Enjoyed reading the recipe as much as your lovely narrative, thank you.
My California orchards and oaks are beset with an ever-growing flock of wild pigeons who've driven out many of the native birds and seasonal visitors, and I've long despaired over how to ethically thin this hoard of noisy, um, unsanitary interlopers.
When I realized that I grow or stock every single ingredient (or its western analog,) here on the ranch (including the apple smoked wild boar bacon and wild greens,) the whole piece coalesced for me. Turns out I, too, am noticing "coincidences" regarding this yummy little bird. . .
thats great! you should build a dovecote! I’m sure some of the members at Squab Producers of California could point you in the right direction. From what I understand, it’s almost zero maintenance once it’s set up and it attracts the birds naturally.
Beautifully written Mike! Unfortunately I had a unpleasant squab run-in at the height of my morning sickness and I don’t know if I could face one again. Zoraida suggested just the broth- sounds possible. Congratulations to Katie and Julia, I love the name Paloma!
Thank you for sharing your family history woven into cultural culinary history that I previously knew little of. I enjoy reading historical food writing that involves many unheard of to me, ingredients. This was right up my alley, with medicinal folklore that so many recipes represent and I have added to my cooking when possible, as they usually provide added nourishment.
I grew up in a household that cared with canned chicken soup, ginger ale and saltines when we had a cold - which I am grateful for. But the first time I made homemade chicken soup and how that recipe has evolved over time is testament to every home cook that shared their story.
Whether you eat animals or not, it is possible to be transported by this beautifully written piece. Soulful, elegant and hopeful. The perfect mix of personal, cultural and historical. My very best wishes to your sister and niece.
Was it hard for you to become vegetarian (or vegan)? Cravings for meat and seafood are so woven into my fibers, I just haven’t ever managed to stop. I believe we can eat meat sustainably, but it’s also true that even the most humanely farmed animals would rather we don’t eat them—so as my wise six year old once said as we sat down to a steak dinner “this is mean to the cow.”
It was a gradual process. First meat, then dairy. Now even seafood. Now that it is possible to buy plant-based products - and soon meat made from cell cultures - I do not think we can continue justifying treating animals in such a manner. The way I see it, every time I go to the supermarket and do not buy meat, fish and dairy I am contributing in a small way.
I cringe whenever I pull up a carrot or a beet (yes, they do scream out an electro-chemical warning to their brethren,) or pluck a growing apple from my trees. And every time I inhale, I kill off half a jillion entirely innocent living, breathing microbes who probably want to live just as much as I do.
Vegetarianism is just as fraught as the humane killing of meat animals; the only difference is that carrots don't have big brown eyes. What we kill to survive all depends on our perspective and our tolerance for inflicting violence on our fellow earthly creatures; the best we can do, regardless of our culinary or moral preferences and rationalizations, is to try to do so kindly and respectfully. (And I say this having been a partial lunch to a fellow feral beast.) YMMV. :)
Enjoyed reading the recipe as much as your lovely narrative, thank you.
My California orchards and oaks are beset with an ever-growing flock of wild pigeons who've driven out many of the native birds and seasonal visitors, and I've long despaired over how to ethically thin this hoard of noisy, um, unsanitary interlopers.
When I realized that I grow or stock every single ingredient (or its western analog,) here on the ranch (including the apple smoked wild boar bacon and wild greens,) the whole piece coalesced for me. Turns out I, too, am noticing "coincidences" regarding this yummy little bird. . .
thats great! you should build a dovecote! I’m sure some of the members at Squab Producers of California could point you in the right direction. From what I understand, it’s almost zero maintenance once it’s set up and it attracts the birds naturally.
Beautifully written Mike! Unfortunately I had a unpleasant squab run-in at the height of my morning sickness and I don’t know if I could face one again. Zoraida suggested just the broth- sounds possible. Congratulations to Katie and Julia, I love the name Paloma!
oh no! Maybe chicken soup for you then
Extraordinary story. Poignantly laced with love, history and the great gift of generosity that is cooking for others.
thank you, Naz!
Thank you for sharing your family history woven into cultural culinary history that I previously knew little of. I enjoy reading historical food writing that involves many unheard of to me, ingredients. This was right up my alley, with medicinal folklore that so many recipes represent and I have added to my cooking when possible, as they usually provide added nourishment.
I grew up in a household that cared with canned chicken soup, ginger ale and saltines when we had a cold - which I am grateful for. But the first time I made homemade chicken soup and how that recipe has evolved over time is testament to every home cook that shared their story.
Thank you for the recipes too.
thanks for reading! still, nothing beats chicken soup
Loved reading this story and the sentiment behind it!
thank you!
Unnecessarily cruel.
Whether you eat animals or not, it is possible to be transported by this beautifully written piece. Soulful, elegant and hopeful. The perfect mix of personal, cultural and historical. My very best wishes to your sister and niece.
much appreciated, Beverly
How could I have forgotten to add culinary ! Herewith the correction: The perfect mix of personal, cultural, historical and culinary !
There is no more reason to eat animals, tasty or not.
Was it hard for you to become vegetarian (or vegan)? Cravings for meat and seafood are so woven into my fibers, I just haven’t ever managed to stop. I believe we can eat meat sustainably, but it’s also true that even the most humanely farmed animals would rather we don’t eat them—so as my wise six year old once said as we sat down to a steak dinner “this is mean to the cow.”
It was a gradual process. First meat, then dairy. Now even seafood. Now that it is possible to buy plant-based products - and soon meat made from cell cultures - I do not think we can continue justifying treating animals in such a manner. The way I see it, every time I go to the supermarket and do not buy meat, fish and dairy I am contributing in a small way.
I cringe whenever I pull up a carrot or a beet (yes, they do scream out an electro-chemical warning to their brethren,) or pluck a growing apple from my trees. And every time I inhale, I kill off half a jillion entirely innocent living, breathing microbes who probably want to live just as much as I do.
Vegetarianism is just as fraught as the humane killing of meat animals; the only difference is that carrots don't have big brown eyes. What we kill to survive all depends on our perspective and our tolerance for inflicting violence on our fellow earthly creatures; the best we can do, regardless of our culinary or moral preferences and rationalizations, is to try to do so kindly and respectfully. (And I say this having been a partial lunch to a fellow feral beast.) YMMV. :)