The organization Gig Workers Collective is calling for a work stoppage on October 16
Gig Workers Collective, a grassroots organization fighting for better treatment of independent contractors, has announced planning for a walk off for Instacart shoppers on October 16. The group says shoppers will cease work until Instacart meets five demands, which include better pay and benefits. “We know that in order for us to see change, we need to hit Instacart where it hurts,” Willy Solis, a member of Gig Workers Collective, told Vice. “We’re organizing the walk-off because the company continues to ignore us. Our goal is to get Instacart to engage with us.”
In its announcement, Gig Workers Collective details the absurd conditions and pay structures currently experienced by Instacart shoppers. “In 2019, when [Instacart founder] Apoorva Mehta publicly apologized for supplementing pay with tips in response to our protests, the company lowered the base pay floor from $10 to $7,” the group says. It also claims that $7 is the base pay shoppers receive for batch orders and that, since the company removed item commission, pay doesn’t increase regardless of the order size. “If we shopped three orders at once, the base pay would be $7 for the lot. Instead of a shopper fulfilling three orders for a total of $30 base, we now do it for a $7 base. This is effectively a 76% cut to base pay, and is unacceptable.”
Currently, Instacart’s website does not explicitly state any minimum pay for shoppers. Instead it reads that shoppers’ pay “depends on their role type and other factors.” According to the company, there is a guaranteed minimum of $7 to $10 per full-service batch, which goes up depending on expected time and effort. Shoppers can also see how much each batch will pay out before they accept the order.
Gig Workers Collective also flags problems with Instacart’s rating system, which leaves shoppers susceptible to scams, or low ratings for things that are outside of their control. Ratings can affect which orders shoppers are eligible for, and how much they earn. Instacart has temporarily suspended the accounts of workers who cancel orders, even in cases where the customer wasn’t home at the designated time, the delivery address was wrong, or when minors were trying to purchase alcohol. “Instacart’s lacking fraud detection ability and policies make it very easy for customers to get free groceries by falsely marking items as missing/damaged, with the blame constantly falling on the shopper,” says Gig Workers Collective. “A single 4-star rating is enough to affect our pay for weeks.”
Gig Workers Collective is calling on Instacart to add occupational death benefits, on top of the shopper injury protection insurance that the company began offering in 2019, and to raise the minimum tip to 10 percent. Instacart’s tipping policy has come under fire before, like in 2019 when the company admitted to using tips to subsidize minimum payment guarantees. “These changes were designed to increase transparency while also keeping pace with a rapidly-evolving industry,” Mehta wrote in a blog post at the time. “In doing so, we’ve tried, in good faith, to balance those needs, but clearly we haven’t always gotten it right.”
Early in the pandemic, Gig Workers Collective planned a nationwide strike to demand hazard pay, an expanded extended pay policy, and cleaning supplies. Recently, the organization also asked customers to stop using Instacart, detailing how the company intentionally exploits workers for the benefit of its corporate employees, “all vying to become rich when Instacart finally goes public.” Using the hashtag #DeleteInstacart, the organization said that asking customers to avoid the service could be a significant sacrifice for many, “but we have spent the past five years fighting for better working conditions and firmly believe we have exhausted all less drastic options.”
In a statement, Instacart told Eater, “We take shopper feedback very seriously and remain dedicated to listening and learning from our community to improve the Instacart shopper experience. While historically the actions by this group have not resulted in any disruption or impact to our service, our relationship with all shoppers is incredibly important and we’re deeply committed to doing right by them.” The company also said, “These claims do not reflect the current shopper experience, and in some cases, the demands are for offerings that already exist on the platform.” For instance, the company specified the shopper injury protection insurance includes accidental death coverage. It also says things low ratings due to things out of the shopper’s control are automatically forgiven, though stories from shoppers imply that hasn’t always been the case, and that the ratings system is still unfair.
For people who are immunocompromised or are otherwise unable to do their own grocery shopping, services like Instacart are essential, especially when local grocers don’t already provide delivery. But for others, the service is mostly a convenience; grocery shopping is a chore, and paying someone a minor fee to do it for you is hugely tempting. During the pandemic, restaurant and grocery delivery boomed, as more people relied on “essential workers” like Instacart shoppers to do the risky work of running errands. At the time, Instacart actively fought against requirements to give shoppers hazard pay in places where it was required.
The pandemic has, perhaps inevitably, revealed the true costs of many conveniences that previously have been taken for granted. Getting nearly anything you want brought to your door as soon as you want it requires a lot of work (just not by you), and even when there is an added delivery fee, as there now is with Whole Foods, it rarely goes to the people doing your shopping. Deliveries have been kept artificially cheap because Instacart offers low wages and doesn’t classify its shoppers as employees, all while continuing to raise millions as a company. The convenience of delivery doesn’t have to rely on exploitation. And hopefully, as more workers demand what their dues, it won’t be able to.
Despite the potential for backlash, some of the industry’s most prominent players are protesting SB8
https://houston.eater.com/2021/9/30/22702218/houston-hospitality-workers-fighting-texas-abortion-ban-womens-march-ill-have-what-shes-having
For anyone who ever worked in a real restaurant, it may also smell familiar
Because the opening of the Ratatouille ride at Walt Disney World on October 1 is as good a reason as any, here now, a weeklong exploration of the 2007 rat-infested Pixar classic, Ratatouille.
A gig at Disney World must be a dream for set designers. Whether you’re stepping into Wendy, John, and Michael’s bedroom before boarding the Peter Pan ships, touring through a museum-level exhibit of yeti lore ahead of the Expedition Everest roller coaster, or browsing a market inside a dark temple within Epcot’s Mexico, Disney achieves a level of escapism that’s difficult to rival.
It’s a repellent to some — Disney’s brand of earnest, fanciful, corny, expensive make-believe. But for the fans, the Disneyphiles (hi there), those extra touches and details are the hook.
In that regard, there’s plenty to appreciate with the Ratatouille-themed expansion of the France Pavilion in Epcot’s World Showcase and the Remy’s Ratatouille Adventure ride, opening to the public on October 1. They’ve doubled the size of the pavilion, adding a new street with a waterfront evoking the Seine, a creperie inspired by classics in Brittany, a plaza with a rat-topped fountain (garnering lines for photos even before the attraction officially opened), and a full replica of the starring restaurant in Ratatouille, Gusteau’s, which holds the ride — what I suspect is the only kitchen brigade-inspired children’s theme park ride in the country.
Through the magic of landscape architecture, they’ve deftly hidden the sheer size of the building (massive if you peek at Google Maps) holding the ride behind a quaint storefront. Inside in line — because Disney lines are never just lines — riders weave through rooms inspired by the movie, including a studio apartment with animated paintings and a rooftop overlooking Gusteau’s. The movie’s accordion-heavy theme song pipes through the lines, where it’s forever twilight.
