Letters to the Editor

What You Say

	print	email	reply	rss feed

Published: Aug 6, 2008

The Dark Side

I disagree with the assertion that there is "no way to tell if scrap metal is stolen" [Cover Story, "Living Off Scrap," Isaiah Thompson, July 31, 2008].

Scrap dealers should refuse (and not be allowed) to buy material from graveyards. My grandparents' and aunt's graves were desecrated for metal. In addition, every headstone in the rest of the graveyard was damaged. It's pretty *!^&#* obvious what's going on when someone comes in with a truckload of grave markers. If pawnshops are forced to be accountable for what they take in, so should these dealers. Things that appear to be obvious public property — light posts, statues — should also be suspect, and checked somehow, not just accepted without a peep.

I'm also a member of Freecycle. Our group had a problem with folks putting out appliances for a fellow Freecycler. One of these scrappers who lurked in the group came by (not by accident) and cut off the cord for wire. What was, one minute, a working electronic item being kept out of a landfill, was a piece of toxic waste the next (since electronics are full of lead solder). That man's scrapping was not an environmental boon but a detriment — almost as unethical as the grave robbers.

Diana Brooks
New Jersey

As the director of community partnerships for GlaxoSmithKline, I was very disappointed to see your newspaper use a highly successful and important program such as GlaxoSmithKline's Science in the Summer to attack GSK and the idea of corporations giving back to their local communities [Opinion, "Generous Scoundrels," Bruce Schimmel, July 3, 2008].

While Mr. Schimmel might take exception to the idea that corporations should support their local communities, it is only through partnerships like GlaxoSmithKline's Science in the Summer that unique and innovative programs can exist and flourish.

Science is not in the curriculum for many students until high school, where the pressure of the course work often overrides the enjoyment of discovery. If students, particularly girls and minorities, can be introduced to subjects such as chemistry, genetics and bioscience at an early age in a fun and hands-on experience, it is more likely they will develop a lifelong enjoyment and openness to these subjects. This year alone, GlaxoSmithKline's Science in the Summer, a program developed by a GSK researcher, will introduce 5,200 students in the Philadelphia area to science. Since its inception 22 years ago, more than 92,000 students have participated in the program, with some of our alumni now in college study to be scientists and teachers.

The article's attack on the program was unwarranted and misdirected. GlaxoSmithKline believes in community investment activities to help promote education and better health care. Before printing the article, perhaps someone should have talked to the parents, students or teachers whose interest in science has changed due to this program. Just a thought.

Mary Linda Andrews
Director of community partnerships

GlaxoSmithKline

Schimmel responds: Although I realize it is your job to defend GSK, I wish you would have read my column with more care. Nowhere did I attack the general idea of corporations giving back. I specifically singled out GSK's cynical use of this program. If GSK had simply wanted to benefit communities — no strings attached — they would follow the lead of Johnson & Johnson (for example) and run programs through a nonprofit. Or, better yet, just lower what Americans pay for GSK's drugs. Further, I did speak with teachers, parents and children; their quotes are in the column.

'Hav You Tried My Flatbread?

I would like to comment on your article "Worth your weight?" [Food, Trey Popp, July 31, 2008], an egalitarianist's review on Zahav restaurant.

At the surface, it appears you have done your homework on Chef Michael Solomonov and his "staff of overachievers." You are aware of ingredients that make up the food which "didn't expand [your] culinary horizons," you observed the hand-carved "butcher's block" table tops and hand-painted "colored glasses ... in perforated metal lamps," while attentively listening to your knowledgeable "server" who "shared facts [with you] in an evident effort to impress." But more on this later.

Despite what you read in the Philadelphia Inquirer and watch on Fox News, the Middle East has for thousands of centuries been using the same farm-grown foods as are used here today: tomatoes, chick peas, peppers, zucchini, eggplant, oils, seeds, nuts, rice and flour. Even to this day, Middle Eastern women prepare hand-made soups, breads, sauces and meals that over time are perfected in consistency, texture, flavor and character. Granted, our vegetables have steroids injected and our meats contain hormones, but who's counting that?

I myself prepare my own flatbread. Flour, water, salt, sugar, oil and yeast. A recipe is more than ingredients and measurements. It's also preparation, awareness and constant re-evaluation. The results are never the same. Time for preparation must account for the rising and setting of the dough, rolling a consistent thickness, and baking at the proper heat to avoid over drying, shrinking or browning on the top. Afterward, my creation may join many other foods on the table, and may never receive one single person's compliment on the perfect amount of salt, or the softness of the dough when chewing.

When I first started to prepare my own foods, I thought how easily I could achieve the same results if I just put some time into memorizing the ingredients and preparation from a cookbook. The results gave me compliments, but I knew in my soul, that I should have kneaded the dough one or two more times, because it was tough to chew, and I should have sprinkled some salt after baking, so it would add texture. So I tried again.

For our six-month anniversary, my Turkish husband and I went to Marigold kitchen for dinner where at the time Mr. Solomonov was preparing the menu. We sat through 12 courses of food which took us four hours to eat. On the second course, my husband, who hasn't been back to Turkey in four years, began to change. He explained how the Turkish humus that was served to us, warm and delicate in texture, spiced perfectly with saffron and paprika, was a memory that he almost had forgotten. He began to tear. For him, food was not a source of energy to fuel his body, food was not a taste for him to remember, food was simply a memory of his childhood, his adolescence and his existence in his own country.

