Category Archives: eat

Spiral Tendrils on the Vine, Luscious Fruit So Divine

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Excuse the iPhone autofill typos

New LA Moms Blog Post 11

Children of Recession: Grow a Row.

“Mommyblogging” & Influence…Conclusion: I’m a Free Range Mama

There’s been a bit of an uproar lately about “mommyblogging” as a business. Some women who’ve been at this longer than me, and have a perspective on women blogging that I trust have said the following:

Queen of Spain asked: what about community? A bright line between editorial versus advertising?

CityMama talks about the FTC’s push to regulate “mommyblogging” as commercial speech.

Kim Moldofsky looked at marketing to women through the lens of the recently released “Nielsen Power Mom Top 50″ list.

At Authenticities, Blagica Bottigliero noted that the term “mommyblogger” seems to be used so much by marketers, it’s suffering from meaning fatigue. (And from that I take it to mean that there’s a lot of variety in the PR/marketing people who are out there as well–many who are interested in promoting socially redeeming products and services and doing their part to help create crucial demand for them.)

UPDATED 5/19/09 TO ADD: BusinessWeek reported on the FTC’s closer scrutiny of review bloggers who are either paid or allowed to keep the product itself. It looks as if there’ll be changes in tax rules governing freebies as well. (h/t QueenofSpain)

NO ONE IS SAYING IT’S WRONG to accept, talk about, be paid for, or blog about things received for review purposes. Least of all me. But what everyone is urging is transparency, and maybe mindfulness, about what it is you’re doing.

So with that in mind, I thought I’d navel-gaze about my own situation. I’ll try to be matter-of-fact and descriptive, in an effort to keep the self-righteousness to a minimum.

I’ve been ad-free ever since starting this blog in February, 2003. That’s partly because I had no thought of starting this blog to make it profitable, not to mention making it public. Who wants to read a zillion and one rantings about how much I hate George W. Bush, with a few cat and baby stories thrown in? (The laugh’s on me, because that site is called DailyKos and it’s both a netroots heavyweight and quite prosperous. Of course they do more than just rant, they’re quite effective in liberal-progressive politics at all levels.)

I unlocked my blog in 2007, and as I mentioned in the comments to Queen of Spain, I mostly regret not going public sooner because then I could’ve tapped into the progressive political/feminist blogosphere sooner.

I briefly dallied with making the blog over and adding an affiliate program since I often review books and movies that I like (or sometimes dislike). But I dropped that idea in favor of more remunerative freelance work. I may yet revive the idea.

After mulling just WHO marketers target when they try to woo “mommybloggers,” I’ve finally decided I must belong to a finicky subset called “Free Range Mamas.” Rather than worry about why WalMart isn’t courting *me*, I think ultimately the bigger issue is this: I don’t live in a way that consumes a lot of the things mainstream moms are supposed to need or buy. And this is on purpose.

  • Huggies or Pampers would never sponsor my blog, because I practiced “[disposable] diaper-free” Elimination Communication with my baby. What diapers I did use were cloth from our local service.
  • About 75% of the time, I made and froze my own baby food when my son was young. So no Earth’s Best sponsorship, even though I liked their products.
  • For the first 20 months of my son’s life, he wore probably 80% hand-me-downs which I was lucky enough to get passed to me in the big karmic circle of used baby clothes. (I was thrilled and considered myself lucky to have them.) Therefore, no Gymboree sponsorship, even though I like their kids’ clothes and have purchased many outfits from them since for my son (though I did make fun of their mama and baby programs because they seemed weirdly chipper and cult-like to me, plus I can’t sing worth a damn).
  • Furniture-wise, I bought a crib and a rocking chair for my infant to sleep in and be rocked to sleep in, and instead used the bassinet to help in co-sleeping and the birthing ball in place of rocking. The crib sat empty and the chair was a place to pile clean laundry. (It turned out my son was most lulled to sleep by vertical bouncy motion as opposed to lateral rocking motion–go figure.) So much for the big baby mega-stores like Babies R Us, Pottery Barn Kids, or Buy Buy Baby sponsoring me.
  • I did splurge on all sorts of noisy and silly toys. And I did scour books and recommendations on toys pretty carefully. But even then I bought lots of wooden toys and specialty education toys from obscure mom and pop websites. (I wish I’d bought more hand-made Etsy toys, but oh, well.)

