NRA Show

The NRA (National Restaurant Association) convention is in town this weekend. If you are unfamiliar with this spectacle, it is the nation's largest trade show for foodservice operators, distributors and suppliers, with over 70,000 attendees and 2,000 booths. This is essentially one-stop shopping for anyone in the restaurant industry, as vendors hawk fresh fruit and toilet paper, and everything in between. There are also lots of educational seminars, celebrity chef demos (Rick Bayless, Stephanie Izard) and celebrity chef book signings (Art Smith, Daniel Boulud). And did I mention the free food (and alcohol) samples? It's a fun, fun time. As a kid, my dad used to take me to the Sysco food expo in Louisville every now and then, so I knew what to expect for the most part. The only difference this time was that I was wielding a press pass, conspicuously marked green.

Obtaining a press pass was surprisingly easy, as I simply said I was a writer for Chicago Foodies and that was sufficient. This resulted in an incredible amount of access, and doors opened up that I never would have thought to crack. The show is closed to industry professionals only, and registration for most attendees is $80. Obtaining a press pass, on the other hand, is free. Plus, you have access to cover exlusive events (like the Restaurant Executive Breakfast on social media marketing) that are closed to general attendees.

More importantly, people are interested in coming to you. In the days leading up to the convention, I was barraged with dozens of emails from publicists who wanted to set up appointments with me to demonstrate new products. Chatting with the CEO of Lucid Absinthe, anyone? Several people called me (I submitted my cell when I registered), sometimes repeatedly, leaving voicemail entreaties (and always commenting at what a great voicemail message I have). I was somewhat stricken with guilt, but decided it'd be more painful to return any of their calls.

At the show itself, the spotlight continued to shine. I realize I'm a complete neophyte in journalism, but I was blown away by the interest that was immediately paid by people who noticed my green badge. It is astounding how people's demeanors change when they realize that you're press, and that every interaction they have with you could be influential in a very public way. "So, are you going to write about us?" asked one sales rep hopefully. "Probably!" I hedged, with a smile. At some points, craving anonymity, I took my clipboard and put it in front of my badge to hide it as I walked down the aisles. Unfortunately, I was called out by Dave from the toy crane machine booth, who said, "Oh, you're taking notes? Oh, you're press??" We then bonded over the hideousness of an adjoining Dixie ad that featured a guy in a burger suit.

Next up, the Candy Expo is in town next week.

Zappos

After discovering that my current everyday shoes had holes in the soles, and that the padding was disintegrating into chunks, I decided it was perhaps time to go shoe shopping. But wait, I hate shopping, for it invariably involves an inefficient expenditure of time and energy as you case out the selections at multiple stores, desperately look for your size on the jumbled clearance rack, then go back to buy the first thing you saw, only to find that it has been snapped up by some other shopper. Pooh, screw that. This is clearly an information asymmetry problem that can be solved by (Drama Button) the Internet!

Katherine suggested going to Zappos, and I was immediately intrigued. They offer free shipping and one free return on your shoes, plus you can avoid paying sales tax online. Moreover, with the long tail of the internet, you can pretty much find any style you could possibly want, in the size that you need. They group shoes by "lifestyle" category, which lead to some deep introspection...am I "Urban Mix" or "Retro"?

For a while, I was scrutinizing selections in the "Vegan" category, particularly these EcoSneaks made with organic cotton and recycled car tire inner tube. In the end though, I bought the first pair of shoes I liked (of course). These hybrid Adidas ballet flats were too ironically hilarious to pass up.

Let's review:

1. No need to physically manifest in a store filled with angsty teens or pushy sales clerks
2. Free shipping and returns
   
3. No sales tax (a nontrivial 10.25% in Chicago)
4. Browse the ginormous selection with your mouse

Did I mention that my shoes were delivered the next day?

