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This is a part of my loose series about food which started with this introduction, and continued with this
Never heard of Michael Pollan? Read this, and this, and this.
1. We spend an enormous amount treating chronic illnesses caused by our diet choices. Conservative estimates are in the 500 Billion range. The food industry in a symbiotic relationship with the health industry–our food makes us sick, our healthcare system treats us and sends us home with a bill. Why isn’t this a more prominent part of the health care debate?
2. For various complicated reasons having to do with the cold war (see Larry Norman’s Great American Novel), food prices rose exponentially in the ’70s causing that political-social genius known as Richard Nixon to restructure our agriculture system, setting up the modern subsidy system, which pays farmers to a) develop a monoculture of either soy or corn, and b) dump that soy and corn into a bad market causing food prices to plummet. The problem being that monoculture goes against 10,000 years of agricultural wisdom and has devastated our environment.
3. As a result of #2 above, food corporations must process food to give it value in order to maximize profits. Processed food is at best less healthy and at worst very, very unhealthy, which explains why we have the healthcare problem stated in #1, and why diseases such as type 2 diabetes and obesity have skyrocketed since the ’70s.
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2. It takes 10 pounds of grain to produce 1 pound of beef. This is unethical for two reasons: 1) In consuming it 1lb of beef we are stealing 9 lbs of grain from someone who needs it more than us. 2) The greenhouse gas emissions from the process is killing our planet. Cows that eat grass do not compete with humans for crops that we can eat, and are less harmful on the environment, and may actually reverse the effects of greenhouse gasses (carbon fixing). Looks like my beef stew recipe needs amending.
3. Swine flu is not caused by eating pork. However, swine flu came into existence in a pork processing plant as a result of the way that we process pork (think back to the first outbreak of H1N1, there were multiple report of how UN health officials traced the origin of the flu to a pork processing factory in Mexico).
4. Holy Shit! The Bible was right! Which animals were the Israelites allowed to eat? The ones that chewed the cud i.e. ATE GRASS. Which animals weren’t the Israelites allowed to eat? The one’s whose production and processing is harmful to the well-being of humans and the planet.
Tomorrow the book releases! Thanks to all who have pre-ordered it, and to all who will venture out to your local Barnes and Noble, Borders, or other bookseller tomorrow ...
We’ve gotten ourselves into a mess with the Bible. First, we are in a scientific mess. Fundamentalism again and again paints itself into a corner by requiring that the Bible be treated as a divinely dictated science textbook providing us true information in all areas of life, including when and how the earth was created, what the shape of the earth is, what revolves around what in space, and so on. (68)
From A New Kind of Christianity: Ten Questions That Are Transforming the Faith (available February 9, 2010)
The politics of Hope smashed into the Iron Wall that Israel continues to build to enclose Zionism in its own security blanket.
What happened when the Politics of Hope hit the Iron Wall of security?
Settler settlement growth increased; an Hamas leader died under suspicious circumstances in Dubai; more targeted Israeli Defense Force attacks struck West Bank citizens; Gaza still lies in ruins, its people unable to rebuild.
Meanwhile, the Gaza blockade is made even stronger with Egypt’s cooperation, reducing the flow of food, medicines, and building supplies into Gaza from the south.
Israel’s security blanket remains a prison wall surrounding all of Palestine.
The Goldstone Report is slowly disappearing. Once considered a serious theat to Israel, given the careful manner in which the Report was assembled under the leadership of the respected Jewish Judge Richard Goldstone, the Report languishes in UN file cabinets.
How do we know the Report is no longer a threat? We have that reassurance from a reliable source, David Horovitz, editor of the Jerusalem Post. (See spelling correction below.)
Horovitz spoke with “insider friends” in Washington, you know, those folks who are oozing with love, admiration and support for Israel (the Israel Lobby for short) and Horovitz was assured, as he wrote in a recent Post editorial, that the Goldstone threat is fading, thanks to Israel’s staunch ally, Barack Obama:
They stress that the administration has been rock solid on the Goldstone Report – voting in vain against its adoption in the United Nations Human Rights Council in October, and again in the General Assembly in November.
While countries from which we might have expected better failed to stand up for what amounted to Israel’s right to self-defense, and while certain European nations have now become no-go zones for Israeli leaders facing a genuine fear of arrest for purported war crimes, they point out, the US is firmly in Israel’s corner.