When I think about what mommybloggers I read as an inexperienced mother to a newborn, what mommyblog websites I visited, I’d have to say Dooce, Mothering.com, Dr. Greene, and the odd BabyCenter or other “mainstream” parenting website with handy developmental charts.

I enjoyed reading Dooce–this was after her post-partum depression breakdown, when she wrote lengthy thousands-of-word-long stories, but before she really blew up big and put ads up on her site. But as read, I also realized that I disagreed with a lot of her attitudes and decisions about parenting. I realized reading her site was like training wheels for my own mothering. Once I didn’t need that reassurance any more, I got less and less pleasure from visiting. Women in my mom’s group and other concerns filled the gap. I’m not saying this is the case for everyone, just describing who, as a mom, has had influence on me as a brand new parent. I’m glad for the much-needed laughs and irreverence I did get from reading Dooce and other, A-list bloggers, but for whatever reason, I don’t seem to read them as much any more.

So, who do I turn to when I want to buy something for my kid? Google, and Consumer Reports. A few trusted moms who were friends first before I ever read their blogs with any frequency. And my own judgment.

Who doesn’t influence me now: Dooce, the 11 Moms of WalMart (I’ve been in a WalMart *once* in my life, and I think all I bought was bananas), and any number of popular, funny, delightful, talented “mommybloggers” who write about products they’ve been given. I enjoy their writing and what they have to say, but many times I lack the inclination to buy what they’re describing.

See, thing is, my theory is that as you get more comfortable in your skin as a mom, and as your kid becomes more idiosyncratically themselves as they get older, the less likely there’ll be a one-size fits all solution. Giving a frozen washcloth to a teething baby to suck on will work on 95% of teething babies out there, barring any unusual circumstances. But finding toys for a kid who likes to take apart your old broken vcr and then make a model car out of it (for example), requires creativity and resourcefulness. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure the easiest way to find such a toy is to send out a big holla to the interwebz and dozens of good ideas will come at you from people who have idiosyncratic children in just the ways yours are. But it probably won’t be from Kits R Us.

So is the upshot that I’m so special and I like the sound of my voice? (No, yes–this IS a personal blog…kidding, and overall, no.) It’s hard to keep from sounding self-righteous any time you explain what you do and why. But bear with me: if there are 26 million women blogging about their lives and families, not all of them think the same.

Knowing the way the world is, I know there are other Free Range Mamas like me. But do we constitute a profitable market, we “live-lightly-on-the-earth-be-peaceful” people? We big city and suburban greenies tentatively dipping our toes into our vegetable gardens, and wondering if it’s against city ordinances to have a goat keep your grass trimmed?

What if living in environmentally sustainable ways is completely counter to capitalism? What supply chain am I keeping afloat if I grow my own vegetables? What hardware store is selling one less lawn mower if a goat cuts my grass instead of a mower? (On the other hand, my need for a veterinarian rises in proportion to owning a goat.)

Point is, my needs are much more modest if I forego the convenience and expense of fast-food, mega-chain stores and their products. At this point, I pretty much have it down to Lowe’s, Vons, Whole Foods, JC Penney, and Target. And even then that seems like a lot.

I don’t even watch tv, or subscribe to cable. (I know, how Amish of me!)

If there’s something on tv I want to see, I usually wait for the clip to show up on YouTube. If there’s a movie my kid wants to see, we buy the dvd or borrow it from the library. (Yes, I’m purposely teaching him that commercials are an annoyance. Because even Gen Xers whose heads are filled with old tv commercials and jingles–like myself–skip through them when they TiVo the programs they want to watch.)

Well, what the hell DO I buy? Books, music, movies, food, clothes, and things that make my house more comfortable and green. Fun experiences and things to do them with, like bikes, scooters, skis.

Still, those aren’t the big ticket items with built-in planned obsolescence (like cars or new appliances or the street-grade crack that’s the near endless need for disposable diapers) that would make a company go out of its way to court me.

Take away the corporations that do all the ad-buying, and who’s left?

Much of the above has led me to conclude that the part of “mommyblogging” that’s cheek by jowl with giant-ultra-mega-hyper corporations works best when that persona is politically center-right. (Did I say person? No, I said persona. Blogging persona.)