Bank Structure Conference

The Chicago Fed hosted the 45th annual Bank Structure Conference this week, and I showed up for part of it, since today included such heavy-hitters like Ben Bernanke (Chairman of the Fed) and Sheila Bair (Chairman of the FDIC). I apologize that I didn't get a chance to ask Bernanke "What is the air-speed velocity of an unladen swallow?" during the Q & A, but my lame excuse is that I didn't have a pen at the time to submit a question. Some other highlights of his speech included:

• Q: So, the stress test results are due to be released later today...I don't suppose you could give us the answers ahead of time?
  Bernanke: No.
• Q: The Cubs are playing the Nationals tonight, and given their records, what do you think the chances are for subsidies for these teams?
  Bernanke: I think we need to get Soriano back.
• Hecklers: Midway through the speech, two college-age guys strode into the middle of the aisle and shouted: "Fractional reserve banking is fraudulent! Austrian economics is the answer!" They then bolted for the doors. I was a tad disappointed that they didn't wait to be forcibly removed by burly security guards; I was hoping for tasers in fact.

Of the panelists on financial regulation reform, the best speaker was definitely the finance professor from Chicago, while the worst speaker was the American Bankers Association COO. Let me qualify that statement by saying this is with regards to content, not presentation skills, because the ABA lobbyist had by far the best presentation jokes, and was the most entertaining/funniest speaker. Unfortunately, the content of her speech was at best mistaken, and at worst intentionally inaccurate. My blood was boiling as she kept trying to put the blame on other institutions (investment banks, insurance companies); the first half of her speech was pretty much "TISNF, I can't believe ya'll are trying to cut our compensation." She kept arguing that banks were already regulated enough, that they did not underwrite and purchase the vast majority of subprime securities, and it was the shadow banking industry that needed more oversight. This may be true for 98% of banks, but the part she neglected to mention is that the largest banks (Chase, Citi, B of A) were just as "negligent" in buying and underwriting subprime mortgages as the I-banks.

It's striking how a person's job title is a very good proxy for what their speech is going to say, and how good their presentation skills are. It really explains how idiot politicians get elected in this country.

Please Pass (on) the Tuna

By now, most people have read or heard about Fast Food Nation, an indictment of the modern factory farm, where cheap meat is produced at an all-too-high, hidden environmental cost. The recent emergence of swine flu has once again put the spotlight on factory farming and how the industry encourages the proliferation of disease. With that in mind, I began investigating the complementary industries of fishing and aquaculture. Taras Grescoe's Bottomfeeder: How to Eat Ethically in a World of Vanishing Seafood provides an eye-opening, informative guide to the state of the world's seafood supply, and is a must-read for anyone who eats seafood, if only for reasons of self-protection.

The oceans have long been credited with inexhaustible supplies of seafood, but a combination of industrial-age fishing techniques and a burgeoning human population has wiped out many fish stocks to levels of commercial extinction. Bottom-trawling, or dragging a net across the seafloor, essentially destroys and levels hundreds of square miles of seabed each day. Dynamite and cyanide are commonly used to stun reef fish (grouper, Napoleon wrasse); it is estimated that a square meter of coral reef is killed for every reef fish caught. Meanwhile, people have been consuming more and more seafood, from the newly affluent Chinese to the explosion of all-you-can-eat shrimp and crab specials at American chains like Red Lobster.

Grescoe introduces the concept of trophic numbers, a way to classify levels of the food chain, ranging from 1 for plankton and plants to 5 for large predators like lions or humans. Generally, eating closer to the bottom of the trophic scale is better for the environment. In a whirlwind tour around the world, Grescoe follows the supply chains of the globe's most popular seafood dishes. The bad news is, once you know the story behind that plate of pan-roasted monkfish, you will feel compelled to never eat it again. The good news is, there are plenty of alternative seafood choices which are both better for the environment and better for your health. Some of the species highlighted follow below.