And once you’re done waiting you basically ... go inside the movie.
The ride consists of rat-shaped trackless cars that weave through different scenes and spaces as you and Remy are chased through the restaurant of the film. For anyone unfamiliar with the trackless ride experience, that alone is a bit of a thrill, as you’re not tethered to a visible path or linked to the cars nearby as you maneuver through various, high-energy scenarios.
Meanwhile, 3D imagery across various screens is sharp, and superfans will appreciate experiencing new material from the Ratatouille world, as Linguini ushers you into a hidey hole or Skinner’s finger gets caught in a mousetrap. There’s not much in the way of plot, but the 4D elements — heat when you’re under the broiler, misty water droplets from a mop, the pungent, actual smell of wafting cheese in the kitchen — combined with the set design of the pantry (giant onions! enormous sausages!) and a post-chase rat picnic make for a fully immersive and incredibly fun few minutes. My 5-year-old was beyond amazed. (And, according to him, “Only a little bit scared.”)
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The Walt Disney CompanyIn the end, it’s a 4 minute and 40 second ride that is a replica of one in Disneyland Paris and based on a movie that’s 14 years old in a park that’s every kid’s least-favorite.
But for me, a Ratatouille fan, Disney aficionado, a lover of pretty much any amusement or theme park ride that goes the extra mile — and perhaps more importantly, a former restaurant worker — I came out with a dumb smile on my face. So many of us fell in love with this movie because it was able to capture the danger, thrill, and passion involved in kitchen work. To escape into the cartoon version of that world so fully for a few moments — feeling the heat of the stove, smelling the fragrances of the ingredients, and experiencing that weird, extreme dissonance between the chaotic, clanging kitchen and the serene show of the dining room — was a real thrill, even for someone (especially for someone?) who worked inside an actual restaurant. Which, let’s face it, is also a ride that sometimes involves screaming and rats.
I immediately got back in line to ride it again.
On “The Next Thing You Eat,” the chef and his celebrity friends take a more urgent look at exactly where food is coming from, and where it’s headed
David Chang is pretty excited about the weird, robotic, fake-salmon future of food. Or at least that’s how it seems in the trailer for his upcoming show, The Next Thing You Eat. The six-episode docu-series, a collaboration with documentary filmmaker Morgan Neville (and produced by Vox Media Studios, part of Eater’s parent company) is set to premiere on Hulu on October 21. Judging by the trailer, the show will see the chef-restaurateur, cookbook author, and television host eating and talking and pondering lab-grown food and super-smart robots with an assortment of experts as well as celebrity guests.
Chang came on the scene in 2004 with the opening of Momofuku Noodle Bar in New York City, where he served ramen and decadent pork buns, and grew a culinary empire over the course of the following decade. His menus in those early years were very heavy on the meat, with Chang an evangelist for the many wonders of bacon and pork belly in all its forms. There was a ‘no substitution’ policy, so if a dish wasn’t listed as vegetarian and you didn’t eat meat, well, that was simply too bad. There was a time, after Chang got in a yelling match over the phone with a vegetarian would-be diner, that he removed all but one vegetarian item from the menu.
But in those meaty days, Chang was aware of the impact the food he cooked and served would have on the environment, even if he didn’t see it as his responsibility as a restaurant owner to swear off meat. “If you’re gonna do it,” he said of his meat-sourcing practices in a 2009 interview, “make sure it’s the closest thing to it being the best possible way.” In that same 2009 interview, Chang says that he’d be very sad in a world where everyone was vegetarian, but believes everyone should have a clear idea of where their food comes from.
Since then, Chang has integrated more non-meat onto his menus, and he’s partnered with Impossible Foods’ on several occasions to introduce their meat substitutes to diners. Now, with our planet burning and flooding and being consumed by drought, it looks like the chef’s latest foray into television will take a more urgent look at exactly where food is coming from, and where — as we step into the future — it’s headed.
So, what does our food future look like, if this trailer is any indication? “Food is the last experience that you can’t download,” says Chang, between clip after clip of robots doing food stuff like picking tomatoes and cooking chicken nuggets. In the trailer, Chang talks with experts about lab-grown meat, which has become a particular interest of the chef’s, and one he’s brought to his menus. There is also talk of, uh, lab grown dinosaur (meat?), and lab-grown salmon, if that feels a little more digestible. Chang’s past television work has explored the creative process of chefs, and the beauty of decadent, so-called “ugly” food. This show will strike a more serious and urgent note, asking how sushi can continue to exist as our oceans become desolate and toxic, and what will become of the beef burger.
It’s hard to feel super hopeful these days, but Chang is pretty jazzed to be eating cheesesteaks (cheese textured vegetable protein??) with Danny Trejo and laughing about something very funny with Anderson .Paak and Nyesha Arrington. “How do you not be inspired by the future,” Chang says at one point, immediately after joking that the sliver of optimism is probably because of “a concussion or something.” In each episode, this series takes a quick survey of an issue plaguing our food system, and the show is unlikely to offer as deep a look at any one issue as some documentaries that face factory farming or labor conditions head-on. It also won’t be right for those looking to avoid reality for 45 minutes — instead, the trailer promises viewers the chance to think about a few of the problems our world faces, while also maybe laughing and staring at some delicious food.
Disclosure: David Chang is producing shows for Hulu in partnership with Vox Media Studios, part of Eater’s parent company, Vox Media. No Eater staff member is involved in the production of those shows, and this does not impact coverage on Eater.
With an animated rat as my inspiration, I found culinary fireworks in a loaf of strawberry and comté cheese sourdough
Because the opening of the Ratatouille ride at Walt Disney World on October 1 is as good a reason as any, here now, a weeklong exploration of the 2007 rat-infested Pixar classic, Ratatouille.
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There are some movie scenes that just stay with you. Leo shouting “I’m the king of the world!” from the bow of a doomed ship. Angela tossing a lit cigarette on her husband’s clothes. The cue cards outside Kiera’s door on Christmas Eve. For me, it’s the cartoon rat eating a chunk of cheese and a strawberry at the same time.
“Each flavor was totally unique,” Remy, the anthropomorphic star of the 2007 Disney movie Ratatouille, says with his eyes closed in reverie. “But combine one flavor with another and something new was created.” Fireworks shoot off in bright colors, swirling around the rodent gourmand who is learning to hone his palate. Almost every time I cook a dish with a special combination of flavors, I think about Remy.
This summer, I became obsessed with seasonal bread baking. In making sourdough boules in the past, I had almost always stayed with the classics, occasionally branching out with a sesame or smoked paprika loaf. But when strawberries were in season in late May, I thought about Remy again, chomping on a chunk of French cheese and a fresh, juicy strawberry. Would Remy only stay the course? Would Remy only default to the classics? With an animated rat as my inspiration, I threw some strawberries and cheddar cheese into my next loaf.