And those of us who are center-left, who’d really rather not blog with any connection to WalMart, for example, won’t be finding any corporate sponsors soon. (That’s why you won’t see me crying that I don’t get free trips to Disney World–I wrote a whole as-yet-to-be-published novel making fun of Disney World, for pete’s sake. My spouse worked at Disney and had SILVER PASSES and I still made fun of Disney. I think it’s both a delightful and ridiculous place.)

Because there’s something about us Free Range Mamas that’s like herding cats. Cats with long tails.

Theoretically the long tail was going to set us creative types free and create the next worker’s paradise. So far? It hasn’t. But the interwebz that are guided by the ethos “information wants to be free” have also been darn busy corroding existing corporate business models. (I’m waiting for Hulu to explode free tv as we know it into smithereens.)

What’s ironic is that the anarchic potential of the web–to flatten hierarchy, make instantly accessible new groups of people who you’d otherwise never bump up against IRL–is really shaping up to be an arena that reproduces the same power relations that are at play offline. Who are self-anointed social media gurus at big tech conferences? Mostly white men. Who are mostly corporate-anointed “mommyblogging” social media mavens, with very few exceptions? Mostly white women.

Do I influence these people? I doubt it. Am I upset that I don’t influence them? No, why would I be?

But by the same token, why would it be assumed that a “mommyblogger” talking about a product or service would automatically influence me just because I too have blogged about my family life?

I’m just as likely to buy something a friend has told me about, as I am to hear about it discussed by real people (not sock pupperts) in a forum, as I am to have googled around to see what I can glean about it myself. So maybe that’s something for PR/marketing people to think about: is “mommyblogger” too big an umbrella term? Are there niches within that?

Because I’m much more a Free Range Mama Lifeblogger/Political Blogger than a “mommyblogger” as WalMart or even Nickelodeon would understand it. I’m fickle. Picky about who I listen to. And not automatically inclined to believe “bigger=better.” If I ever was to be sponsored by a big corporation like Clorox, for example, I’d want to know when they plan to stop offering their bleach cleaners altogether. I’d be more than happy to praise their ecological spray cleaners to the skies, but I wouldn’t consider the fact that they sponsor me or give me free products a down payment on my critical silence. (They give me nothing and have never heard of me aside from me pestering them lightly for bee’s waxed non-bleached wax paper, I assure you. This is purely an example.) See what I mean about Free Range Mamas being a more prickly, difficult bunch? That center-left orientation is probably too pesky for a corporation to want to tangle with. What corporation wants a spokesperson all up in their grill when they can find someone who’ll be much more aligned with them to begin with?

And yet. Most moms I know aren’t Stepford Women. They’re a snarky, lively, irreverent bunch. They can smell fakery and corporate shill from a mile away. Many of them, like me, who dearly want a greener world for the next generation, wouldn’t hesitate to ask WHY? HOW? WHY NOT? Why isn’t this made in a way that lessens its carbon footprint? How did this get here, from an unregulated factory in China or the Marianas Islands, or is it at least made in the U.S. where product safety standards are supposed to matter and be enforceable?

Understand this: you mess with a woman’s kids by misrepresenting your product’s safety, and you can expect hell to rain down on your head.

And I think we’ll start seeing more of this scenario: blogging mom X connected to company Y is happy to continue the relationship until a random horrible scandal befalls company Y. Then, instead of enjoying the perks, blogging mom X will be tarred with the same negative publicity as company Y.

Because when a person becomes associated with a company, the company enjoys the “just folks” authenticity and reputation of the blogger, but the blogger also gets tied to the brand of the company for better or worse.

Though I tend to veer away from corporations and have relatively modest consumption habits, we’re aren’t this way, as some might believe, because we lack money or solely because of the bad economy. We’re upwardly-striving, aspiring upper-middle class people like many others of our education and generation. I like pretty shoes, fancy dinners, and nice vacations. Occasionally I enjoy those things. But I can’t say I organize my life around their acquisition.

We’re this way–I am this kind of Free Range Mama–because I’m a citizen first, consumer second; because I was raised by frugal immigrant parents and I can’t (nor do I want to) shake that; because I’m trying to live in truly more sustainable ways so my kid and other kids inherit a habitable world; because the primeval quality of child-rearing keeps us honest in a time-shifted, value-shifted world; because I had a good education and trust my ability to filter the world; because I believe that authority comes from integrity and authenticity, and that people around me can have as much authority as messages that come from “on high.”