Although humus is not Turkish by origin, it is shared by many Middle Eastern countries, each adding their own ingredients, prepared uniquely by region and complemented with a variety of different foods. I have been taught by many native Middle Easterners the "right way" to prepare my flatbread, but the relationship with their flatbread is different than the relationship that I have with my flatbread. I'm not talking about ingredients, preparation, or baking, I'm talking about the memories that I create, the conversations that are held, and the stories good or bad, that I will have to tell others one day.

Now back to your article. To me, you sound like you have never prepared something with your own two hands in your entire life. From concept, to market, to washing and rinsing, to cutting or peeling, to dividing and measuring, to sifting or kneading, to flavoring and shaping, to tasting and correcting, to baking and watching, to waiting, to smelling, to smiling, to anticipation, to serving, to savoring, to relaxing, reflecting and exhausting.

Your article has no character, only words written in the recipe book of someone else. No memories will be made of it. And no one will be telling others about it.

I feel sad that your life's experiences have left you with nothing which "provoked discussion" about the food which you ate at Zahav. I feel sad that you weren't stuffed with bread and butter and forced to comment to the staff how delighted you were to be fat with pride that you finished everything on your plate. I feel sad that you insult the dedication of the "overachieving staff" because of your waiter's pride in the kitchens transformation of food, from market to table, or in your case from Israel and the Middle East to your bathroom toilet.

Like many other Philadelphians you may prefer affordable food prepared with sauces shipped fresh from Sysco, or extraordinary large plates of food meant for doggie bags and refrigerators. But I would like to remind you that this is the reason why you are sitting on the outside of "the Quarters" instead of stuffing yourself with great memories, and enjoying the real Zahav on the inside.

Since "the restaurant simply needs more time to find its own identity," why is their a demand to review this young gem so early? This article is hardly fair and balanced as you admit you didn't commit your time to visiting "the Quarters." Anyone can go for dinner, but why not get the real story on the inside?

It is often said that people in Philadelphia cannot appreciate dinning out, much less a restaurant that is an extension of a chef's kitchen at home. You may have described Zahav at its best as "classy, sophisticated and comfortable," but these were only your first impressions weighted down by a price tag. Can you find hand-boiled coffee at Bar Ferdinand, or 15 hand-rolled layers of pistachio baklava? These are the details that you missed when comparing Zahav with Bar Ferdinand, which is Spanish and a European colony remind you.

I hardly believe Zahav is trying to impress an elite class of individuals with fancy décor or steal money from those who can't afford to go to dinner in the first place. It's a living, breathing kitchen with some of the most talented chefs in this city because they dare to make the food by hand, with recipes that have history, and ingredients that are imported and local. With nearly 30 employees on hand, I hardly believe they are rolling in gold. A smart chef would teach each individual employee the importance of preparation and that one employee would prepare and make that one dish and only that dish, and make it with perfection.

Unfortunately, you cannot see Zahav through my eyes or chef Solomonov's eyes. You only see what you know about restaurants, and that is what's on the outside. In my opinion restaurants are meant for a special occasion, not a weekly expenditure. One has truly lost the value of dinning when the only thing that is remembered, is the price tag in the end.

Thank you for listening to my opinion.

Indigo Popp
Via e-mail

Indigo's Flatbread Recipe

Please allow at least two hours from start to finish.

You can also stuff bread with spinach, meat or lamb, cheese, or potato, then fold in half and cook.

To Start:

8 ounces active yeast

1 t. sugar

salt

oil

4 cups flour

rolling pin

flat pan

tea towel

oven or large teflon pan

Preparation 1:

In a sealable container, combine 8 ounces active yeast with sugar, pinch of salt and 1 cup very warm water.

Stir with a fork, seal, then rest in a warm and sunny or warm, bright place.

After 5 to 10 minutes the yeast will activate and begin to bubble or foam.

Combine yeast mixture with 3 cups sifted white flour. Add 1 tablespoon olive oil.

Mix ingredients until a ball forms and ingredients are mixed completely.

Divide ball into 4 smaller balls. Place on a flat pan, cover and place in a warm sunny place.

Allow dough to rise twice its size (approximately 20 minutes).

Preparation 2:

Divide each small ball in half. Punch dough flat on a floured surface and roll until desired size and thickness of bread is achieved (approximately 10-20 inches).

Bake on a flat sheet pan for 10 minutes until risen and golden [or]

In a large teflon pan add oil. Fold rolled dough in half and cook each side until golden with edges crispy.

Afterward drizzle with extra virgin olive oil and salt or spices: safron, paprika, oregano, sumac.

All reader comments are subject to our Terms of Use. By clicking Post Comment, you acknowledge that you have reviewed and agree to these Terms.

Name	please enter your name
Email (will not be published)	please enter a valid email
Comment	please enter a comment
Enter the security code on the right in the textbox below.
Security Code	please enter the code
	Join the City Paper Mailing List

Get Lost
Gambling on Atlantic City
What I Learned in Reform School