The resulting bread was tangy and chewy, with crisp doily skirt edges from the melted cheese. The crust had a light-pink hue and slightly sweet and sour taste, and I could see chunks of strawberry popping out of the big bubbles in the crumb. It hadn’t been easy to make — the strawberries add a lot of moisture, so I had to tinker with the recipe — but the pyrotechnical combination of fruit and cheese made it worthwhile. (As did what it tasted like with a slab of butter.)
I spent the rest of the summer combining flavors in other loaves, like sour cherry and sharp cheddar; peach, rosemary, and goat cheese; pawpaw and coconut milk. These were just starting points; like Remy, I now get excited by the endless possibilities and combinations at my disposal. If you want to try the bread inspired by fireworks exploding around an animated rat, here’s where to begin.
Makes 1 loaf
For the starter:
25 grams whole wheat flour
25 grams all-purpose flour
50 grams tepid water
1/2 tablespoon sourdough starter
For the dough:
100 grams mature starter
300 grams room temperature water
300 grams bread flour
200 grams whole wheat flour
10 grams kosher salt
150 grams hard cheese (preferably Comté or Gruyere but cheddar works, too) chopped in ½-inch cubes
150 grams hulled strawberries, slivered, then roughly chopped
Make the starter:
Step 1: The night before you know you want to make bread, put the starter in a clean container and mix it thoroughly with the flours and water. Cover and leave out at room temperature for 6 to 8 hours, until bubbly.
Mix the dough:
Step 1: The next morning, put 100 grams of the mature starter in a large mixing bowl and add the water to it, mixing until the starter is broken up in the water. Add both kinds of flour and mix with your hands until the dough is shaggy and well-mixed. It will feel dry at this stage.
Step 2: Sprinkle the salt on top of the dough but don’t mix it in yet. Cover the dough with a tea towel and let it rest at room temperature with the salt sitting on top for 20 minutes.
Step 3: Using your hands, mix the salt thoroughly with the dough until all of it is absorbed. With the dough still in the bowl, make a deep, broad well in the dough and sprinkle 50 grams of the cheese and 50 grams of the strawberries on top. Bring one corner of the dough to the center over the strawberry and cheese pile, pressing the dough into the center. Repeat until you’ve made a dumpling of dough with the cheese and strawberries packed inside. Flip the dough over in the bowl so the seams are underneath. At this point the dough will feel extremely wet, with cheddar and strawberries popping out. Set the dough aside to rest.
Step 4: Repeat this process every 30 minutes in the mixing bowl, adding 50 grams of cheese and 50 grams of strawberries on two subsequent folds until you’ve run out of both. If the strawberries don’t feel like they’re absorbing into the dough, squeeze as you fold and keep repeating the dumpling process. There will be some stray strawberries — that’s okay.
Step 5: Fold the dough two to three more times after this, 30 minutes apart, until it feels smoother and like it has more structure. You’ll have folded the dough between 5 and 6 times.
Shape the dough:
Step 1: Moderately flour a clean work surface and gently tip your dough out of the bowl, seam side up. Pull the corners of the dough one at a time toward the center, pinching them together at the center.
Step 2: Use one hand to turn your dough over so the seam is underneath. Pull the dough in circles, dragging it a handful of times on your work surface until you feel the surface of the dough get a little tighter. Let it rest under a tea towel for 20 minutes.
Step 3: Once the dough has rested, lightly flour your work surface again. Using a dough scraper or your hands, flip the dough over and repeat the dumpling process again, pinching the dough corners into the center. Then flip the dough over again so the seam is underneath and pull the dough towards you as you move it around in a circular motion until the skin feels tight but does not rip. This will add more surface tension and help your bread rise evenly. A chunk or two of cheese may pop out from the surface of the bread — that’s okay.
Step 5: Line a large bowl with a tea towel and flip the tightened ball of dough into it so that it’s seam side is up. If it starts to spread apart at the seam, pinch it back together with damp hands.
Step 6: Cover the bowl with a floured tea towel and let the dough rise at room temperature for 2 to 3 hours. You can also put it in the fridge for a minimum of 8 hours and up to 36 hours.
Bake the bread:
Step 1: When you’re ready to bake, place a Dutch oven with the lid on into the oven. Preheat the oven to 500 degrees for 30 minutes. If you’ve refrigerated the dough, remove it and let it sit at room temperature until the oven is preheated.
Step 2: Carefully remove the pot from the oven and gently tip the dough into it so that the seam side is down. Using a razor blade, carefully and quickly score the loaf down the center about ¼-inch deep.
Step 3: Add 3 to 4 small ice cubes to the Dutch oven, replace the lid, and put it in the oven.
Step 4: Turn the heat down to 480 degrees and bake for 25 minutes. Then remove the lid and bake for another 15 to 20 minutes, depending on how dark you like your crust.
Step 5: Remove the bread from the oven and let it cool for an hour before eating.
After a year off for the pandemic, the tire company has returned with a vengeance but with many of the same predictable selections
The Michelin Guide, the vaunted star-bestowing restaurant list assembled by a tire company, completed its reveal of its 2021 guides across the United States in September. While many reviewers have foresworn star ratings at restaurants still reckoning with the effects of the pandemic, Michelin had no such compunctions this year, releasing the guides for the first time since 2019 on a dining world that remains undeniably changed.
How does that translate into the dining landscapes of major cities in the U.S.? True to form, the theme of the 2021 Michelin guide selections stuck to mostly Eurocentric and Japanese selections, leaving out major swaths of the U.S. culinary landscape. In Los Angeles, Washington, D.C., and New York, Michelin inspectors continued to overlook restaurants centered on some of the cities’ most celebrated cuisines — namely notable Mexican, Indian, Vietnamese, Central American, Middle Eastern, and Chinese establishments — in favor of cautious choices like (the recently panned) Eleven Madison Park.
Northern California continued its streak by once again claiming the most stars in the Golden State, while in the Midwest, Alinea remains Chicago’s sole three-star restaurant. And in San Diego, the city celebrated finally getting a slightly bigger slice of the California ratings with the addition of three new star-rated restaurants, one of which thoroughly campaigned for the recognition. It seems that no matter what year the guide is released, inspectors are still playing by the same book.