Why should readers of the Jerusalem Post worry about a little thing like the United Nations? Ethnic cleansing continues to run rampart over every UN resolution adopted since 1948. The politics of Hope cannot touch ethnic cleansing. It cannot even dent the Iron Wall behind which Israel lives in his secure military enclave.
True enough, the minority Republican party in Washington remains, in Time magazine’s Joe Klein’s terms,”paralyzed by cynicism and hypocrisy”, but that is just fine with Horovitz, so long as the Republican paralysis remains, again, in Klein’s words, “undergirded by inchoate ideological fervor.”
It is because of this Washington political paralysis, and the Republicans’ “inchoate ideological fervor” that Israel is able to fend off the Goldstone Report, and ignore angry world opinion outside the US.
Should Jerusalem Post readers worry about American voters who are facing “financial strains more acute than they have been for decades”?
No problem, Horovitz’ DC insiders assure him: Foreign aid to Israel will remain “untouched, secure and considerable – in the familiar region of $3 billion this year.”
Of course, Horovitz adds, there is still that pesky matter of those idealistic young protestors on American campuses.
A ferocious assault on Israel’s legitimacy is under way at innumerable American university campuses – the disease of British academia spreading across the pond. But the administration is robust. We’ve really only got one significant partner in this particular aspect of the battle against our delegitimation, they add, but if you’ve only got one ally, thank goodness it’s America.
In her review of M. Shadid Alam’s new book, Israeli Exceptionalism: The Destabilizing Logic of Zionism, political analyst and author Kathleen Christison traces the changing understanding of Zionism.
Until recent years, the notion that Zionism was a benign, indeed a humanitarian, political movement designed for the noble purpose of creating a homeland and refuge for the world’s stateless, persecuted Jews was a virtually universal assumption.
In the last few years, particularly since the start of the al-Aqsa intifada in 2000, as Israel’s harsh oppression of the Palestinians has become more widely known, a great many Israelis and friends of Israel have begun to distance themselves from and criticize Israel’s occupation policies, but they remain strong Zionists and have been at pains to propound the view that Zionism began well and has only lately been corrupted by the occupation.
Christison writes that the essential point of Alam’s book is made clear in the inscription in the frontispiece.
From the Persian poet and philosopher Rumi, the quote reads, “You have the light, but you have no humanity. Seek humanity, for that is the goal.”
Alam, professor of economics at Northeastern University in Boston . . . follows this with an explicit statement of his aims in the first paragraph of the preface.
Asking and answering the obvious question, “Why is an economist writing a book on the geopolitics of Zionism, he says that he “could have written a book about the economics of Zionism, the Israeli economy, or the economy of the West Bank and Gaza, but how would any of that have helped me to understand the cold logic and the deep passions that have driven Zionism?”
Alam demonstrates clearly, through voluminous evidence and a carefully argued analysis, that Zionism was never benign, never good—that from the very beginning, it operated according to a “cold logic” and, per Rumi, had “no humanity.” Except perhaps for Jews, which is where Israel’s and Zionism’s exceptionalism comes in.
Jerusalem Post editor David Horovitz, did not use the term exceptionalism, when he wrote that his colleagues in Washington had reassured him that one year into the Obama administration, nothing had changed on Israel’s other “home front”.
But there is certainly something exceptional about the undying loyalty US elites and leaders feel for Israel.
Israel’s loyal teammates in the US include the Congress, the media, and the ever faithful military-industrial complex.
Essential for the US-Israel axis, carefully cultivated in each new generation, are the cautious, excessively civil and reliably timid, American churches. Lets face it, Israelis are smart. They know it never hurts to have God on your side.
Over time, this could begin to change. Increasingly of late, courageous and aggressive Protestant activists have stepped up their travel to, and personal interaction with, Palestinians. They have returned home shocked at what they have seen and experienced.
A scene at the end of the highly effective DVD produced by the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) is a vivid testimony from one traveler, spoken to his fellow travelers on the last day of a trip to Palestine/Israel.
The study book, which includes the DVD, is Steadfast Hope: The Palestinian Quest for Just Peace, produced by the Israel/Palestine Mission Network, part of the denomination’s education program.
