Smithsonian.com

Happy Chocolate Mint Day, everyone. I know, you’re still recovering from Drink Wine Day and Crab-Stuffed Flounder Day yesterday. But don’t forget about National Margarita Day on Monday (or tomorrow, depending on which sources you consult). That is one I definitely plan to observe.

Pancakes, courtesy Flickr user Pink Sherbet

If you’re looking for excuses to indulge, the American food holiday calendar is chock-full of faux-lidays celebrating some specific item of food. What’s a faux-liday? Some people would consider Valentine’s Day and Secretary’s Day (which I believe is now called Administrative Assistant’s Day) bogus celebrations cooked up by greeting card companies and florists. Yet these faux-lidays have caught on with the public and become relatively legitimate. As I gaze at the pretty flowers still sitting on my coffee table from last week, I’m not going to complain.

Well, imagine you are a food producer (or widget maker, or disease prevention association), and you want to draw attention to your particular product or cause. How do you get the press (and, these days, blogs) to write about you? Declare a holiday! It’s not as hard as you might imagine. You don’t need an act of Congress (and who knows how long that would take, anyway). All you need to do is send out a press release. As the consulting firm Gropen Associates asserts on its Web site, “Journalists love news. Give a journalist anything that sounds new, and you’re guaranteed to get coverage.”

Hey, I take offense to that! Then again, they are not entirely out of line—I am sure I have been as guilty as the next food writer of, occasionally, focusing on something in a press release because it sounded novel. Admittedly, food blogging is not the same as reporting about war or the deficit. But we—journalists and readers—should at least be aware of the way marketing influences what appears in the media.

That said, I see no harm in a little food faux-liday fun. If I lived anywhere near an IHOP, I might partake in National Pancake Day on Tuesday. IHOP has taken the holiday marketing ploy to the next level, with the double-whammy of free pancakes and charitable donations. In fact, although IHOP has only been celebrating it since 2006, Pancake Day has some historical credibility. According to The Glutton’s Glossary by John Ayto, Shrove Tuesday (also known as Fat Tuesday or Mardi Gras—which was actually this week) has been celebrated in England with the eating of pancakes since at least Elizabethan times, as a way to use up the rich ingredients that would be prohibited during Lent.

That doesn’t make it news, but I’ll eat some pancakes anyway.

Chef José Andrés comes across as bright and lively; approachable, yet a bit dazzling—in short, the life of any party—and the same could be said for the Spanish wines he introduced me to last week.

Chef José Andrés. Photo by Pablo De Loy, courtesy ThinkFoodGroup.

“Spain is so funny, because historically, or at least when I grew up, people consider the best white to be a good red,” joked Andrés, who was born in the northern region of Asturias and was named today as a semifinalist for the prestigious James Beard Foundation Award for Outstanding Chef . “But I’m a big fan of whites. As a chef, I look for wines that tend to enlighten you; wake you up, almost like a sunny day.”

When I met Andrés at Jaleo, one of seven restaurants he owns in and around Washington, D.C., he was hosting a mid-day wine tasting to celebrate the launch of several Ribeiro wines in the U.S. market.

Never heard of Ribeiro, the “denomination of origin” (DO) wine region in Spain’s northwest corner? Don’t feel bad; neither had I. There’s scarce mention of it on most of my favorite wine blogs, although I spotted a few references to its neighbor, Ribeira Sacra. On a map I was shown, Ribeiro appears as a mere drop of red spilling across some 12 square miles at the base of Galicia, just north of Portugal.

But it’s a drop worth drinking.

Ribeiro wines at Jaleo, courtesy Deussen.

Whites are Ribeiro’s signature, representing over 80 percent of the region’s average annual production, which totals 16 million kilograms from 119 wineries or bodegas. Seven of those were represented at the Jaleo tasting, including Casal de Arman, Viña Mein, Sanclodio, Nairoa, Coto de Gomariz, Docampo and Viña Costeira. (I only sampled the first three, since it was the middle of a work day and I’m not very skilled at spitting.) Most retail for less than $20 a bottle—a bargain, if you can find them over here. A few U.S. importers of Ribeiro include P.R. Grisley, Eric Solomon and De Maison Selections, though that’s certainly not a comprehensive list.

