Despite how I attempt to present this newsletter, the inside of my skull is more of a hotpot of spicy and funky items bobbing in broth than, say, an artisan cheese. So, for today, here are some meats and vegetables.
On Technology Versus Changing the Balance of Power and Wealth:
I got some really thoughtful responses to the newsletter I wrote about CRISPR. CRISPR has continued to be on my mind a lot—as I suspect it will be for a long time to come—because the news is riddled in CRISPR bits… Case in point: A company called Colossal is trying to use CRISPR to bring back the Woolly Mammoth, or more accurately, to edit genes within Asian elephants to transform them into something closer to a Woolly Mammoth. They claim the purpose is climate change remediation—breeding a herd of woolly mammoths that will stomp around the tundra to break up moss and fertilize native grasses.
I appreciated that the article linked to above did discuss who invested in the work, and I noted the confession from Ben Lamm, founder of the Texas-based artificial intelligence company Hypergiant, “We are hopeful and confident that there will be technologies that come out of it that we can build individual business units out of.” Essentially, this project may be cover for less savory efforts presented under the banner of altruism, albeit really-far-out-there, fantastical altruism.
Within that article, I also loved this wild series of statements: first, “no one has ever harvested eggs from an elephant.” And then, immediately after that, we “decided to make an artificial mammoth uterus lined with uterine tissue grown from stem cells.” I was struck that they haven’t even figured out how to harvest elephant eggs but are proceeding with a project that requires that ability and then the very nascent technology around artificial uteruses. Cart before the horse, no?
There is precedent for the tech industry to advance the science around synthetic uteruses. Could that be one reason for the tech investments? Synthetic uteruses are presented as a way to free women from nine months of pregnancy so they can compete on equal footing with men in the workplace—as though, as Charlie Warzel points out sarcastically, the biggest time suck of having a child was the nine months of pregnancy and not the rest of your life as a parent! Or that we need to prioritize working days and productivity over all else.
But back to the CRISPR Woolly Mammoths saving us from climate change, I would argue there are less expensive and outlandish ways we can address climate change, but as usual, they are not “being considered because they would mean changing the balance of power and wealth.” I am quoting my friend Josh Volk, a wonderful thinker and farmer, who wrote this considerate response to what I’d written about CRISPR that I think nails some pieces especially well:
Before CRISPR was a thing I had the opportunity to talk to a friend of mine’s basic ecology class at St. Joseph’s University in Philadelphia. My friend is a biology professor there, and I’ve known him since we were in 7th grade together. He’s very much the kind of person who thinks primarily about the science and not the larger implications and is definitely skeptical of anti-GMO not because he can’t see that there might be some problems with the science, but because he’s confident that science like genetic modification can solve problems and he sees clear misunderstandings of the actual science within many people’s zealous critiques. He asked me to give some perspective on organic farming and GMOs to his class from the organic farmer perspective and when I brought up the exact point you made in the class I think that really stuck with him. He’s been teaching it since. I agree with him that the science is worth exploring - but I think your point that the way money and power drive how it is used, under the guise of altruism, is a huge problem. One of the things I pointed out was that the problems that GMOs were trying to fix in agriculture (such as golden rice and roundup ready soy) were already actually much more easily and effectively addressed using far simpler and lower tech thinking - but those solutions weren’t being considered because they would mean changing the balance of power and wealth. (Emphasis mine.)
We exchanged emails, and in another follow-up, he added this important point.
The other argument against GMO, or at least major caution, which I don’t hear as much as some others, but I think is pretty well understood and cited by scientists is that potential contamination is unlike chemical contamination in that once the genetic material is out in the wild it is self propagating and extremely hard to control.
I love these additional perspectives. Thanks to Josh for letting me share. That central question—when are we being seduced by technology that sounds miraculous (WTF Woolly Mammoths?!) when there are lower-fi options that require rearranging power structures—is something I am holding close. I’m grateful to have those words to return to.