The speaker is the Rev. Andrew Rosencranz, a Presbyterian pastor. With barely restrained anger and frustration, Rosencranz, says: “I did not know that I did not know”.
This, of course, is Israel’s greatest nightmare, American pastors and laity discovering the Palestinian narrative.
Among all the American denominations, and I am not revealing secrets here, it is the Presbyterians, bless their orderly Reformed hearts, who have taken the lead in the effort to push a Palestinian justice and peace agenda.
This is still a minority movement. Church leaders are especially slow to even acknowledge the issue. The harsh reality remains, as the old saying goes, “the higher the steeple, the more timid the church below will be.”
Every church member or pastor who has taken an all-expenses-paid trip to Israel knows, perhaps hidden deep inside, that Zionism has successfully targeted Protestant circles of power for a very long time.
They are still at it, of course. Look for Zionism’s representatives at judicatory meetings. They will be pushing for “fair and balanced” resolutions.
Could that be where Fox News got its operative slogan?
Then there is the silence of the American media. Forget about the overt Zionists like Friedman, Goldberg, Will, and the Fox crowd.
As in the church and the Congress, you will find an abundance of PEPs in the media. (A PEP, in case you did not get the memo, is a Progressive Except on Palestine.) You know who they are, especially if you watch MSNBC.
There will always be well meaning folks in both the media and in the churches, who will respond to earthquakes in Haiti, and hunger in America. But these same folks quickly shy away from the “complications” involved in discussing the “Palestinian issue”. These are the people who can’t afford to “offend” others or harm “fragile” relationships.
Uri Avnery, the veteran Israeli peace agitator, activist, and author, recently called out Israelis who support worthy causes, but who have allowed themselves to become Israeli PEPs, Progressive except for Peace.
He is speaking to Israeli Jews, of couse, but if American progressives will just lift their sights a bit, they will find that the shoe fits here as well.
Avnery starts by listing the good causes that Israelis embrace, especially the younger activists.
The struggle for preserving the environment and the future of the planet.
The struggle for democracy against fascist trends.
The struggle for human rights and civil rights.
The feminist struggle.
The struggle for the rights of gays and lesbians.
The struggle for social justice and social solidarity.
The struggle for equal rights for Israel’s Arab citizens. The struggle against the discrimination of Oriental Jews.
The struggle for the separation of religion and state.
The struggle for animal rights. Etc. etc. etc.
What do all these causes have in common?
All of them belong to the liberal, “progressive” world view. Each and every one of them deserves full-hearted devotion, especially of young people. But after all, all of them serve today as substitutes for the main battle – the struggle for peace with the Palestinian people.
There is a danger that all these struggles will become something like “cities of refuge” for young idealists, who desire to devote themselves to a noble cause, but have no desire to take part in the main struggle.
Since every one of these struggles is indeed important and is for a good cause, no one can argue with these activists. Scores of organizations are now active in these fields, and thousands of wonderful people – male and female, old and young – are devoting themselves to these causes.
I, too, would willingly join every one of them, were it not – – - Were it not for the fact that all of them – all together and each of them separately – are now draining the life out of the struggle for peace.
Avnery has lived in Israel since before the modern state was created. He was, as a young man, a soldier in the Israeli Defense Force. Later, he was active in forming a political peace party and was elected to the Knesset.
His love for Israel is that of a Jew who wants only the best for his land and his people. So it is understandable that he sets the mark higher than an American might. But we who live on this side of the Atlantic, far from the daily struggles in Israel-Palestine, have to acknowledge the prophetic wisdom in his conclusion:
As I see it, peace stands above all other aims, not least because the success of all other struggles depends on the outcome of this fight.
The unending war creates a reality of occupation and oppression, of death and destruction, brutality and cruelty, moral degeneration and general bestiality.
Can any ideal be realized in this situation? Can feminism, for example, achieve its aims in a country that is in the throes of an unbridled chauvinist militarism?
Avnery knows all about what M. Shadid Alam describes as the “cold logic and deep passion” of Zionism. He also knows that an unchecked Zionism will be the ultimate downfall of Israel as a democratic state.
