Food Chat: Vgë Café

— by Hannah Lee

Vegetarians, vegans, and diners on a budget can cheer for the opening of Vgë (pronounced vee-gee) Café in Bryn Mawr in late April.  People like me who like stories of second-chances can hope for the best for owner Fernando Peralta, a Brazilian who’d spent 17 years in finance when he decided to switch directions.  He went to culinary school at Le Cordon Bleu Institute of Culinary Arts in Pittsburgh and, although he has been a vegetarian for seven years, he studied, prepared, and tasted the meat according to the curriculum.  Later, he did an externship in Akron, OH, at a Mediterranean-Italian vegetarian restaurant owned by Chrissie Hynde from the band The Pretenders.

More after the jump.
Why did he choose this location?  Peralta said the college-aged population and health-conscious residents in the area seemed like a great fit for his concept.  He said he’d traveled through most of the Northeast to do research and find a suitable spot for his restaurant.  “This area seemed like a phenomenal location,” Peralta said. “In the beginning, I was envisioning more sophisticated fine dining, but in this economy people can’t afford it.”

Peralta said that he and his friends have been frustrated by the shortage of affordable, fresh, and healthy choices for a casual meal.  Being vegetarians didn’t make it any easier.  “While some chains are making a true effort to bring healthier choices to their menus, the vast majority of quick-service options are based on empty carbohydrates (refined grains), bad fats, canned vegetables, and frozen or fried, highly processed foods,” said Peralta.  “Not to mention the excess sodium and high-fructose corn syrup, found in virtually every processed food in this industry.”

So, the new café offers whole grains instead of refined ones; baked foods instead of deep fried; natural sweeteners like applesauce or agave instead of refined sugars; dark leafy greens (richer in anti-oxidants than pale lettuces such as iceberg), and no canned vegetables.  The menu is animal-free and dairy-free, so the food has zero cholesterol.  They also eschew the use of saturated and hydrogenated fats.  Every item on the menu has less than 500 calories.
Peralta is developing a relationship with the local farmers to reduce his carbon footprint.  Items which are not available locally year-round, sometimes he buys frozen.  He said, “there are many studies indicating that quick-freezing vegetables will retain more nutrients and vitamins than transporting them at room temperature, when vitamins are more susceptible to oxidizing.”  Peralta cooks the food on location, from the scratch, from fresh ingredients, so he can control what goes into every item he sells.

Peralta has chosen for his café energy-efficient lighting and appliances, recyclable and compostable cups, packaging, bags and utensils. He is in the process getting the “green” certification from the Green Restaurant Association.

Vgë Café, located at 845 Lancaster Avenue in Bryn Mawr, is open Mondays- Thursdays from 11:30 am to 8:30 pm and Fridays-Saturdays from 11:30 am to 9:30 pm.  Catering available.  

Book Chat: An Economist Gets Lunch

By Hannah Lee

It’s about time that an economist weighs in on the foodie scene and the locavore movement.  Despite the negative advance press about Tyler Cowen’s new book, An Economist Gets Lunch: New Rules for Everyday Foodies, I kept an open mind.  I was rewarded by a delightful read and I learned lots of fascinating strategies for finding good, affordable food, especially when one is away from home.

More after the jump.
Tyler CowenA professor at George Mason University, Cowen is a foodie who keeps his passion in check with a studied knowledge of market forces.  Since food is a product of economic supply and demand, his three principles to guide him in his food choices are to “figure out where the supplies are fresh, the suppliers are creative, and the demanders are informed.”

It was on a trip to Nicaragua, a place not known to offer good food, that Cowen first developed his tactics for finding decent meals. Upon arriving in the country past lunchtime, he engaged a “relatively old” taxi driver — chosen for safety (he’s survived his own driving?), good local stories, and information — and offered him both lunch and payment to find “something really special to eat, something very Nicaraguan.”  So, where would the driver take him, but the best that he would himself want to eat and on his client’s expense?  The lunch of quesillos cost him $12, including the bonus payment.  (He knew to be wary of agua corriente (running water), so he ordered bottled drinks and he was amazed to learn that his leftover drinks were poured into plastic bags, placed on ice, and held for re-sale.)  The only bad meal he had was seafood, but that led to another tip, “when donkey carts are common and women carry baskets on their heads, eat your fish right by the ocean or lake,” because the transportation is slow and refrigeration is rudimentary.