Thing is, I’ve never viewed the women’s blogosphere as uniform. And among we blogging women who are mothers, there’s a million and one ways to do it. What I find sad is the possibility that the differences among us stem not from the divinity of our own real experiences, grounded in the truly unique tragedies and moving triumphs of our lives, but variations in quirk and vocal tics while we all tell the same “Weird Places I Have [Huggies logo TM] Diapered My Baby” stories. Is that comforting, or stultifying? I’m not sure, and the balance changes from moment to moment.

I think about being a Free Range Mama at a moment when sustainability is on everyone’s lips. Sure, for a brief moment in the late ’90s Safeway offered canvas bags at the grocery store. Then, a bunch of things happened and we all had national amnesia and forgot, until 2006 or so and Al Gore’s documentary An Inconvenient Truth woke people up again. And now we’re trying to remember to bring our cloth or mesh shopping bags again, because even little things matter and we’re doing what we can.

Will I forget about our compost heap in the back yard? Life gets busy, people change, get sloppy, busy, or forgetful. Our attention spans are short. We’re human and only do things when we feel urgently pressed to. But, right now our son thinks it’s natural that fruit and vegetable scraps get dumped out there. He automatically asks if there’s recycling. He sees us debating whether, when, and how to get solar panels to reduce the cost of our electricity bill. He sees solar panels powering parts of the Mars Rover. I want him growing up to believe a different and better world is not only possible, but a completely mundane expectation. It’s effortful for us, his parents, to learn new habits and do things differently after decades of living unsustainably. But one of the most powerful motivators is love; if we raise him to expect that doing things the green way is how it’s supposed to be, won’t he go on to fulfill that expectation? The endpoint of our evolution should be his starting point for growth. That’s how progress happens. And maybe this time that’s why we’ll keep composting and trying to figure out how to localize our produce and doing what we can to make change a permanent part of our lives. Maybe this time the cloth bags will stick.

Let me know if you’re a Free Range Mama (or guy) too. If not, no harm, no foul. Ten years ago, I never thought I’d have a compost pile either, or grow my own sugar snap peas. Ten years ago, I didn’t have a son and I didn’t blog either.

[Okay, I'm taking cover because this being the Interwebz, someone will inevitably take umbrage with what I've written and assume that the way I live my life is how I think you should be living yours. Um, actually, no...I'm too busy doing things the long, hard way (made my child homemade baby food! ;) who does that? crazy!) to want to manage someone else's life too. I think I've simply arrived at some sort of peace about why I don't have zillions of corporate sponsors. I'm the wrong match for most of them.]

Behold, the Deeply Tanned Turkey

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Isn’t this picture sorta food-porny? Like it came from a Williams-Sonoma catalogue?

“Black Friday” Annual Sugarless Holiday Cookie Recipe

While you’re still bloated from eating turkey, pie, stuffing, cornbread, yams, greens of some kind, and cranberry sauce, I’m going to go ahead and re-post my sugarless holiday cookie recipe, in anticipation of the scariest shopping day of the year, “Black Friday.”

Make cookies, not debt.

Japon Bistro, Pasadena

It’s been ages since we last went to dinner at a nice restaurant.

A few quick notes about Japon Bistro, Pasadena:

  • miso-sake cod: excellent, though the cut of cod could’ve been better, less bony
  • alaskan king crab legs tempura: long, leggy slabs of meat, heaven. So what if crabs are basically giant weird sea spiders?
  • tuna toro sushi: good, though I’ve had better
  • halibut sashimi with warm olive oil and sesame oil: truly outstanding–near translucent slivers of halibut with warmed oils and curled slivers of scallion. It’s like tuna poke, but refined a thousand times in texture and flavor

It’s unassuming on the outside, but nicely decorated on the inside. By the front door there’s a beautiful rounded stone garden and an elaborate gong that someone will sound if it’s your birthday.

As we sat there enjoying dinner before seeing a play, I mused aloud to HB that we can know intellectually how the glittery Jazz age devolved into the patched and faded Great Depression, but we lack the imagination to feel it viscerally. We’re incredulous that progress doesn’t unfold in an ever-upward, ever-improving telos. We think because time unspools in one direction only, that of course human endeavor will also, when in fact history is hardly linear but rather spiral-shaped and recursive. I mentioned to him a random tweet I’d read earlier from someone in the southwest, I think it was–”No one in Houston’s gotten the memo about the recession, mall parking lot just as crowded as ever.” And I wondered, who is at the mall shopping now? What about the rising unemployment rate, home foreclosures, etc? Everywhere I turn, I hear from another person about a 30%, 34%, or even 50% pay cut.

