When you buy local, the money stays in the neighborhoods, but it’s kept out of the hands of farmers in the developing world who need it most.

When you buy organic, you benefit corporate control of the agriculture industries: http://www.cornucopia.org/2013/05/who-owns-organics-updated/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=who-owns-organics-updated.

Terms like “heirloom” or “artisanal” have no meaning outside of the marketing folks who created them.

Going back nearly 24 hours: I tended bar at our annual fundraiser for Project Hip Hop.  I’m on the board, and each year I serve beer and wine and chat and enjoy the pleasant vibes.

Moving forward: Morels, morels, and morels.

And, of course, Roy Haynes in the wings, tomorrow night, still drumming away at 88!

It was a fine car, a Lincoln, and the water bottle and mints were fresh.

I had to give “tips” during the three minute interview on WGN.  I gave tips.  The host was lots of fun.  The station was huge, filled with studios, one of which was a place where “Bozo the Clown,” had one of many franchises.  Bozo was sold as a franchise, and stations that bought the format, as WGN did, had their own actors, scripts, and so on.

Here’s a link to my interview: http://wgntv.com/2013/05/20/author-scott-haas-back-of-the-house-the-secret-life-of-a-restaurant.

I had thought that there would be food at the airport, but the place I had in mind was in a different terminal than the one I was exiting from so it was a matter of vodka and crackers, which is a good thing if you are hungry.

By the time we reached Atlanta, the hunger had become a preoccupation and Dreiser’s, “The Titan,” wasn’t enough of a distraction, but fortunately a BBQ place had a foothold there and pulled pork and onion rings and a double gin later, and things settled down quickly.

And today?  MORELS arrived from a friend in Idaho who picked them on Sunday.  A big box.  So we’re talking morels, ramps, asparagus, risotto, and duck breast.

Another day, another mushroom.

The questions differed from those asked at non-industry events or with media.  In contrast to questions about crazy chefs and where I like to eat, the audience asked about generational differences in kitchens and among customers, and spoke thoughtfully about communication and motivation.

I trolled the huge convention booths afterwards, and was delighted by the excitement and the knowledge.  The Japanese booth had a fine demonstration of sukiyaki.  I sat next to a man who may have expressed annoyance with my question to the chef cooking the beef about gradations.  The chef had said that five exist in Japan, but actually there are twelve.  It was that kind of day.

Later, much later, I took a ninety minute boat tour organized perhaps by a Chicago architectural school, and learned an enormous amount about the stunning buildings that line the river.

Even later I went to Blackbird: It’s a wonderful restaurant, and my friend Patricia, a very well known chef, suggested tasting menus, as it was easier than choosing, and subsequently we had perfectly plated dishes of sturgeon, hamachi, lamb, pea soup, and all sorts of wonderful vegetables.  The kitchen knew her, and they had been introduced to me via the book, and so of course we were slammed blissfully.

Today it’s live TV–three minutes–re the book, and then many hours in airports, which I love for the disorientation that ironically invokes reflection, and then home to the back of my house.

I’ve little idea why I came here.  I am giving a talk on, “Back of the House,” for one hour at 10 A.M. at the National Restaurant Association, but given the number of its congregants (tens of thousands), the backgrounds of those gathered (industry purveyors, designers, suppliers), the time of the talk (early Sunday morning after the big party the night before), and the affiliation that the others have for one another, it’s hard to imagine who will show up and why they might care.

That said, it’s certainly pleasant enough walking around this busy, unfamiliar city.  Being downtown, within walking distance of Michigan Avenue, their Fifth Avenue, has, perhaps ironically, a limiting effect.  I see tourists, suburbanites, employees of fancy stores, and working class families showing off the city.

The deep dish pizza @ Gino’s East yesterday was delicious, but impossible to finish; the size was enough literally to feed four adults for dinner although it had been labeled an individual pie.

The torta from Xoco, one of Rick Bayless’s Mexican restaurants was delicious, but unremarkable.  The flavors were not distinctive, but that’s really not his fault.  The cuisine he has mastered isn’t one I enjoy much.