Cowen challenges the snobbery of food writers, commentators, and foodies and their mistaken adherence to three rules: the best food is expensive; large agribusiness is bad; and consumers are not a trusted source of innovation. Despite being a foodie and an environmentalist, I was impressed by the data he uses to support his debunking of these guidelines.  His chapter on the agricultural revolution convinced me that technological progress and agricultural commercialization have brought major and lasting improvements to much of the world.  (I was reminded that the first agricultural revolution was when the Aztecs learned to release the goodness of corn with the addition of mineral lime.)  Finally, his chapter on a greener planet may irk those who’ve made a conscious decision to leave a smaller carbon footprint.  Cowen writes that shopping locally may not be the best choice because transportation costs are only 11% of the total energy cost of food.  My take-home lesson was that foods delivered by cargo ship have the lowest environmental impact (as “floating things are much easier to move”) while air freight has the highest.  Another lesson for readers is to reduce our meat intake.  A Carnegie Mellon study has found that cutting back on red meat one day a week does more for the environment than eating all locally sources foods for all of our meals.

In a chapter on why American food got so bad, he implicated the Prohibition, children, and television.  Furthermore, during World War II, Americans actually ate more meat, but it was of poor quality, including canned meat (Spam, with its high fat and salt content).  Europe, which suffered actual food shortages, did not turn to convenience food (they had no factories to produce them), so what food they had tasted better.  The only bright spot in our history was the arrival of immigrants who vastly improved and diversified our food culture.

The chapter on the American supermarket and Cowen’s month-long experiment to shop only in an Asian market dovetailed with my experience shopping in such markets where the selection of greens is varied and cheap (offered as loss leaders to bring in the customers), the seafood is fresh and smelly which disgusts Americans, and the staff is neither friendly nor fluent in English.  His advice to not block our creativity is to eschew the convenience of the conventional supermarket.

The book has chapters on barbecue, the ultimate “slow food”; why hospitals, cinemas, and city centers have such bad food, and how to find the best meals cheaply.  The chapter on Asian food is a contrast to standard travel guides, in that Cowen does not list best restaurants, but how to find the best food.  The five countries that he deems as having the worst Chinese food are: Italy, Germany, Costa Rica, Argentina, and Chile (for different reasons).  Our family’s worst meal in a Chinese establishment occurred in San Jose, the capital of Costa Rica, where the Chinese folk are descendants of immigrants of the 19th century, thus out of touch with their cultural touchstones.  He details the traits of the different Asian cuisines and how they fare in America.  The chapter ends with his prescription for how to get a decent Chinese meal at any place.

Here’s a recommendation from Cowen that you would never find in a guidebook:

“In a lot of restaurants, it is a propitious omen if the diners are screaming at each other and appear to be fighting and pursuing blood feuds.  It’s a sign they are regular customers and that they feel at home in the restaurant.  It’s a sign they go there a lot.  Few people show up at a strange restaurant and behave that way, but they might do so in a place where they know the proprietor and staff.  A lot of Chinese restaurants are full of screaming Chinese patrons — don’t ask me if it’s fighting.  I have no idea– but it is a sign I want to be there too.”

 Cowen does not know that three Chinese speaking together do sound like they’re screaming.

The chapter on Mexican food is a case study for the impact of law and wealth on the quality and variety of food.  Cowen compared the sister cities of El Paso and Ciudad Juárez, which were one until after the Mexican-American War of 1848, for their respective meat, cheese (made by Mennonites in Mexico!), lard, tortilla, and tomatoes.  Hands down, the Mexican food is tastier, but the American food is more varied, consistent, and fresh.  He noted that Mexicans regard vegetarians as odd or absurd.  Dietary restriction, other than for Lent, is a notion not well appreciated.