Is it that we’re incapable of imagining hardship, or unwilling to?

Do the doomsayers learning how to tend goats or build chicken coops seem ridiculous (indoor chickens wearing diapers), unreal, overanxious? Or well-prepared and visionary?

I’ve joked about raising edible fish in our little pond and chickens in our yard, and getting a small greenhouse for the southern exposure in the back. But HB and I actually have a contingency plan in case things get really really bad. Will it work? Who can say until we reach the point of having to try it?

I’ve Heard the Whales Singing

Call me Ishmael?

Woke up at an odd hour much earlier this morning with the following strange dream:

I was on vacation and happened to go boating with friends. (I think this was Hawaii.) We were not too far from shore when suddenly I spotted an enormous whale tail and then very rapidly following, the huge, black head and body of a giant sperm whale. It was pleasant and wondrous at first, then all of us watching the whale come directly under our boat were filled with a slight feeling of panicky dread, as we realized the whale could easily crest from under us and tip our vessel over. Or heave itself into the air on top of our boat, crushing us. (It wasn’t showing any signs of the latter; I think we all simultaneously realized how powerful and indifferent to our safety the whale’s will was.)

So as the whale sort of roller coastered in and out of the air and depths of water near our boat, our emotions rocketed around from elation to delight to abject terror.

At one point, the whale lunged into the air very close to me, maybe 20 feet away. I remember looking at its boxy head, the rubbery charcoal grey of its gleaming body, and its black eye. The eye closest to me opened wide. It rolled a little in its socket; I could see its whites. Reflected in the blackness were easily as many thoughts and emotions as we humans were experiencing in that moment. That split second in my dream seemed to last eons-the whale suspended in air, me agape and planted on the boat’s rolling deck, the water foaming and rising up around the whale’s body.

Then, I woke up.

And wondered if my subconscious was delivering a message to me about failure, a giant metaphorical Twitterese for “whale tail fail.”

Dream logic. Odd.

HB had a strange dream too. He came to tell me that all he could remember was that he had the dream, not what it was.

We decided it was from the bright-red Wuxi pork belly we’d eaten at a nearby (and very good) Chinese restaurant near our house. It was too vivid a color to not also provoke hallucinogenic dreams.

My New Neighborhood, In a Nutshell

Where I live now is on the lip of the San Gabriel Valley. The San Gabriel Valley has some of the best Chinese food outside China. No. Lie.

There are two communities with outstanding schools K-12 here: community A is largely white and Asian in racial/cultural composition. Community B is slightly more diverse, with a racial/cultural makeup of mostly white, Asian and Latino.

One of the reasons we wanted to move is to expose the Unreliable Narrator to more Chinese language study, and a geographic and gastronomic community of Chinese/Taiwanese and other Asian Americans. Our old neighborhood didn’t really have this feature. And we’re not really connected to Chinatown, which is located in downtown Los Angeles. But Community A is full of wealthy, ladies who lunch and mah-jong playing tai-tais, many of whom are recently immigrated. I just don’t have much in common with them either. What on earth would we talk about? Could I invite them to an Obama fundraiser, or are they too busy worrying about the latest Taiwanese election? (Not that there’s anything wrong with that, necessarily. It’s just a matter of emphasis.) Hmmm. Years from now, my kid and theirs would be locked in deadly competition for entrance into Harvard. I just don’t know if I have what it takes to turn my kid into a grade-grubbing automaton with unexpected thug tendencies, a la Better Luck Tomorrow.

Also, I’m of the opinion that white + another nonwhite group does not equal diverse. There have to be at least 3 different groups going on for it to even start making sense. Community B has this, although nothing will ever equal living in Oakland, CA, which has almost the perfect proportions of whites: Asians: Latinos: African Americans. But still. You do the best you can, and having freaking unbelievably good Vietnamese food nearby? Well, that makes up for a world of ills.

I knew Community B was the right place for us when one Saturday afternoon, we stopped at a historic old sody shoppe and had a hot dog, fries, and a chocolate milkshake served by diffident pimply-faced local teens, and across the corner a bunch of anti-war, pro-Obama supporters set up their signs and the other locals driving on through honked with appreciation.

Those are our values, right there. Old fashioned virtues and commie-mommie-ism. Love it, or bite me.