Alinea in Lincoln Park remains Chicago’s only three-starred restaurant, but three Chicago restaurants joined the tire guide’s list this year: Chef Curtis Duffy’s Ever, a hulking fine dining restaurant that opened in the middle of the pandemic, received two stars — one short of what Duffy’s previous restaurant, Grace, earned before closing in December 2017. Another two-star rating, for the tasting menu at Moody Tongue Brewing Co., reflects that Chicago’s beer scene is one of the tops in the country. Notably losing its star was Kikko, the omakase sushi counter helmed by chef Mariya Russell, who became the first Black woman to preside over a Michelin-starred kitchen after inspectors awarded it a star in 2019. Russell left Kikko last year, and star status apparently went along with her. — Ashok Selvam, Eater Chicago editor
After a one-year hiatus, following its multi-year abandonment of LA, the Michelin Guide returns to Los Angeles and once again mostly misses the mark, continuing to leave off the city’s meaningful Vietnamese, Korean, Chinese, and Mexican restaurants — to say nothing of LA’s genre-defining street food. Nearly as rude, no LA restaurant earned three stars this season — a shock for n/naka, the kaiseki specialist often cited as the hardest reservation to score anywhere in Southern California. Still, the one-man show Hayato in Downtown LA and the ethereal Phenakite from chef Minh Phan, perhaps the city’s biggest recent success story, both took well-deserved spots on the list. It’s also nice to see Mélisse continuing to hold two stars after decades of fine dining service, while Pasjoli’s star is a new recognition for what is perhaps the most talked-about French restaurant in the city. — Farley Elliot, Eater LA deputy editor
The first COVID-era Michelin Guide for New York aimed to be as non-controversial as possible, and it largely achieved that end by doing what the anonymous inspectors do best: changing as little as possible. There were no new entrants to the elite three-star category, a reality that has held true for nine straight years, no new entrants to the two-star category, and no dropped stars for venues that stayed open. Heck, even Eleven Madison Park, which was closed for most of the pandemic, and which reopened as a completely different vegan establishment (that hasn’t won many critical fans so far) got to keep its three-spot. The seven new one-star venues — Don Angie, Francie, Rezdora, Jua, Kochi, Tsukimi, and Vestry — all fell squarely within the Red Guide’s predictable comfort zone, which is to say they were all French, Italian, Korean, or Japanese-leaning venues.
Put differently: Michelin continues to believe the city’s thriving restaurants serving Indian, Chinese, modern Vietnamese, Thai, pizza, barbecue, or deli fare are better suited for the so-called Bib Gourmand consolation prize. Also: Two of the three Mexican spots with stars — while very good — are run by white guys not of Mexican descent. As the larger food world tries to change in myriad and complex ways, Michelin is here to stay the same, putting out a list of starred selections that remain a poor representation of where New Yorkers are eating right now. — Ryan Sutton, Eater New York chief critic
Michelin fanfare started in San Diego on September 15 when the company released a list of “new culinary gems” as a preview of its 2021 Michelin Guide California; among them were five San Diego restaurants: Animae, Callie, Fort Oak, Little Frenchie, and Menya Ultra. Local Bib Gourmand honorees were announced for San Diego on September 22, with the four-month-old Callie getting a nod along with Cesarina, Ciccia Osteria, Dija Mara, and Morning Glory. San Diego, which had earned just one Michelin star, for Addison, when the inaugural guide was released in 2019, fared better this year. On September 28, Michelin announced its latest class of star-earners, upgrading Addison to two stars and bestowing one star on Carlsbad’s Jeune et Jolie as well as Soichi Sushi and Sushi Tadokoro, two standout local sushi spots that were previously recognized by Michelin as “new discoveries” in 2020. — Candice Woo, Eater San Diego editor
Northern California continues to claim the highest concentration of stars in the country, with a total of 54 restaurants glittering across the Bay Area — including a half-dozen three-star restaurants. In all, it picked up two new two-star restaurants — including Birdsong, the SF spot known for its pandemic-era fried chicken sandwich served with the claw intact — and nine new one-star restaurants, ranging from luxe omakase counter the Shota to Redwood City’s Sushi Shin. But the guide is far from flawless: It’s puzzling that Octavia, which reopened in late June after being shuttered for most of the pandemic, lost its star, while other spots including Bar Crenn and Kin Khao, both of which have yet to reopen, retained their statuses. Bacchus Management Group’s sweep (three of its SF restaurants have earned their way into the list of starred restaurants) is another eyebrow-raising inclusion, particularly when held up against the omission of Eight Tables, George Chen’s fine dining Chinatown celebration of Cantonese cuisine. — Lauren Saria, Eater SF editor
In an affluent city where maitre d’s keep tabs on members of Congress, diplomats, and defense contractors, a Michelin star carries serious weight. But Michelin has once again reinforced the criticism that it cares most about Eurocentric cooking and ultra-exclusive sushi, excluding Levantine stunner Albi, modernist Latin Seven Reasons, and modern Vietnamese Moon Rabbit.
In all, the number of starred restaurants grew to 23. A notable win is for Jônt, which picked up two stars for its focus on Continental luxury, Asian-influenced preservation techniques, and 16-course progressive menus that start at $305 per person — all seemingly conceived with Michelin in mind. El Cielo, headed up by Medellín-born chef Juan Manuel Barrientos, now bills itself as the first Colombian restaurant in history to hold a Michelin star; in D.C. at least, it’s the only one on the list that asks customers to wash their hands with molten chocolate. The Inn at Little Washington remains the only three-star awardee in the D.C. guide, but considering its rural Virginia location, the famed venue for chef Patrick O’Connell’s haute American cuisine is a true destination restaurant. — Gabe Hiatt, Eater DC editor
And how do you cauterize it humanely?
It’s no surprise that we have a weird thing for barrels here at Eater. We’ve visited the Adirondack Barrel Cooperage in Ramsen, NY, and traveled to Loretto, KY to witness the Maker’s Mark factory in action. Now, on this week’s Gastropod, hosts Cynthia Graber and Nicola Twilley are leading us even deeper into the fire pot to learn more about barrels’ importance. Can using a different kind of wood to make barrels open up a whole new world of whiskey and wine flavors — and restore a vanishing ecosystem?
But before we let Cynthia and Nicola get into that, let’s get the important question out of the way: What exactly is a bunghole? Those who binged MTV in the ‘90s might know it from Beavis and Butt-Head and believe it or not, “bunghole” has actually been a slang term for an anus since the 1600s. People from New England are possibly familiar with Bunghole Liquors, a booze shop with the subtle slogan “WE’RE NOT #1 BUTT WE’RE RIGHT UP THERE” in Peabody and Salem, MA.
But the word “bunghole” — are you tired of me saying it yet? BUNGHOLE, BUNGHOLE, BUNGHOLE — actually refers to the hole drilled into the side of the barrel, which is then sealed with a cork so you can eventually get your whisky or wine out. The hole is cauterized (ouch) to smooth and harden the wood, making it water tight. So you see, painful as it sounds, it’s all for the good of the barrel and its contents.