The best chapter for world travelers is the one on how to find great food anywhere and how and why the food in countries are different.  In France (and only in France), Cowen recommends using a Michelin guidebook to identify the cheapest restaurants, i.e., no stars and one or two forks.  Two-forked places are “comfortable,” but the starred places are awarded for culinary innovation and the chef’s prestige.  He writes, “I don’t need the extra innovation and probably I am trying to avoid the innovation.  I seek the perfect pot-au-feu.”  He further describes the best methods for finding good food in Tokyo, Singapore, India, London, Germany, Switzerland, Italy, Sicily, Spain, and Istanbul.  I’ll try to apply his strategies on our summer vacation in Scotland.

The Locavore Movement and the Religious Jew


— by Hannah Lee

My favorite non-fiction book in 2007 was Barbara Kingsolver’s Animal, Vegetable, Miracle: A Year of Food Life, written with her biologist husband, Steven Hopp, and their two children about their experiment in growing all of their food on their own land in rural southwest Virginia.  It also powered the growth of the locavore movement.  I found the memoir fascinating in its intelligence, its honesty (mistakes were made!) and the family’s sense of humor. My favorite anecdote was when Kingsolver quipped to her friends that when you’re ranked as “number 74 (on a Doomsday author’s book about the dangers of 100 people who were destroying America), you try harder,” as she endeavored to eviscerate a turkey.

In Wednesday’s New York Times (its Dining section being the highlight of the week for me), readers learned what the family has been doing since their milestone year.  They wanted to expand the lessons learned to their blue-collar, Appalachian community.  First, they contemplated creating a year-round farmers’ market but the growing season is short.  So, Hopp decided that a restaurant would be more viable, one in which the produce, meat and cheese would be sourced locally.  As reported by Jane Black, “Coffee and tea would be allowed because they are dried, but they should be organic, fair trade or both.”

How has the Harvest Table, as Hopp’s restaurant is named, fared since it was launched in October 2007?   It’s been difficult, and they have yet to make a profit.  This isn’t a “progressive, urban enclave” such as exists in Brooklyn or Berkeley, so most of their neighbors have not even bothered to step in, thinking the meal would be too expensive.  As for attempts to reaching beyond the choir (of like-minded folks), you first have to get them in the door.  And the labels, “farm fresh,” “organic” and “local” do not muster the excitement they do in urban communities where entrepreneurs (food impresarios, I call them) charge up to $200 for a dinner served in the fields (as I heard reported on NPR last week).  So, they keep the prices low (comparable to Applebee’s though the reporter noted that the portions are larger in the chain restaurants) and the profile humble, the opposite of the marketer’s urge to scale up in sophistication.  Black gives an example: “What might be called “fennel pasta with pecans” in Brooklyn and served with a detailed description of the vegetable provenance, is “pasta primavera” here.

But Hopp’s quote that hit me personally was this: “We are always trying to figure out how to educate people more, but with the recognition that most people don’t want a lecture.”  I’ve just returned from a visit with my daughter in Chicago, where I stayed in the lovely home of a young couple found through the Airbnb lodging-rentals website.  My host was a New Zealander (with an American wife) and he’d never  met a religious Jew before.  He was curious about some tenets of the Jewish faith.  So, do we give the short, flippant answer or do we attempt the more thoughtful and accurate explanation but risk losing our audience?  My daughter has been through the cauldron of fire before when we transferred her from a religious high school to our local acclaimed public high school (the beloved alma mater of basketball star Koby Bryant) and it was during the social studies freshman unit on the Middle East and she was called upon to explain all of Jewish past, present, and future.  Trying to educate and defend Israeli politics is a challenge far beyond most 14-year-olds.  But, she did engage her peers and she’s matured into a thinking, articulate adult.

So, we found ourselves having a more engaged conversation about faith and ritual with our host than is encountered at the usual Shabbat table.  What struck me anew is that every Jew must conduct herself as a diplomat, a model representative of her people (forgive my use of the distaff (feminine) possessive pronoun).   The people you encounter may not have ever met another earnest, committed Jew before.  You may have this one opportunity to give them not only a positive impression of Yiddishkeit (Jewishness), but you may also have the privilege and challenge to un-do and clarify erroneous impressions conveyed by others, who were less careful, less knowledgeable, less sophisticated.  Would you pass your test?  This may have been our test for The Three Weeks of introspection as we Jews head towards Tisha B’Av, the saddest day of the Jewish calendar, which falls on August 8th this year.