Writing Residencies:
In 2019, I attended my first writing residency. It was a life-changing experience. The residency took place in rural Southern Oregon near where my dad grew up in Lakeview at a spot called PLAYA Summer Lake. I arrived as the full moon was rising on the other side of an expansive dry lake bed known as a playa. The moon was enormous, like an image on the sci-fi channel of life on another planet. And this residency was life on another planet, one where all my time was my own; I awoke before dawn to greet the pink ribbons of sky before sunrise and walk onto the playa where I could watch my long shadow shrink into its squat form; my friends were archeologists who studied ancient tools and coprolites (ancient poop!) and young poets and old printmakers. It was a space apart. I wrote the first pieces of what became essays I published with Oregon Humanities, which in turn helped me write a book proposal that led me the book I am currently writing with Milkweed Editions.
Writing residencies are an extreme privilege. They require leaving work and home, which usually means someone else has to step in. They mean leaving behind wages you may be using to support yourself and others, which requires some degree of financial security, even if the residency is covering your room and board. For me, they have required the people I am closest with sacrificing something to allow me that much freedom. I know not everyone has the opportunity to make these escapes.
I am over the moon that I am heading off on Thursday for five weeks to attend two residencies. The first, called Hedgebrook, is on Whidbey Island, where I will be with five other women writers in various genres. The second, called Oatmeal Creek, is an hour north of Austin, Texas. I will be completely alone there, with the exception of the landowner, two belligerent emus, a donkey, and the native fauna.
It is a gift of my current life that I can do this, and not something I take for granted. Everyone who I am close with is stepping up to help, which means the world. I am not going to post any newsletters during those five weeks. This has never been a frequent and routine newsletter so I suppose nothing new! I have a lot of excitement and a lot of nerves. I look forward to sharing about the experience when I return.
On Hot Pot:
When I first moved back to my childhood home after college, we would turn on the heat in the house as little as possible to save money. At night in winter, I’d bundle up in a down jacket, long johns under sweatpants, a winter hat and a blanket thrown over my shoulders like a cape. Sometimes, my brother and I would make hot pot, standing over the stove, eating and collecting the steam in the shelter of our blankets.
Now we turn on the heat more at home, but I still love to hot pot. Hot pot is not to be confused with an Instant Pot. In Japan, hot pot simply means a pot held over a steady heat source in which you cook food in simmering water or broth, usually table side. Both the dish and the vessel it’s cooked in are called hot pot, or nabe in Japanese. Traditionally that would have been an earthenware pot hung over the central fire of the household where all the cooking took place and people gathered to stay warm. Today that can be anything from a pot over a butane burner to a special plug-in device to a brother and sister hunched over their stove.
The most famous Japanese hot pot dishes are sukiyaki (maybe you know the song) and shabu-shabu, an onomatopoetic name that describes swishing thin slices of meat in simmering broth (swish swish, shabu shabu.) Both tend to feature thoroughly marbled meat cut as thin as flower petals. But hot pot in the home is usually a humbler though no less interactive affair.
Hot pot is the ultimate metaphor for what communal living can be. Interactive and cumulative, what starts as a relatively plain broth becomes richer, fuller, and more complex as each person contributes, adding vegetables, meat, tofu, and mushrooms. I like to gather a large group of people and have everyone contribute ingredients, prepping them together just before eating. That said, we are not living in the age of plucking food from communal pots. But since this recipe is for four people, perhaps you have a little pod with whom this would be like a night on the town!
The following recipe is one of an endless variety of hot pots, and even here, the ingredient list is flexible. My rule of thumb is that for each person, I mix 1 cup water with 1 tablespoon miso, so feel free to adapt this recipe up and down with that general idea. We keep a pitcher of water at the table to add to the pot if people take a lot of broth. While you’re actively cooking things, the liquid should come up above the ingredients in the pot. This miso pork version becomes flavorful enough that it doesn’t require a dipping sauce, but dipping sauces are fun and always welcome. Recipes for two easy and classic dipping sauces follow. I also like to have some chili oil or shichimi togarashi, a chili powder mix, at the table for people to add at will.