A Correction: An earlier version of this posting misspelled Post Editor’s David Horovitz‘ name as David Horowitz, leading readers to mistake him for the David Horowitz who is a well-known American conservative writer and activist who recently wrote critically of Howard Zinn. My apologies to both Davids.
The picture at the top is by Jim Watson, an AFP/Getty image. The picture of Uri Avnery is from Wikipedia
Transfigure © Jan L. Richardson
Reading from the Gospels, Transfiguration Sunday, Year C (Feb. 14): Luke 9:28-36 (37-43)
I was nearly finished with the collage before it occurred to me that the design perhaps owes as much to the snow I was recently in as it does to next Sunday’s gospel text. Gary and I have returned from Minnesota, and although we (and they) joked about the wisdom of importing Floridians at this time of year, it was a great gift to be in a lovely winter’s landscape and to receive wondrous hospitality as we shared a morning at Hennepin Avenue United Methodist Church (including a worship service that takes place in their art gallery, what a concept) and in events at Wisdom Ways Center for Spirituality and United Theological Seminary of the Twin Cities.
Along the way, I had occasion to share images of some of my artwork from the past 15+ years. It was the first time I had brought these images together in quite this way, from early work such as Wise Women Also Came (made when I was still using construction paper!) to the more recent collages I’ve created for this blog and The Advent Door. Looking back over this body of work prompted me to do some reflecting on how my style has changed. Although paper collage remains my first love, my technique and my style have both shifted considerably, taking an increasingly abstract turn since I began creating artwork for my blogs more than two years ago.
When it comes to the creative process, I can’t say I have a lot of control. Trying to wield too much control, in fact, is one of the worst things an artist can do (which doesn’t always keep me from trying). I didn’t exactly set out to do abstract work. The technique, which involves painting tissue paper, emerged from creative necessity as I was working on The Welcome Table: the scale was so large (4.5 x 6.5 feet) that I couldn’t snip the characters’ clothes out of magazines; I had to fashion them myself. I can’t explain the ensuing turn toward abstraction, except in part: once the painted papers showed up, that’s the path they took me down. That, and these lectionary texts that take me to places that so often resist traditional depictions. I experience abstract art as being more like poetry in the space that it creates. “Tell all the Truth but tell it slant,” Emily Dickinson wrote. I’m not trying to explain these passages, but to evoke, to invite, to sidle up alongside the texts and offer a doorway into them amidst line and shape and color.
Along the way, what I keep working and hoping to do is to give myself to the mysteries involved in the process of making: to pay attention to what emerges among the papers and to follow where they lead; to keep clearing out a space within myself that leaves enough room for something new to show up; and to avoid growing so attached to a particular style or technique that it becomes overworked and ossified.
In my artful work and elsewhere, the challenges that the disciples encounter in this passage from Luke are my own challenges. Like Peter, John, and James at prayer with Jesus on the mountain, I sometimes struggle to stay awake when it’s easier to be lulled into sleep and to miss the thin places, the meetings of heaven and earth, that open up in the midst of daily life. And when those thin places come—when a burst of inspiration opens a new world, say, or, after hours or months or sometimes years of experimentation, something finally comes together at the drafting table, and both the work and I myself are transformed—it can be tempting to want to set up shop there, to preserve the moment, as Peter longed to do. I recognize his impulse in my own self, his desire to want to linger in the wonder. And why shouldn’t he? Yet the persistent invitation of Jesus is to take what we have seen, what we have found, down into the trenches of everyday life.
It’s not a new message; I’ll wager that the greater percentage of the sermons preached on this text will offer a variation on the theme of navigating the transition from the mountaintop to the flatlands. And yet we need to keep practicing that transition, to keep rehearsing the journey that moves us from being recipients of wonder to becoming people who, transformed and—shall we say it?—transfigured by what we have received, can then offer these wonders to a broken world.
When the disciples come down from the mountain, they still have plenty of struggles ahead. They’ve hardly gotten their feet back on flat land when, Luke tells us, they encounter, and fail to heal, a boy in the grip of what Luke describes as an unclean spirit. In juxtaposing the stories, Luke suggests that the disciples’ own spirits are still struggling between holding on and letting go, are still struggling to leave a space for the wonders that Christ seeks to do within and through them. It will take rehearsing, and practicing, and rehearsing some more. In my own life, cultivating this space is something that, quite literally, I keep going back to the drawing board to learn.