Overall, both restaurants served food that was so big it seemed to have been designed by death row inmates who wanted their last meal on earth to take so long to eat that it would delay their getting that fatal injection.

The food and drink are white flour bagel like objects, yoghurt, V-8, and coffee that can’t be drunk because it is bitter.

This is the way to Chicago.  I’m presenting a talk on “Back of the House,” tomorrow, Sunday morning, at 10 A.M., which is prime time if you’re in A.A., but given where I’m going, with revelers up all night before, means it’ll probably be me and a big empty room.

Which leaves today and tomorrow to explore a city I was once in about 35 years ago for 24 hours.

I have one restaurant reservation for tomorrow night–Blackbird–and the names of a few deep dish pizza joints.  The Cubs and White Sox are at the bottom of the stats so going to a game isn’t likely.

Fortunately, there is a gym at the hotel and I have Algren and Dreiser with me and there’s lots of writing to be done.

Bulletin: SON HOUSE is on the carousel of music!  ”Who’s that Riding?…He’s naked, and ain’t got no shame.”

Anyhow, that chicken parm from PARM on Mulberry yesterday?  OMG!  Imagine the train racing by the LI Sound in CT, the sandwich opened up, great tomato sauce, and…seriously?  Truly the best chicken parm I’ve ever had.  So good that, darn it, I won’t be buying another one elsewhere for quite some time.

Meanwhile, here in elsewhere, it’s toro, a couple of stalks of spring onion, broccoli rabe, and Japanese eggplant.  But wouldn’t it be much simpler just to buy some good food and bring it home and leave “creating” to matters more challenging and lasting?

But I am not complaining.  After all: Bill Evans is on now.

TMI, I know.

Anyhow, at the bar at Il Buco four guys were finishing a bottle of wine, probably not their first, and loudly talking nonsense punctuated with swears.  The bartender was annoyed and asked them to quiet down and they quarreled with her.  I offered meager support, not wanting stitches, and things quieted down, and she squeezed my hand.

They seated Shoko and me at a long, good table up front at which Chuck Close was also seated.  Shoko saw her former colleague Grant Achatz amble in.  He’s by far the best chef of his generation.  He was with Francis Lam, who I know, and then we ate.

Shaved foie gras on toasted brioche, in-house salumi, and fried artichokes followed by house made oricchiette with a bit of sausage.  Folks, I’ll be back.  We’re talking simple, delicious food served unpretentiously.

Let’s see how Lupa compares today.  Different food, I know: Roman versus northern style…

So I’m in NYC for a few days to give a talk @ the Institute for Culinary Education (ICE) with Paul Liebrandt on what it means to be a chef.  Few chefs have Paul’s depth of knowledge, sense of humor, or ability to articulate his views.  I interviewed him for about 90 minutes, largely unscripted, before a large group of students.

Prior, last night, after a long train ride made up of ingesting a huge chicken parm sub from Al’s–I won’t do that again for a variety of reasons–writing, and napping, I arrived in town to stay at my friend G’s apartment.  I have learned a great deal from her about the restaurant industry, and now as she ventures forth to open her first restaurant, look forward to learning even more.

Dinner at Carmellini’s new restaurant Lafayette: Goose foie, dorade, fries, egg & trotters & asparagus.  Not sure quite to make of it all, but loved the room and service and foie.

After the talk today: Roberta’s, of Brooklyn, set up shop with a bunch of other places, on 23rd & MAD for the month of May: Wow, is that good pizza or what?

Tonight: Il Buco.  Looking forward to it.

No more talk about food!

The good news is Hadley asparagus.  I bought my second bunch yesterday.  The first bunch, purchased about ten days earlier, was $5.00.  This one?  $4.50.  And of course the nutty flavor and the mysterious depth of these spears are pretty enchanting.

Meanwhile, it’s a road show over the next eight days: NYC, Chicago, dogs and ponies, and what have you.