Miso Pork Hot Pot
Makes 4 servings
4 cups water
1/4 cup miso
2 pieces (2 x 4 inches each, or thereabouts) kombu
1 head napa cabbage, raggedy outer leaves removed, cut into 1-inch lengths
1 daikon radish, peeled, quartered lengthwise, and cut into ¼-inch slices
1/2 bunch green onions, trimmed and sliced into 2-inch pieces
1 pound assorted mushrooms—oyster, shiitake, shimeji, enoki, wild mushrooms, etc.—torn into bite-sized pieces
1 package (about 1 pound) medium or firm tofu, cut into large 1-1/2-inch cubes
1 pound boneless pork shoulder
Shime aka finisher: 2 cups cooked rice or 4 servings cooked ramen or udon noodles
Optional veggies: bok choi, burdock, carrot, cauliflower, chrysanthemum greens, lotus root, mizuna, spinach, taro, you name it, cut into bite-sized pieces
With a fork, chopsticks, or a whisk, combine the miso with 1 cup water until smooth. Add to the remaining water and reserve. Place the kombu in the bottom of a hot pot. Stick the pork in the freezer, wrapped tightly. You will freeze the pork just long enough to prep the other vegetables so it will be easy to slice thinly.
In layers in the empty pot, add a portion of the cabbage, daikon, green onion, mushrooms, tofu, and any other veggies until it is nearly filled to the top. (The greens will wilt and the volume will shrink, don’t worry.) Add the remainding ingredients to a platter, each in its own spot, creating a color map of ingredients to be added to the hot pot later. Pour miso water over the ingredients and bring to a lively simmer over high heat. Immediately reduce heat to low and cover with a lid.
Remove the pork from the freezer and slice as thinly as you can. (Hot pot is a good excuse to practice making a plate-sized meat rose—a funny Japanese restaurant thing where they treat thin slices of pork or beef like petals, building what looks like a rose. This is not necessary, but if ever there was an opportunity, this is it.) Place meat on its own plate or platter with its own pair of chopsticks.
Sit everyone at the table. Uncover the pot and add a good amount of the pork. Cover the pot again for 30 seconds. Lift the lid. When the pork loses its pink, invite everyone to dig in, plucking items from the hot pot to their own bowls, and taking a ladleful of broth when they want. As the ingredients lessen in the pot, have people add from the platters and pour in additional water as needed to keep the ingredients covered. If you add a lot of raw ingredients, temporarily cover with a lid and bring back to a simmer until cooked, then uncover and keep eating. Go until you are almost full. Now is the time for your shime (she-may) or finisher—the thing that seals your stomach closed.
If you are finishing your meal with rice—a move called ojiya—add the cooked rice to the remaining broth, keep over medium heat and, being careful not to burn it, cook until the liquid reduces and the rice absorbs the broth and become a thick porridge. Eat.
If you are finishing your meal with noodles, add the cooked noodles to the remaining broth. Keep over medium heat and, being careful not to burn it, cook and stir until the broth reduces to a thick gravy. Eat.
Creamy Lemon Tahini Dipping Sauce
Combine equal parts toasted tahini, lemon juice, and soy sauce. Add a spoonful of honey or sugar. Thin with water to a loose saucy consistency. Give everyone their own individual bowl with around half-cup dipping sauce.
Ponzu (Citrus-Shoyu Dipping Sauce)
Combine equal parts tart fresh citrus juice (lemon, lime, grapefruit, yuzu, or sudachi would be best), rice vinegar, and soy sauce. Add a spoonful of honey or sugar to taste. Give everyone their own individual bowl with around half-cup dipping sauce. Thin with the broth from the hot pot as you go.