I enjoyed everything I sampled, but my personal favorite was Sanclodio, owned by acclaimed Spanish filmmaker José Luis Cuerda. His 2008 Ribeiro Blanco, a blend of five native grapes (treixadura, godello, loureira, torrontés and albariño) is lovely. Its soft, peachy flavors flirt with sharper citrus and mineral notes, wrapped in a whiff of honeysuckle—exactly what my imagination expected from the man behind a film titled “Butterfly’s Tongue.”

Andrés said he especially admires Cuerda and other Ribeiro winemakers who have helped revive the cultivation of some of the region’s lesser-known native varietals, like godello.

“When it’s a grape that has been in the area for centuries, maybe it’s the one that’s able to interpret the story of the earth better than any other one,” he mused. “And I think protecting the integrity of our history is the only way to preserve who we are. A grape might not change humanity all of a sudden—but it means something.”

Sure, triple lutzes and double McTwist 1260s are challenging. But feeding more than 2,000 athletes—who eat up to 5,000 calories per day—from 85 nations is no easy task either.

At 2010 Winter Olympics, courtesy Flickr user Roland

Who even has the ability and resources to dish out 10 million calories daily? McDonald’s, of course, with a little help from Sodexo. Together, the global, mega-food-service providers are serving up McNuggets, pad Thai and other international fare at the Olympic villages in Vancouver and Whistler. The cafeterias also include a First Nations station, where diners can try Canadian dishes such as bannock (fry bread), venison chili and Pacific salmon.

Of course, you can’t please everyone. According to a Russian news organization, the captain of the Russian ice hockey team, Alexei Morozov, complained that the food at the Olympic Village was “tasteless, non-caloric. I tried spaghetti – it was impossibly [sic] to eat it. Me and other guys had to go to McDonalds and eat hamburgers.”

Others criticize the presence of McDonald’s, with its reputation for a menu high in fat and sodium and low on nutrients and whole grains, as a poor choice for feeding elite athletes. But, as nutrition consultant Nanci Guest told the Vancouver weekly the Georgia Straight, host cities have no choice over the fast food giant’s inclusion, since the company is a major sponsor of the games and has had a presence at the Olympics since the 1960s. In any case, when you’re eating thousands of calories a day, she said, “If you have an Egg McMuffin, it’s not going to break you.”

If creating monuments out of food was a sanctioned Olympic sport, the gold would surely go to the cranberry growers of Richmond, British Columbia, a Vancouver suburb, who turned 13 million cranberries into a 46,000-square-foot sculpture in the shape of the Olympic ring logo and a maple leaf. At least cranberries are healthy.

In other strange food-related Olympic news, U.S. skier Lindsey Vonn turned to “the power of fromage” to heal a leg injury that threatened to sideline her. Her trainer spread a soft Austrian cheese called topfen on her leg and, for whatever reason, it seems to be working. Is it the cold? The calcium? The placebo effect? Could camembert or cotija provide similar healing benefits? We need to know. Sadly, a major cheese-therapy study has yet to be undertaken by the science community.

The restaurant where I work has been collecting order forms for king cakes for the past few weeks. The other night, a woman who had recently moved to the States asked me about the cake and its importance to American culture. Unfortunately, all I could tell her at the time was that it is served during Mardi Gras and is very popular in New Orleans. But the cake’s history actually starts way back in Europe.

King Cake, courtesy Flickr user The Gifted Photographer

In the book “Mardi Gras, gumbo, and zydeco: readings in Louisiana culture,” Marcia Gaudet writes an essay about today’s king cake and the European Epiphany cake from which it evolved. The Feast of Epiphany is celebrated in many Western branches of the Christian faith on January 6, the proverbial “twelfth day of Christmas.” It commemorates the day when the three wise men—also called magi, or kings—arrived in Bethlehem bearing gifts for the baby Jesus. Epiphany is also the start of the traditional Mardi Gras season.

King cake is traditionally a yeast-based sweet bread baked in the shape of a crown, covered with white icing and gold, purple and green sprinkles—the official colors of the carnival. Although Mardi Gras itself can be traced back to the medieval ages, the colors weren’t chosen until 1872. Gold represents power; purple is for justice, and green represents faith.