Bluefin Tuna (trophic level 4.4)
Though the word "tuna" tends to evoke cans emblazoned with "chicken of the sea," the bluefin tuna could not be further from that image. A ferocious torpedo-shaped hunting machine, the bluefin can grow up to 15' in length and sprint at 50 mph. Unfortunately, the bluefin tuna is now the ocean's ultimate cash cow. Once plentiful, Atlantic bluefin stocks have declined by 90% over the past four decades to feed the demand for bluefin sushi. And despite efforts by conservationists to limit the number of bluefin caught, you can still pick up a bluefin nigiri breakfast (including the prized toro) for a mere $15 in Tokyo. Meanwhile, the long-lived tuna species (yellowfin, albacore and bluefin) tend to be dangerously high in mercury. Tuna is also commonly caught using longlining, which snags sharks, swordfish, seabirds and turtles as bycatch.

With that knowledge, I would rather cross tuna off my list of things to consume. Another option: non-longline-caught skipjack tuna (marketed as "light tuna") is low in mercury and relatively plentiful in oceans.

Shrimp (2.6)
Shrimp farming takes place in some of the world's poorest countries, and the industry has left indelible destruction on the scale of the 2004 Asian Tsunami. Like large poultry and swine operations, shrimp ponds are treated with heavy-duty chemicals including antibiotics (to prevent disease) and piscicides (to kill any competing aquatic life). The resultant pollution causes disease in natives, destroys groundwater and wipes out the livelihoods of neighboring farmers and small-scale fishermen. The effects extend to distant consumers as well; some people who believe they have allergies to shellfish are in fact reacting to antibiotic residues in farmed seafood. Wild shrimp, on the other hand, are usually caught with bottom-trawlers. For every pound of shrimp caught, another ten pounds of unwanted, dead fish are thrown overboard.

What, then, is the conscientious shrimp-lover to do? Examine your purchases very, very carefully. If the shrimp on display glisten unnaturally or taste soapy after cooking, they have probably been treated with sodium tripolyphosphate, a suspected neurotoxicant. Wild-caught shrimp are undoubtedly better for your health, but exert a huge environmental cost. That leaves only a few stocks of northern shrimp, pink shrimp and spot prawns in Canadian and northern US waters which are considered sustainable choices.

Other Good Alternatives:
Oysters and mussels (2.0) are farmed without chemicals and help clean the oceans. Small schooling fish like herring (3.2) and sardines (2.6) are low in toxins and relatively abundant. Jellyfish (2.0) have proliferated in recent years due to climate change and overfishing of top-level predators. Trout (4.4), arctic char (4.3) and barramundi (4.4) are farmed in non-polluting, contained inland systems. Farmed tilapia (2.0) and catfish (3.8) are herbivores, so they do not diminish the net supply of protein, and buying domestic products reduces the risk of antiotic residues.

When buying seafood, you should be able to make an informed choice with 3 questions. Was the fish farmed or wild-caught? If wild, what ocean did it come from and what port did it land in? How was it caught (trawl net, hook and line)? If farmed, was it farmed domestically or overseas? If overseas, in which country? Shedd Aquarium provides a handy, wallet-size card that lists recommendations for purchasing seafood. I've printed one out to carry as a reference guide. But in the end, all the knowledge in the world won't help you if your grocer, fishmonger or server does not know the source of their products. If you find someone knowledgeable and willing to answer your questions (Dirk's and the Fishguy come to mind), support their business with your purchases.

Slap that Bass

Let me begin by confessing that I was mostly underwhelmed by the suggestion to attend the latest U of C orchestra concert. It's a concert featuring who, Edgar Meyer? A bass soloist? Wait, who does that?? Nothing against the double bass, but the instrument simply doesn't have the range and timbre to possibly be interesting as a solo instrument. From what I recall from middle school orchestra, the worst students were generally the ones relegated to playing bass, since those parts were the simplest and consisted mostly of straight quarter notes. Why would I want to listen to a bassist again? But the desire to look cultured, the inclusion of free tickets, and a lack of better alternatives prevailed, so I agreed to go check out the show.