This is a great passage to lead us toward Lent, a season that is all about discerning what it is that we cling to, and what we need to practice letting go of in order for Christ to become more clear in us. But Lent will come around soon enough. In the meantime, where does the story of Peter and John and James connect with your own? How are you navigating the journey that their own feet trace between the mountaintop and the flatlands? What do you find yourself tempted to cling to, and how do you practice letting go of it? Do you have habits and spaces that invite you to cultivate an openness to the new ways that God desires to work in and through you? Where and how do you rehearse the transfiguration that God seeks to bring in your life?
As we move toward Transfiguration Sunday, may we keep awake to the wonders in our midst, let ourselves be transformed by them, and follow the path they open to us. Blessings.
[For an earlier reflection on the Transfiguration, please see Transfiguration Sunday: Show and (Don't) Tell. To use the "Transfigure" image, please visit this page at janrichardsonimages.com. Your use of janrichardsonimages.com helps make the ministry of The Painted Prayerbook possible. Thank you!]
I'll be focusing on the book release for the next several weeks, but I wanted to include this note I just received:
Rev. McLaren - thank you for your wonderful report/response to your time in the Occupied Territories. Christians have, for too long, been complacent in the treatment of the palestinian people. As a Christian whose circle of friends include several muslims and a future rabbi (as well as having an MA in theology my self and a wife who loves anything to do with the Hebrew Bible) I am very pro ANYTHING that allows the diversity of human beings to work together for peace.
I don't know if you met with them during you time in the territories but can I point you and your readers to Sabeel? Sabel is the 'Ecumenical Palestinian LIberation Theology Center'. It is a training center for clergy and lay people alike to engage in non-violent liberation theology in a palestinian context.
http://www.sabeel.org/
Thanks - yes, I am a big fan of Sabeel, and encourage folks to read everything that they produce, especially books by Naim Ateek. I'll be coming back to speech and action on Palestine in the weeks and months ahead ...
While we're on the subject of Call (thank, Matt and Laura, thanks lectionary and thanks Kittamaqundi Community for never letting this topic drop) I'd like to raise a question which has been on my mind for years: Who is called to do the laundry?
And not just the laundry. Who is called to do all the mundane, scut work of the world. You know, collecting garbage and cleaning the bathtub and proof-reading the latest version of the church directory? I know that I'm not called to do these things. But is anyone?
There is a conversation that happens at churches with great frequency which goes like this: "We need to fill four more slots on the Christian Education committee. Let's think of all the people who aren't already on a committee who are free on Tuesday nights." Then, someone in the conversation responds, "Shouldn't the people on the Christian Education committee be called to that work? We need more people to feel a call to serve our youth!"
Which is the more "spiritual" response? The second comment certainly sounds more spiritual--it uses the word "call" after all. But is it really true that God arranges our communities in such ways that there is a person in the community who is really, truly called to each essential task? I would certainly like to believe this. I would really like to think that there is someone genuinely called to do all the work I don't feel like doing. But are they?
In my experience, this is how a great deal of the work of running a church gets divvied up: The church cultivates a clear expectation that everyone will take their turn to pitch in and do their share of the work. People either understand this and therefore volunteer when it seems like "their turn" or they don't don't understand this and are therefore asked quite directly to take a turn.
Is taking your turn, doing your share, acting out of a sense of duty distinctly different from following a divine call?
A couple of weekends ago, the 2010 Church Council spent Sunday afternoon together, our annual team-building retreat. Rick Miller led us in an exercise in which we all drew a picture describing our "call" to serve on the Council. I was struck by the answer so many of us gave: "I love our church, and I realize that a lot of people have put their time into running it, and I feel called to take my turn and do my share of the work."
People didn't say they felt called to administrative work. They said they were willing to do administrative work because they felt called to be part of a community.
Now, don't get me wrong. I agree that there are all sorts of ways to be Called. God doesn't just need ordained ministers and missionaries. God needs every one of us to build the Kingdom, in small and big ways. Last night my neighbor told me about her bus driver, Mr. Mike, who has touched her deeply with the caring and attentive way in which he does his work. "He really is like Jesus," she told me. "He shepherds us with such love."