Free grocery delivery has served to cloak the human cost of labor, leading consumers to expect a free service that was never really free
If going to the grocery store and having groceries delivered costs pretty much the same amount of money, why would anyone go to the grocery store ever again? What was always desirable service became even more in demand during the pandemic, when so many people were trying to avoid packed aisles and endless lines. While the pandemic is very much not over, the days of free grocery delivery are — at least from Whole Foods: On October 25, Amazon will institute a $9.95 delivery surcharge on Whole Foods Market deliveries nationwide.
With the increased demand for grocery delivery during the pandemic, Whole Foods deliveries more than tripled between 2019 and 2020, according to the Washington Post. While the company had hoped this spike would boost profits, it drove costs instead. Add to that the unpredictable yo-yoing prices and sporadic availability of products due to faltering supply chains, and delivery has become quite expensive for Amazon and Whole Foods.
In the past, Amazon was willing to eat costs in one of its departments if it thought it could make up the losses in another. But “growth of delivery drives operating costs that we do not want to shift to product prices,” Whole Foods spokeswoman Stephanie Ferragut wrote in an emailed statement to the Post. In an email to MarketWatch, an Amazon spokesperson wrote that “Whole Foods Market is not increasing prices on products. We have consistent pricing on everyday priced products in store and online.”
The thing is, grocery delivery never should have been free in the first place. Or at least, not if the outcome is consumers thinking they have a right to groceries dropped on their doorstep, while workers during the pandemic face incredible pressure to meet demand, and risk their lives in return for paltry health protections and low wages. Labor costs money, and services like free delivery might be appealing, but they gloss over the working conditions for the shoppers and drivers who make it possible to have a bag of eggs and produce dropped off within hours (or as some now promise, less) of placing an order.
While this new delivery fee might be an important reminder that “free” delivery has always had a human cost, the actual humans doing the delivering aren’t receiving an increase in wages. Jeff Bezos, whose net worth rose by more than $70 billion in 2020 alone as a result of the increased reliance on delivery, will still be making the same income. Not great! But, crucially, free delivery has long been a cudgel Amazon has wielded in its attempts to become a monopoly in all areas where it sells goods — In the title of one of his newsletters exploring monopolies, the writer Matt Stoller calls Amazon Prime “an economy-distorting lie.” He describes the way Amazon has distorted and controlled prices across various industries, writing that “The goal was to get people used to buying from Amazon, knowing they wouldn’t have to worry about shipping charges. Once Amazon had control of a large chunk of online retail customers, it could then begin dictating terms of sellers who needed to reach them… Prime is just a huge public relations stunt, a giant lie by Amazon to mask the high prices it forces across the economy. If people figure this out, it’s a devastating blow to Amazon’s credibility”
There’s nothing inherently wrong with delivery. It is convenient, and helps make life sustainable for those who can’t get to the store for any number of reasons. But the idea of free delivery has only served to cloak the human cost of such a service, and during the pandemic, has put the associated risks of grocery shopping on a low-paid workers plate.
Though the fee will not change the day to day life of workers — Amazon does not have the best interests of its workers at heart, and this latest price increase, without addressing worker conditions, only affirms that — maybe it will push consumers to internalize the fact that when it comes to other people’s labor, nothing is (or should be) free. With that in mind, we can make better choices about where we spend our money. Maybe, with free grocery delivery a thing of the past, that starts with cancelling our Prime subscriptions.
An interview with creators Rob Truglia and Jeff Petriello about creating a tarot deck inspired by the aura of pasta.
Rob Truglia says I have the aura of cavatappi. He’s deduced this by looking through my Instagram, and by asking me a few quick questions about my life and habits. My curly hair determined the shape, but my image of myself as a help and support to those I love confirms that I’m a pasta with some heft to it, that can stand up to looser sauces and big flavors. Truglia began being able to see people as their corresponding pastas while on a trip to Italy. He has diagnosed himself as gemelli (“a short, twisted pasta, and that’s all you really need to know”), and his business partner Jeff Petriello as rigatoni (“they’re just loud, amazing, jovial; everyone loves rigatoni”). It is through his and Petriello’s shared understanding of the spiritual nature of pasta, and the ways a simple image of ziti can evoke intense emotions, that has led to their Pasta Tarot.
The Pasta Tarot, currently raising funds on Kickstarter, is a new interpretation of the classic Rider-Waite-Smith deck. Illustrated by Lindsay Mound, it translates the four suits (swords, wands, cups and pentacles) into four pasta shapes (long pasta, short pasta, stuffed pasta and minuta). The Magician becomes a Nonna in her kitchen. The Tower is the leaning Tower of Pisa. The Wheel of Fortune, a lazy suzan full of bowls of pasta-bilities.
But the Pasta Tarot isn’t just a visual gag that replaces spiritual imagery with noodles. “We designed each card to reference our shared queer Italian-American experience,” Truglia and Petriello explain on their Kickstarter. Through collaborating with Mound on the art and meaning of each card, Truglia and Petriello created a deck that challenges mainstream assumptions about Italian-American culture, whether it’s gender roles or the Roman Catholic church.
I spoke with Truglia and Petriello about the practice of tarot, the importance of pasta, and what it means to bring a modern, queer sensibility to something so steeped in tradition. This interview has been lightly edited for clarity.
Eater: What was your relationship with tarot before starting this project?
Jeff Petriello: Currently I’m the producer at Glow Up Games, and I actually teach card and board game design at NYU Game Center. But my relationship to the tarot started while I was in high school. I remember getting a Celtic-themed tarot deck from Barnes & Noble, mostly because I fancied myself a witch. I started reading for my family when we would go down to Cape May for the summers on the beach. It was something that I kind of held onto as just a hobby. And then it wasn’t until I started working with animators a little later in my career where it really became a much bigger part of my life. I used it because I was finding myself having trouble articulating notes basically, and used it to practice that cycle of seeing an image, feeling a feeling, and then being able to articulate that feeling.
Tarot is a bit of a spiritual practice for sure, but it’s way more practical, honestly. Then when I met Rob, and saw him doing the pasta-aura readings on Instagram, I was just blown away by his instinctual knowledge of the spiritual properties of pasta shapes. Tarot at that point had become my go-to sort of metaphysical brainwork for sort of anything, and any time I would run into something like that I would be like well how could tarot deal with this? And I was like, we could really combine these two spheres of knowledge into something new, and different, and unique, and also that speaks to our Italian-American backgrounds.
Rob Truglia: I’m from Connecticut, from a big Italian family with all my cousins around. But around two years ago I took a trip to Italy with my friend and started seeing people as what type of pasta shape they were while we were on this trip. There was this hot, hunky Italian man on the beach and I was like, “He is clearly a gnocchi, it just makes so much sense.” So when I came back from that trip I turned it into this thing that I would do for all of my friends on my Instagram story, and I developed this encyclopedic knowledge of pasta shapes and I sort of apply that to people and their personalities, and maybe what they look like.