Another key element is the inclusion of a trinket inside the cake. The trinket is often a tiny baby figurine that represents the baby Jesus, but it can also be a bean, an almond, a horseshoe or many other things. Whoever gets the token in their piece is considered the king—or queen—and becomes responsible for the next king cake. Of course, this custom varies from place to place and family to family.

Although it’s not clear when or why the cake tradition migrated from Epiphany to later in the Mardi Gras festival, Gaudet theorizes that it has to do with other Epiphany-related customs, such as gift-giving, being observed in conjunction with the Christmas holiday.

I was surprised to learn that unlike other tradition-centric holiday foods, the king cake is usually bought rather than made at home. (If you’re feeling ambitious, though, here’s a recipe.) Even Gaudet’s grandmother in New Orleans did not make her own—in an 1899 diary entry, she wrote that she and her aunt picked up a king cake at the store for King’s Day.

The cake has made the leap from New Orleans to other cities in the United States as the Mardi Gras celebration becomes more widespread. But I think Gaudet has the cake’s popularity figured out: “[King cake] also provides both Cajuns and ‘newcomers’ a means of participating in a food custom that is certainly easier to adapt to than eating boudin and crawfish.”

I can’t speak for boudin, which is a word used to describe various sausages used in Creole and Cajun cuisine, but I had a rather unfortunate experience with a crawfish during last year’s Mardi Gras and won’t be eating that again. A cake covered in frosting and sprinkles, however? No problem at all.

Jiaozi, or Taiwanese dumplings, courtesy of Flickr user *Noema*

On Sunday, when many Americans are breaking open heart-shaped boxes of chocolates, a good chunk of the world will be more focused on the Lunar New Year. Throughout China and other Asian countries, the turning of the lunar calendar—2010 is the Year of the Tiger—is one of the biggest celebrations of the year. The festivities go on for several weeks, and food is central to the observance.

I asked my friend Catherine Kai-Lin Shu, who lives in Taipei and writes a blog called Shu Flies, about new year dishes in Taiwan. She explains that a lot of the foods eaten for the Lunar New Year are homophones for “auspicious” words: “Fish is served because the Mandarin for fish sounds the same as the word for ‘more’ or ‘abundance.’ Niangao are flat sticky white noodles… ‘nian’ and ‘gao’ sound like the words for ‘year’ and ‘high,’ which combined symbolizes prosperity and luck.” Niangao is often called new year cake in English, and can be found in different shapes and flavors. According to legend (and this recipe), the glutinous rice treat is offered to the Kitchen God as a bribe, or “so his mouth would be so busy chewing the sticky cake that he won’t be able to report unfavorably on your family to the Jade Emperor.”

Sticky rice cakes, called banh chung and banh tet, are also eaten during the Vietnamese version of the holiday, Tet. These are stuffed with mung beans and pork, and are often wrapped in banana leaves.

In Taiwan, mandarin oranges are all over the place at the new year, Catherine says, “probably because they are in season (and maybe because their name, jinju, means golden orange, the gold being the lucky part). Noodle soup is popular and you are supposed to slurp the noodles whole instead of chomping on them because they symbolize long life. For dessert, we usually get tangyuan, or soup dumplings filled with sweet sesame paste. The latter is supposed to be lucky because ‘yuan’ sounds the same as the word for money.” Sounds like “yummy” to me.

The Lunar New Year is also a time for visiting the homes of elder relatives, Catherine says. “Snacks are set out, often in special multi-compartment dishes. These include dried melon seeds (lots and lots of dried melon seeds), mandarin oranges, beef jerky, dried plums and guava strips and candy. If I’m lucky, there’s chocolate. There are markets set up to sell these things. The most famous one in Taipei is Dihua St.”

Making dumplings called jiaozi is a family project. Catherine recalls that when she was growing up, her Taiwanese-American family would gather to prepare them. “You take the dumpling skins, put a spoonful of ground pork filling in it and then pinch the edge of the skin together in dainty little pleats. Then everyone eats the dumplings for dinner (after cooking them, of course).” If you’d like to try them yourself (perhaps with your Valentine), here’s a recipe with step-by-step photos.

Unlike New Year’s Eve in Western cultures, alcohol is not the focal point of Chinese New Year celebrations. However, if you’d like to toast the Year of the Tiger, try the Lucky Tiger Cocktail suggested by Chow.