But maybe the issue is not that we haven't valued calls to small acts of caring and inglorious jobs enough. Maybe the issue is that we have imagined calls to be much more specific and defined than they really are. God may not call each person to a specific job--big, little or in between. Rather, God has work to do in the world, and invites us to join in, however we can on any given day. "Pitching in" may be as worthy a response to the invitation as any.
My friend Alan Ward created a super-helpful study guide for Everything Must Change, which you can download for your group or for individual study here.
Friends - just two days until the book releases! Thanks for your interest in following these daily quotations.
But my quest for a new kind of Christianity has required me to ask some hard questions about the Bible I love. There will be no new kind of Christian faith without a new approach to the Bible. (68)
From A New Kind of Christianity: Ten Questions That Are Transforming the Faith (available February 9, 2010)
I had three dreams early Saturday morning before my last Sunday as the pastor of Covenant Baptist Church.
Salting the Edwards AquiferIn the first of three dreams I had this night, there was a big controversy in San Antonio regarding the Edwards Aquifer, our city’s source of water. Some, mostly conservatives, wanted to add massive amounts of salt to the aquifer. They claimed the salt would create a “salt pan” and preserve the aquifer in some way, insuring us of a supply of water in the future.
I tried to make a guess at what this meant. I asked their expert if the salt would sink to the bottom and form a crust, preventing the water from seeping deeper into the earth. Their expert said that, in fact, the presence of salt would serve as a catalyst to form a salt pan on the top of the aquifer chamber. He did not explain how this would preserve the water.
The position held by mostly liberals was that the salt would get out into the land and be an environmental disaster. I attended meetings, listening to experts on both sides, trying to decide what I thought. Everyone else seemed very sure of themselves. I just wanted the facts and couldn’t see any way of deciding apart from those facts.
Mike Huckabee was the spokesman for the conservatives, leading their campaign. In the dream he knew me and wanted my support for their position. He talked with me numerous times. I liked him but his “expert” turned out not to be a scientist at all, making me immediately suspicious of him and the whole "Salt the Aquifer" group.
Lost in San Antonio. Can’t find my way homeIn my next dream, I left our home and went for a walk. I ended up near downtown San Antonio. I got turned around and couldn't remember how to get home. I looked up and down the streets, hoping to see something familiar.
It was as if I had amnesia and couldn’t remember how I had gotten there. I couldn’t retrace my steps and go home. I wandered into a massive Orthodox church. Beautiful. Classic, with a domed roof. I remembered that Paul Soupiset had told me about their worship, which was esoteric and strict, even by Orthodox standards. I entered, peeked into the worship service which was happening at the time, then left.
I still had no idea how to find my way home. Then I remembered that my phone had GPS on it. I turned it on, plugged in my home address, and began to follow the instructions. Comforted by the fact that I didn’t have to know the way home but could just follow the simple instructions, I began to walk.
Suddenly I remembered how I had gotten downtown and how to go home. I even remembered why I had gotten turned around and lost in the first place. While walking from my home toward downtown, I had crossed the street at some point. From the other side of the street, my perspective had changed entirely.
Driving the ambulance with Reggie Freakin ReganIn the third of my dreams, I had bought an ambulance. I thought it would be fun to have an ambulance as my car. The back was empty, containing no medical equipment. Still, I thought it was cool.
This ambulance had been broken down for some time and left standing outside on the street. John McJilton (Member of our church) appeared in my dream and reminded me that for all the months the ambulance was broken, the street sweepers had to negotiate around it, and had been unable to clean the street, so that under the ambulance the street was filled with leaves and trash.
But now I had repaired the ambulance and was driving it around. Suddenly I had what I thought was a great idea. I would contact Reggie freakin Regan, who is a nurse with a specialization in emergency medicine. I thought Reggie and I might go into business together. We would have an ambulance service. I could drive and Reggie could handle taking care of people.
The idea of being the driver and leaving the care of the people in Reggie’s hands was very comforting. I did realize that it was going to be very expensive to stock the ambulance with all the medical equipment and wondered how we would get the money to do that.