The Pasta Tarot has been this really wonderful labor of creativity and connecting our shared experience as queer Italian-Americans into this deck, and going through each card in the tarot and thinking what pasta shape does this represent. I also do drag, and my drag persona is very rooted in Italian-American camp glamor. I’ve done spaghetti and meatball looks, and shrimp cocktail looks. So food is very connected to everything I do.
Tell me a little bit more about adapting this very iconic imagery from the Rider-Waite-Smith deck with pasta in mind, because some of the art is fairly faithful and some of it gets really playful. How did you go about assigning pastas to the suits?
Jeff: For us, pasta is almost a universally loved dish, and it was important for us to match that up with something as universal as possible. We just love how the Rider-Waite-Smith deck has been so lively and so recognizable, and it’s such an accessible entry point for people who might not be familiar with tarot or tarot reading. We want you to pick up this deck and hopefully have it be an entrée into your own journey with tarot.
The design process was basically like a tri-force if you will. It was me breaking down what I felt were the essential elements of each card, both energetically and visually. Rob and I came up with what the suits were going to be, then we listed out all of the shapes within those categories, and we would go through that list with this energy and this essential visual information that we knew we wanted to preserve, and cross-referenced those things to pair them up as best we could with the pasta that communicated that energy.
Once we did that, we then had a discussion about what’s our spin on it? We pulled all of these references from culture and our own lives, and our own families, and we threw them in as visual references and wrote a description of how we think the card illustration should look. And then Lindsay [Mound] would pick up that information and make a draft. It was basically all three of those parts coming in at different stages, using the Rider-Waite as DNA to grow into something new.
Rob: Take the Nine of Swords which represents nightmares, and fear, and foreboding. We were like, “It needs to be squid ink pasta.” Or, the Eight of Swords is about being blindfolded and trapped in a situation, stifled. We sort of put a spin on it like, let’s actually put capellini there, which is the thinnest of all the pastas, but have it look like it’s like death by a thousand cuts — what’s holding me back is the sum of all these decisions.
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Lindsay Mound/Pasta Tarot
Or on a more positive note, for the Ace of Cups, we asked ourselves what ionic stuffed pasta represents this joyful new cycle and openness to creativity? Ravioli, it has to be a ravioli, because when you break open a ravioli all that cheesy goodness flows out and that’s what that card’s about.
In the process of creating these images, did you learn something new about any of the cards and what it meant or represented?
Rob: Well, I think one of my favorite cards in the deck is the Ten of Minuta, which is a card that is a familial celebration across generations. We decided we need this to be like our family at the beach. We’ve never been to the beach with our families together, but it sounds like we have similar experiences, so it’s just like every type of person — there’s a dog, everyone’s passing food. It’s so core to our being.
I think also the Hanged Man is a card that I really love, and it was actually inspired by Lindsay’s thought process. But just something so simple and beautiful in this uncomfortable position is the meaning of that card, and we’re like, “Okay, let’s throw some spaghetti at the wall but it still looks gorgeous.” I think that was an interesting one that we sort of were able to get our minds around.
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Lindsay Mound/Pasta Tarot
Jeff: The Three of Minuta is also one that really changed for me. It’s an analog for the Three of Pentacles, which normally is a card about apprenticeship and showing your work, traditionally depicted with two patrons of the arts looking at what this mason has done in their church. We were inspired by the pasta window in front of Misi in Williamsburg. It has a little kid pressed up against the glass, looking in on a younger woman rolling some pasta, and there’s an older chef woman looking over her shoulder. The way that we depicted it made me pick up more on the passing of tradition as a part of the Three of Pentacles. And also the fact that we have the third onlooker on that card; it’s a reminder that even when you’re learning something, you also are unwittingly setting an example for the people who haven’t had the chance to start their apprenticeship. Now when I read another deck and I see that Three of Coins come up, those elements come to mind. What tradition are you adhering to when you’re working, and how is that work going to be looked at by others after you?
Rob: Also the Seven of Swords, which is typically a card about questioning whether you represent the trickster or the person that’s being tricked. We thought, what if we made it this dog who stole a bowl of bucatini from the table, making you have empathy towards this being that has committed this bad act. Because the dog just needed bucatini!
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Lindsay Mound/Pasta Tarot
You explicitly center queerness in this project, and you talk about what it means to be a queer Italian-American. What does it mean for you to center queerness within an Italian-American identity, and specifically within Italian-American food culture?
Jeff: I grew up in northern New Jersey, basically in an episode of The Jersey Shore. There’s so much of that that was amazing and that I had a lot of fun with, and was really culturally engaging. But as a queer person, one fact of the matter was that there were no other queer people on that side of my family. So I felt completely ostracized from that. There’s so much modern Italian-American culture that’s steeped in toxic masculinity, so as I grew as a queer person, I just got further and further away. I left the Roman Catholic church after being an altar boy for seven years. I was like, “This is something that I visit now when I go back, but it’s not mine.”
And I think through this project, working with Rob, I have realized that first of all, I am not alone, which was something that I did feel. And also, I actually am Italian-American. In a way it’s empowered me. This summer I went to Cape May, which is the lighthouse in our Ten of Minuta. That’s where I grew up going with my big Italian family during the summer. We went back this year and it was the first summer that I walked out in my Speedo, giving no fucks. And I really think that working through The Pasta Tarot helped me have the confidence to do something like that, because queer Italian-Americans exist. We are not a visible part of the culture that we grew up in, so increasing that visibility became a really important part of the project.
Rob: I feel very lucky in that my family has always accepted me. I’ve been very involved in queer activism and trying to stand up for the rights of the queer people that don’t have them. But if we could basically design a queer Italian utopia, to me that is this deck. We challenge the gender binaries in a way that presents a spectrum of gender representation. And we redid traditional male roles in the cards as female roles. I think a lot of the queer Italian identity is referential to really high femme, sex goddess, Sophia Loren-style essences. And that I think comes across in a lot of our deck. I think it presents such a range of body types and genders and how they speak to each other in a way that just feels like status quo. It’s not even questioned, and it feels accepted, and everyone is in a community together.
Jeff: I think one of the emblematic cards of the subversion that we’re going for is The Pope. The Hierophant used to be called The Pope before a lot of the occultists rehashed the tarot, so we actually went back to that. So how do we have a card about an institution that put down homosexuality, which is a core tenant of our value system, in this deck without it being contradictory?