The orchestra began with a romantic classic, Brahms' Variations on a Theme of Haydn. This is a gorgeous piece, and the orchestra performed it admirably, but this was nothing to write home (or blog) about. Actually, after the concert I was asked by orchestra members if I liked the Brahms, because they were worried about the audience being bored. I'm not sure what this says about the state of modern attention spans.

After this, it was time for the concert's featured soloist to emerge. Deftly carrying a double bass over his head, Edgar Meyer strode out to the front of the stage and set down his instrument with a flourish. The orchestra began to play Bottesini's Concerto No. 2 in B Minor for Contrabass and Orchestra, and as I watched Meyer attack his cadenzas, I suddenly had a newfound respect for the world's greatest living bassist.

Picture yourself standing on one foot. Now do it on tip-toes with your eyes closed. Now simultaneously juggle half a dozen balls and balance a fruit basket on your head while reciting the alphabet backwards. That task is almost approaching the level of Herculean technical difficulty exhibited by Meyer's bass playing. Sure, any virtuoso violinist can throw down speedy runs and rapid shifting between intervals, but these tasks are magnified to new heights of difficulty on a bass. After all, you have that much more distance to deal with. Meyer was polishing off jaw-dropping passages without a sweat. Harmonics? Check. Double stops? Check. This man definitely has a +18 for dexterity; little wonder he has been called the "Paganini of the bass." I bet if he wanted to, he could play triple stops. At the same time. That's right. Without a doubt, this was the most exciting orchestral soloist I have ever seen.

With a little post-concert research, I discovered that Meyer has won a slew of awards, including two Grammys for his work on Bela Fleck's Perpetual Motion and a MacArthur genius grant in 2002 (which has no application, comes with $500,000 and no stipulations on how to spend it). His work spans the gamut from Bach to bluegrass, and he has recorded with such classical heavyweights as Yo-Yo Ma and Joshua Bell. Meyer's bass is customized with a lower than normal bridge, which makes it easier to press down on the strings for upper range notes. The fingerboard is also extra long, which extends Meyer's range to a little over 5 octaves. Most bass players stick with a range of 2-3 octaves. And horror of horrors, Meyer's fingerboard includes dots to mark the placement of notes. Beginning string players often mark their instruments with tape or stickers to guide their fingers, but seeing this on a professional instrument is practically sacriligious. With the speed at which Meyer's fingers must move though, I am willing to give him a pass on the extra intonation guidance.

The second half of the program featured one of Meyer's compositions. Truly, it takes cojones to both play and write half of a program. Meyer's Concerto No. 1 in D Major for Double Bass and Orchestra includes three movements, titled very simply after their metronome markings: quarter-note = 109, quarter-note = 74, quarter-note = 180. This is undoubtedly a brilliant idea, far superior than titling movements after a subjective term like "allegro." The concerto went on to showcase Meyer's combination of classical training and Tennessee roots, with passages that exhibited bluegrass influences.

At the end, to thunderous clapping and loud hoots, Meyer took a bow and left the stage. And then came back and did it again. And again. And again and again. The audience was on their feet and not getting off the applause train any time soon. Finally, after Meyer's umpteenth trip back and forth from the stage, we gave up on the possibility of an encore and began filtering out of Mandell Hall. A reception with trays of hors d'oeuvres was set up in an adjacent room and we beelined in that direction. Note to Cornell: the CSO and WE concerts ought to be catered with fruit trays, cookies and mozzarella, basil & tomato skewers. This will greatly improve our US News ranking, I swear.

As he autographed programs at the reception, Meyer was warm and self-effacing, thanking audience members and heaping praise upon the orchestra. With an unruly mop of hair and '30s-style suspenders, I was reminded of a humble John C. Reilly. And if anyone is still considering switching to a music major, Meyer commented that at one point, he had been a math major before switching. I suppose it all worked out in the end, eh?