Three Dreams. There you are. Have at it. My own approach to understanding dreams is Jungian. As such I find these three dreams, coming in quick succession last night, to be very interesting.
rlp
This is part of a loose series of mine entitled: Toward a Theology of Food
Proof of Beer’s Overall Culinary & Nutritional Superiority above all other Food & Beverage
Brewing Up a Civilization – Spiegel Online
General Guidelines for Cooking with Beer
1. Good beer makes good food. Conversely, bad beer makes bad food.
2. Never use all your beer for cooking. Save some for more traditional purposes.
3. Ne Quid Nemis. Balance and Counterpoint is key (see the note about prunes in the recipe below).
4. The darker the malt the fuller the flavor imparted to the dish (this is a general rule of thumb, sure to have exceptions).
Guinness Beef Stew
I can’t take full credit for this recipe, it is merely my adaptation of about seven of the dozens of recipes for this delectable dish that you can find on the internet.
2 lb. lean stew beef (I’ll bet lamb or mutton would be good as well, but they would make the whole thing a lot greasier and fattier).
1/2 cup (or so) flour
3 tablespoons (give or take) of olive oil. The use of canola oil will doom the whole project to failure, so don’t.
1 bullion cube- chicken or beef (I actually like chicken bullion in this recipe. Go figure.) Alternatively, you can make your own broth or stock.
4 carrots
1 white onion
2 1/2 cups water
1 12 oz. bottle of Guinness Extra Stout- do not use the draft cans or bottles.
1/2 cup of pitted prunes. This is seriously the key to the whole thing. The first time I made this stew I was like, “Prunes are for old people! That’s stupid!” And I didn’t put them in. The resulting stew was nasty. It tasted like pieces of meat floating in three day old stale beer. You couldn’t eat it. This is a part of the recipe that one should definitely experiment with, however; less prunes will give you more bitterness, more prunes make it sweeter. I feel like 1/2 cup or so provides a balance: the flavors of the beer, including its bitterness, can be fully tasted and enjoyed, but are not overpowering. You could also try raisins or dried apricots, or dried cranberries. Just don’t forget to add some sort of dried fruit.
1 bay leaf
1 sprig of rosemary (maybe wrapped in cheesecloth)
1/2 cup of chopped parsley (for garnish)
Salt and pepper to taste (don’t be too stingy with it)
1.Mix the flour in with the little cubes of beef. If the beef is really fatty, you may want to cut some of the fat off before you do this. In a fry-pan, brown the beef on all sides using about two tablespoons of oil or so. In your big stew pot, boil the water and add the bullion cube. My feeling is that a copper pot would be ideal for this stew, but if you haven’t robbed a Williams & Sonoma lately, or if you’re not rich, you’ll probably have to use stainless steel like me.
2. Chop carrots and onions. When the beef is done throw the beef and carrots in with the water. Add the beer, slowly, reverently pouring it down the side of the pot. As it flows out of the bottle, sing the Gloria in your best angelic voice. This is essential for continued success. May I suggest you use the setting arranged by William Byrd? Of course, my dream kitchen would be outfitted with a choir loft and a full-time, three voice choir, but, believe it or not, that hasn’t happened for me…yet. Alternatively, one may want to always have among one’s dinner guests someone with a fine voice.
3. In the same pan that the beef was in, put some more oil, and fry the chopped onions for a few minutes (not too long), making sure to shake them around plenty. Then throw them in your pot as well. Go ahead and throw your bay leaf and rosemary in there, too. Salt and pepper. Bring it all back to a boil, then turn the heat down to low.
4. Pit your prunes and cut them up into little pieces. Add these last, once everything else is comfortably simmering and you’ve turned the heat down.
5. Simmer covered for an hour or so, until the meat is tender; also, you shouldn’t have any little bits of prunes left, they should have all melted.
5 1/2. I almost forgot: Before serving, take out the bay leaf and rosemary. If you don’t, I’m not liable if someone chokes and dies.
6. Serve it up on top of potato pancakes or mashed potatoes, and sprinkle with chopped parsley. With the meal, either finish off the six-pack of Extra Stout (if you haven’t already) or have the draft cans available, according to your preference. Make sure you pour them into the appropriate glassware, if you don’t the food will taste awful. Don’t touch the draft bottles, either, they will ruin everything.
Serves 4-8 depending on a) how hungry you are; b) how many potatoes you eat with it; c) how many Guinnesses you drank while cooking.
Let me know what you think.