We have the Pope at a baptism, and it’s clear that the godparents are queer. So you have this godfather who has long hair, a John Waters mustache, and is wearing a gold-pleated bralette over his dress shirt, holding his nephew or his niece as the Pope takes a shell pasta shaped container and pours the baptism water over their head. So it was like okay, that’s the situation we were in. You still have to show those contradictory things are what our lives have been, so let’s just depict it.
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Lindsay Mound/Pasta TarotIs there anything that you hope people have in mind when they’re using this deck?
Rob: I would hope that people see the pasta component as an entry point into all the beauty that comes in being part of tarot, and not being closed off to this spiritual stuff that maybe scares some people. They’re like, “I don’t believe in psychic readings.” But that’s not what this is, it’s storytelling through a design system. So I hope that using pasta, which is so universally loved, will help bring in more people to the practice of tarot and help people better connect. Because by giving readings, it has allowed me to connect to people on an emotional level more easily than I was able to in the past.
Jeff: I think that’s the same thing that food does. Food is present in both the darkest moments of our lives and the happiest moments. And so to bring those two things together in a way that comes across as both lighthearted and profound as we mean it, I hope that that is communicated.
In which an actual rat behaviorist reminds us repeatedly that “Ratatouille” was not a documentary
Because the opening of the Ratatouille ride at Walt Disney World on October 1 is as good a reason as any, here now, a weeklong exploration of the 2007 rat-infested Pixar classic, Ratatouille.
When Walt Disney World officially enters its midlife crisis phase with a blowout 50th anniversary party this October, the parks will celebrate with fireworks, nighttime entertainment, and — what else? — giant rats. Yes, the anthropomorphized rodents made popular in Pixar’s 2007 film Ratatouille will be scurrying their way toward renewed relevance when their all-new themed ride debuts October 1 in the France-themed mini-land within Epcot.
In the movie, Remy, a rat who dreams of becoming a chef, pairs up with Linguini, a bumbling nepotism hire who recently landed a gig at Gusteau’s, a once-heralded French restaurant that has since slipped in the standings. Through some unconventional teamwork, Remy leads Linguini to create the most mouthwatering dishes out of Gusteau’s kitchen in years, all while trying their best to not be discovered.
Beloved for its unusual storyline, quaint absurdity, and winks at the real-life food world of the early 2000s, Ratatouille is the culinary crossover event that, at the time, no one could have expected. It’s also grounded in some truth. Pixar’s animators studied French cuisine and famously worked with consulting chef Thomas Keller at his Yountville eatery, the French Laundry; even the signature dish Remy the rat creates — an elevated ratatouille, plated in spirals — is Keller’s Confit Byladi. (Before it shuttered, a Ratatouille poster hung inside the kitchen at Bouchon Beverly Hills.)
But as Gusteau’s ethos — Anyone can cook! — reverberates throughout the entirety of the film I found myself, just a few days from boarding one of the new ride’s gleeful rodent vehicles, wondering if that applies to actual, real-life vermin. Yeah yeah, it’s an animated movie, but as Ratatouille cements its spot in American culture vis a vis a permanent attraction at the world’s most iconic theme park, it begs the question: If anyone can cook, could a rat?
Some things we can immediately say for sure: Rats are nocturnal — 86 brunch service — and [checks notes] cannot read or write, which would make recipes tricky. But to find out if rats could potentially handle other aspects of running a restaurant I spoke with Kelly Lambert, professor of behavioral neuroscience at the University of Richmond, who recently garnered widespread attention for teaching rats to drive. As a leading scientist in the field and resident rat expert, Lambert was quick to confirm that rats cannot run a restaurant, but I pressed on.
Rats may not be able to cook a beef bourguignon or chateaubriand as easily as humans, but could they at least be trained to sense when meat is done cooking? Turns out ... maybe yes. “Smell is their dominant sensory system,” explains Lambert. “If there was some smell that was associated with when a steak was medium-well, you could train them to press a bar. They could do that better than we could, as far as smell detection of meat doneness.”
The final scenes of the film see Remy’s rat brigade working together to lift a skillet onto a burner, cleanly plate dishes, and tip over a box of mushrooms to fall into a pot. Lambert explained there’s not a lot of evidence that rats are cooperative in work, meaning sous chefs and prep stations are all kaput, but with a little imagination and the right motivation, there are plenty of tasks — like shaking salt into a pot of soup — that might be possible.
“Can rats be trained to do some pretty impressive things? Yes,” says Lambert, with a process called “chaining” that breaks down a larger behavior into multiple smaller behaviors. Let’s say you wanted a rat to complete a set of tasks — walk across a plank, climb up to a high shelf, find a pot, crawl inside, and drop in a sprig of thyme. You’d start with the last task, having them press a button to get a reward at its end, before slowly adding more steps in, one by one, requiring more effort for that same reward, Lambert explains. Difficulty would come by way of both tasks and rewards being food-based, but on a very small scale, it can be done. “They may not know the end goal that they’re trying to season something... but they know ‘If I pick this up and drag this here’ or ‘If I press this lever, I will get a reward.’ We can train them to do that,” she says.
One obstacle that’s trickier to overcome? Which would likely have jolted cartoon critic Anton Ego right back from his transportive mid-bite flashback? Poop. “You would never want a rat in the kitchen because they poop all the time.” Lambert laughs.
Yes, yes, but one other thing to note. In the film, Colette, the lone female chef at Gusteau’s, expounded upon the bias against women in the industry. According to Lambert’s research, however, female rats (mothers, particularly) have shown more cognitive flexibility in experiments at the Lambert Behavioral Neuroscience Laboratory, making them (hypothetically) better equipped to handle the job than even Remy himself. In other words, Colette is overdue for a promotion.
So, no, rodents cannot run a well-regarded French restaurant, cook the perfect omelet, or plate a half-dozen escargot, but give them the right task, the right training, and a little bit of motivation, and well? It seems anyone can cook.
Carlye Wisel is a theme park journalist and expert who reports about things like how Butterbeer was invented and Disney’s secret food lab on her podcast, Very Amusing With Carlye Wisel.
Where to find avocado tzatziki, fried seafood in a cone, mutton burgers, and octopus candied with tsipouro in the Greek capital
Every year, tourists travel to the Greek capital to hike up the Acropolis, browse countless museums, and seek out tans at nearby beaches. They also come for Greek cuisine, which builds many meals from three key ingredients: olive oil, wheat, and wine. Add in lots of vegetables, fruits, fish, and meat, and a philhellene could want nothing more.
But the Athenian food scene goes well beyond olives and bread. The capital has also long served as a gateway for the wider MENA (Middle East and North Africa) region. Athens has welcomed immigrants from Egypt, Turkey, Lebanon, and Syria, who combine their foodways with Greek ingredients and customs in fine dining to street food. In recent years, the city’s chefs have developed new genres of gourmet Greek cuisine, with influences from across the eastern Mediterranean and with help from an up-and-coming generation of cooks who cut their teeth in restaurants around the world. Even TV shows like MasterChef Greece have had a noticeable impact, driving interest in new dining options and highlighting industry talent.
