49 a pound

peppers cut into bite-sized pieces -- 5.99 a pound -- 72% markup

peppers cut into rings -- 9.99 a pound -- 186% markup!!

Comfort food -- readers' choice

Earlier this week Mark Bittman, who writes and blogs about food, healthy eating and sustainable agriculture for the New York Times, had a column and then a post about comfort food.

Lots of people wrote in with comments about their own favorite comfort foods, and boy, did it run the gamut.  Lots of mashed potatoes, but lots of more exotic stuff like seafood gumbo, fish tacos, liverwurst, Chinese radish cakes, and kielbasa baked in a can of beer.

But my favorite of all the comments came from somebody in Los Angeles, who wrote:

After the big Northridge earthquake here, I hosted an earthquake survivors' comfort food dinner party for my friends whose homes had been damaged. I polled them on their favorite comfort foods and filled the table. We had toast, tea, chicken pot pies, tomato soup, pasta, meatballs, a lot of chocolate desserts, and jello. Also wine. The jello wound up being the perfect thing. We made it in a big bowl, unmolded it, and put Monopoly houses all over it. Instant earthquake! 

My earthquake survivor friends released their angst by smashing those little houses into the jello - "that house didn't make it!" "That one's red-lined!" "And no earthquake insurance!" True comfort.

Breakfast Manhattan

I thought a Breakfast Manhattan would be a generous portion of bourbon and vermouth atop a glass of orange juice.

Orange flannel hash

I've always loved hash, which in our family means corned beef hash, straight from the can with some extra potatoes.  I had read about turkey hash, red flannel hash, roast beef hash and other things using the h-word, but never tried them.

But recently we had a big sweet potato sitting on the counter, and about 6 ounces of chorizo left over from a previous meal, and not much of anything else in the house, so I was forced to improvise. Chopped up and sauteed a big onion while the sweet potato had seven minutes in the microwave to cook.  Diced up the sweet potato and added it and the chorizo to the pan, hashing everything together.

It was slightly disappointing in that the nice brown crust that makes "regular" hash so delectable never developed.  Perhaps there wasn't enough fat (heaven knows there's plenty of fat in the canned corned beef hash) or perhaps sweet potato has a different texture than the white potato that gives "regular" hash its backbone.  So instead of hitting the plate as a solid mass, it came out as a pile of nice bits.  And was really delicious.

I put mustard on the table but after one bite we decided we didn't need any extra seasoning.  I'd do this again.  It's probably much more nutritious than "regular" hash, and almost as delicious.  And of course quite beautiful.

At the Chinese buffet

Put food directly into your hand?  directly into your mouth?

Mystery meat -- why is this necessary?

I admit, I could be more careful about labeling the food in my freezer; I could keep things in their boxes until they're all eaten, even though that would take up more space.  But I am probably not alone in having little packets of stuff that are the last of their brothers.  And so my question -- what is this stuff anyway?

I know what these sausages are because it's the kind we usually buy.  But a while back I found a sealed pack of just two little sausages in the freezer, just as anonymous.  I had a vague recollection of having bought this different kind because it was on sale, and being pleasantly surprised to find them packaged in twos instead of in sixes.  I liked the small quantity, just enough to add a bit of meat to a vegetable soup or to have breakfast for one.

But I had neglected to note what brand they were, and I'll probably never take the trouble to find out. So a potential repeat customer went up in smoke.

I love the thought of dividing the food into smaller quantities, individually sealed.  But why don't they print the identifying label on the plastic pack as well as on the cardboard box?  And wouldn't that be worth it, for marketing to people like me whose memories aren't as long as the freezer-life of the product?

Life and death

Here's a product I haven't noticed before -- "Living Lettuce."

I guess they call it living because the roots are still attached, but when you're talking about plants no longer in the ground, I think the semantics are questionable.  Is the rest of the lettuce in the store "Dead Lettuce"?

Next from the marketing geniuses might be "Living Potatoes," those with lots of sprouting eyes.  Yuk.