If the above-mentioned salmon Jamie Oliver is whoring comes from Loch Duart, maybe it is not so whorish after all. Certainly not Burger King level whorish. Judging from Sainsburys website, though, it does not. Sauté Wed. has more, including the ad itself and Jamie's reply to the unwashed who populate his message boards (and rather more patient explanations of why you should care than I can muster at this point), but the funny thing is this: there is, in fact, no mention anywhere of who is farming this salmon, or where, not to mention how. Suffice it to say that the methods are undoubtedly less sustainable than Loch Duart's, but it is really pretty shocking that no one has bothered to ID the source.
And speaking of seafood, it is hardly surprising that even when we manage to regulate a fishery before we wipe it out, someone will still figure out how to fuck it up. (By the way, dinner last night: dungeness. Sides: none. Utensils: hands. Condiments: none. I did try some lemon (no yuzu on hand), but it was, of course, superfluous. I grew up in a lobstering town, and am therefore more impervious to the charms of crustaceans than most people, but until you eat a dungeness, you haven't lived. One will suffice, though [I don't understand why all-you-can-eat-style crustacean gluttony is countenanced in polite society, but the whole thing is distasteful and wrong. They are bugs, after all.])
It's not like my commentary on the food media is really indispensible at the moment, since everyone is obviously mailing it in. (Did the Times even print any articles yesterday? I didn't notice). Everyone, that is, except our beloved Regina Schrambling (and we're not the only ones), who heroically managed to sneak "the internets" into her excellent Christmas article yesterday. Mmmm... bizcochos. (Strangely, she reports that the post-aRoccolyptic Caviar and Banana is pretty good. Whatever you say, honey. I guess it can't be any worse). We're trying to figure out a way to keep her confined to bed for maximum snark output without having to break her femur again...
On the heels of the NAFTA maize report, "Mexican lawmakers approved a new law on Tuesday to regulate genetically modified crops, but opponents said it catered more to the interests of big business than to the protection of centuries-old biodiversity." [Why do no Mexican newspapers have usable websites?] Also in the news: see Mike Lee's article on the UCS biopharming report, replete with choice industry quote.
Lastly, I committed a small injustice the other day when casting aspersions on this year's crop of food books: I forgot about America's Founding Food: The Story of New England Cooking by Keith Stavely and Kathleen Fitzgerald, which is a well-considered revision of some particularly noxious historical pieties... and, it's entertaining. Seriously. Also -- only because it's so obvious -- I somehow neglected Robb Walsh's Tex-Mex Cookbook, which is at least as good as his BBQ book (that is to say: certain celebrity chefs, whether or not of the coffee-table variety, can kiss my ass).
[Between all this talk of knobs and lochs, I (naturally) starting thinking about Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides with Samuel Johnson. Much more entertaining than the usual shit you find on the internets!]