Before COVID-19, the food scene in Athens (and all over Greece, really) was thriving. The country has generally managed the pandemic well, especially during the first wave, but COVID dampened that growth. The government moved quickly to shut down cities, including restaurants, and close borders. Some venues pivoted to takeaway; many closed permanently. But in May, after months with their doors closed, restaurants all over Greece reopened, first for outdoor dining, then indoor. The country quickly advertised itself as a safe vacation destination, and the tourism industry made a significant comeback. The capital even attracted some attention among visitors who normally head straight for the islands.
Exciting, classic, and Classical, the best Athens restaurants are here to serve you olives, bread, wine, and so much more.
Prices per person, excluding alcohol
$ = Less than 10 euros (less than $12 USD)
$$ = 11 - 29 euros ($13 to $34 USD)
$$$ = 30 - 49 euros ($35 to $58 USD)
$$$$ = More than 50 euros (more than $59 USD)
Note: The inclusion of restaurants offering dine-in service should not be taken as an endorsement for dining inside. Studies indicate a lower exposure risk to COVID-19 outdoors, but the level of risk is contingent on social distancing and other safety guidelines. Check with each restaurant for up-to-date information on dining offerings. For updated information on coronavirus cases in Greece, please visit the National Public Health Organization.
Demetrios Ioannou is an independent photojournalist, writer, and documentary photographer based in Athens, Greece.
Chef Chloe Grigri’s savory chickpea pancake evokes the winding streets of Nice
Socca, pronounced soh-kuh, is a menu staple at the Good King Tavern, our cozy French bistro in Philadelphia’s Bella Vista neighborhood. A savory pancake made from chickpea flour, socca is a traditional Niçoise street food. Just as you’ll find crêpes in Paris, you’ll find socca served at Nice’s buzzing street stands, often alongside other local delicacies like pissaladière and barbajuans. Like crepes, socca is made by cooking batter in a pan: in this case, chickpea batter is ladled onto a massive, piping hot copper pan that is then thrown into a wood-fired oven. Once its edges are browned and its center has bubbled and firmed, the socca is scraped from the pan without form or fashion. Salty, crispy, creamy shards of it are traditionally served wrapped up in a paper cone; at the Good King, we serve it sliced on a wooden board with accoutrements inspired by old family recipes. One of my favorites is ratatouille.
To me, ratatouille tastes like home: a pique-nique-style lunch on the terrace as we find pause and peace from the hot Provençal sun, passing a plate of pâté, tearing a hunk of fresh baguette, pouring a canon of wine. While seemingly simple, the process of making ratatouille is, like most French food, a labor of love (and a whole lot of olive oil). It acknowledges and respects the integrity of each singular vegetable before marrying them all in a lush Mediterranean mélange. Don’t be afraid to make it ahead of time — we French believe the longer the vegetables marinate, the more their flavors intensify, not unlike a decanted bottle of Nicolas Joly chenin dancing with oxygen across time.
At the restaurant, our approach to serving socca could be described as casual-chic: it’s street food-meets-pique-nique. Together, the socca and the ratatouille have the power to take you there, to a place somewhere between the winding streets of Nice and a table in a Provençal family home.
Serves 6-8
For the ratatouille:
1 medium eggplant, cut into ½ to 1-inch chunks
2 teaspoons salt, plus more for seasoning
7 tablespoons olive oil, divided
3 medium tomatoes, cored and chopped
2 medium onions, chopped
6-8 garlic cloves, finely chopped
3 small-medium zucchini, cut into ½ to 1-inch chunks
2 teaspoons herbs de Provence
Freshly ground black pepper
Fresh basil, for garnish (optional)
For the socca:
1 cup (115 g) chickpea flour
¾ teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon fresh ground black pepper
2 ½ tablespoons olive oil, plus about 2 tablespoons more for greasing the pan
1 cup plus 2 tablespoons (273 g) water
First, make the ratatouille:
Step 1: In a medium bowl, toss the eggplant with 2 teaspoons salt. Set aside for 15 minutes, then use a paper towel to wipe off the salt, pressing lightly to absorb excess moisture.
Step 2: While the eggplant sits, heat 3 tablespoons of olive oil in a large saute pan over medium heat. Add the tomatoes, onions, and garlic and cook until the tomatoes have broken down and the onions are tender, 15 minutes. As the vegetables simmer, season them with salt to taste. Once they’re cooked, transfer them to a Dutch oven.
Step 3: Using the same sate pan, heat 2 tablespoons of olive oil over medium heat. When the oil is shimmering, add the zucchini and a pinch of salt. Reduce the heat to medium-low and cook until the zucchini is softened but not mushy, 8 minutes. Transfer to the Dutch oven. Add another 2 tablespoons of olive oil to the saute pan. Once it’s shimmering, add the eggplant and saute over medium-high heat, stirring frequently until golden brown, 4 minutes. (If needed, you can add a bit more oil to prevent sticking.) Transfer the eggplant to the Dutch oven with the other vegetables.
Step 4: Add the herbs de Provence, a couple more pinches of salt, and a few twists of freshly ground pepper to the vegetables and stir to combine. Cover and simmer over low heat, stirring occasionally, until the vegetables are very soft and the flavors have melded, 1 to 1 1/2 hours, depending on how soft you prefer your vegetables. Once they’re cooked, add more salt and pepper to taste. If you’d like, you can garnish the finished ratatouille with fresh basil. Voilà.
Next, make the socca:
Step 1: Preheat the oven to 500 degrees, or preheat the broiler with an oven rack 4 inches below the element.
Step 2: Put the chickpea flour, salt, and pepper in a medium bowl and whisk to combine. Gradually whisk in the water, and then the 2 ½ tablespoons olive oil, whisking until thoroughly combined. Alternatively, you can blend the batter in a blender.
Step 3: Coat a 12-inch oven-safe non-stick pan with the remaining 2 tablespoons of olive oil and place over high heat. When the olive oil begins to shimmer, pour the batter into the pan. Immediately lower the heat to medium-low and cook through until the batter is dry and firm when touched, about 5 minutes. Transfer the pan to the oven and continue to cook until the top starts looking browned and crispy, 4-5 minutes. Remove the socca from the oven and cut it into wedges. Enjoy it all by itself or with your choice of seasonal salad or stewed deliciousness (ahem, ratatouille).
Philadelphia-based Chloé Grigri is the co-owner and wine director of the Good King Tavern and the James Beard-nominated wine bar Le Caveau.
Dina Ávila is a photographer in Portland, Oregon.
Recipe tested by Ivy Manning
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