Sound Opinions

Some of you have commented in the past about my pop music illiteracy, and my only defense is that I am an NPR junkie. Discounting streaming internet radio like Pandora, 90% of the radio I listen to is NPR. My dad listened almost exclusively to NPR in the car as I was growing up (the alternate station was Lite 106.9, which is how I learned all my oldies). Even today, I associate clipped British accents with the BBC World News Report and I walk around humming the theme song for Morning Edition. All Things Considered, This American Life, Car Talk...no matter the topic, the programming is informative, witty and appropriately pretentious. I've seen Corey Flintoff live in "Wait, Wait Don't Tell Me." I own the NPR "Driveway Moments" CDs (a driveway moment is when you reach your location but sit in the driveway because you're waiting to hear the end of a story). Every year, as they beseech me to donate to their annual fundraising drive, I get a little bit closer to writing in NPR as the sole beneficiary of my will.

One of my more recent discoveries is the Sound Opinions program, which conveniently airs on Saturday mornings as I run errands. Each week features a musical guest, along with reviews of upcoming CDs. Past artists have included everyone from political activist turned musician Saul Williams to Portland's beard-sporting Blitzen Trapper. Groups tend to be fairly underground names, though occasionally there are almost-mainstream-but-still-have-indie-cred bands like Wilco and the Decemberists. With an intuitive "Buy It, Burn It, Trash It" rating system, Jim and Greg offer critiques and opinions on whether an album is worth buying, destined for the trash heap, or perhaps worth acquiring through, um, alternate means.

Yesterday's show featured guest Jill Sobule, with a review on Booker T. Jones' latest album. Sobule is a singer/songwriter with a talent for narrative lyrics with a touch of humor, one part "Flight of the Conchords" with one part Tori Amos. She has also made appearances at TED with comedian Julia Sweeney.

On past exes: Wendell Lee
On generational gaps: Nothing to Prove

I didn't hear the entirety of the Booker T. Jones review, but I was quite entertained by this cover of Outcast's "Hey Ya," which replaces Andre 3000 with More Organ.

Rare Instances of Phone > IM

About once a week, generally on Sunday afternoons, my mom and I have a long, lazy chat. There's never any purpose to the conversation, unless you count catching up on family gossip. Half the time, we put each other on speakerphone and casually throw out topics, as I chop vegetables and she sorts through laundry.

Sometimes I'll get stories from the past, from my mom's childhood in Vietnam, or my parents' struggles as fresh-off-the-boat immigrants. Today, my mom recounted how she excelled at dance class in elementary school, but the teacher wouldn't give her the lead role because she couldn't afford to buy the costume. "You could be a flower or a strand of grass, but those outfits were more expensive. What did I end up as? An insect!" Then she wistfully said that had she been born in a wealthier family, or a different country, she would probably be an excellent ballet dancer today.

Sometimes I'll get stories from the present, the latest juice on my brother's prom date (Korean & ditzy?) or my renegade 20-year-old cousin who eloped and ran off to Italy. Apparently she came back recently to give birth to a daughter, to ensure her claims to American citizenship, then immediately went back to Europe.

Often, I get unsolicited advice, gentle probing questions, and reassurances. Despite seeing my family once, maybe twice a year, they continue to shape and influence my decisions with an invisible hand. And these days, I pass on plenty of suggestions and knowledge too, from technical help, to how to make sushi, to reminders to buy extra-long sheets for my brother for next fall.

Mostly, I just want to say I'm grateful that my mom has always been super supportive, even when I posit crazy proposals, like quitting my job to do a master's in gastronomy in Italy. Not too many parents would immediately throw their weight behind something like this, and then suggest that I take advantage of Italian voice lessons while I'm over there.

I can only hope to someday be as great of a parent.