New Study Shows Residents in Alaska Native Villages Pay More for Staple Grocery Items (For Edible Alaska)
It’s long been assumed that Alaska Native and American Indian communities pay higher costs for food while earning lower-than-average incomes. Now there’s data to back it up.
A food price monitoring report released June 5 with data from the first three months of 2017 illustrates how the combination of these two factors has led to nutritional and financial struggles for many Native American communities.
Whether working with a small space or a large plot, most gardeners like to plant flowers as well as vegetables. The blooms can attract pollinators, some can deter pests and all add beauty to your bounty
Will establishing the Arctic as its own food region save the culture? These chefs hope so. (For Edible Alaska)
When asked to name German foods, most people would say bratwurst, pretzels, schnitzel, and beer. Southern food would elicit responses like fried chicken, grits, collard greens, and barbecue.
But what about Arctic food? As it turns out, there aren’t any easy answers. A group of Arctic chefs and academics is trying to change that.
If you ask my family, I’ve never been too shy to say what needs to be said. I won’t sugarcoat it — I have found the best doughnuts in Anchorage.
As I write, there is sugar coursing through my veins. Some people talk about being able to feel adrenaline move through your body, but I think I can feel the sucrose pumping its way from my heart to my hands.
The red vinyl covering the seat of the booth groaned as I reached for my yellow mug of diner coffee. Suddenly, my weekend morning (OK, early afternoon) was interrupted by a wave of recollection: driving in a white Jeep on a road that hugged the ocean, windows down and music up.
Much to the dismay of my mother, I have now lived in both of the outlying states in the U.S.: Hawaii and Alaska. As a senior in high school, my rural upbringing and craving for adventure spurred my decision to apply to a university on the island of Oahu.
A few months later, I learned that I got in. With some finagling, faith, and financial aid, I boarded a plane alone and left everything I knew behind. When I landed, I had to figure out how to catch a city bus.
In Honolulu, a city of a million souls, I saw for the first time what it looked like for people to live on top of one another — on the ranch our nearest neighbor was a mile away. I became aware of new cultures each accompanied by their own sights, smells and tastes.
Our sense of smell is intricately linked to our sense of taste — and to memory. So as I reached for that Fiestaware mug, it was the smell of the Kava’s Pancake House breakfast fried rice that transported me to that day years ago when my friends and I were driving to the North Shore of Oahu.
A three-part harmony, a good burger and a cold milkshake are part of what made America great. Not so common anymore, diners call us back to a time of bobby socks, a good jukebox and leather-topped stools where one could belly up for some grub.
My grandfather used to tell me that as a bachelor, he would go to a diner every Thanksgiving to get a turkey dinner. The image has had a Norman Rockwell-esque staying power in my mind since I was small.
That, along with a hangover, drew me to City Diner in Anchorage.
PALMER – High up on a plain white wall, the skinny hand of a clock ticked away the seconds, counting down the moments competitors had left to enter their creations.
When the time came, the door was shut to the dark and stormy night outside and a small group of 12 judges were assigned to stations around the room. Surrounding them were tables full of cookies, pies, breads, muffins, cakes, fudge, and cupcakes — sometimes dozens of each kind.
At 9:41 p.m., the first bite was taken. Everything would need to be tasted before they could all go home.
Sometimes a place isn’t so much about geography or what’s inside. Its significance lies in the people who are there.
We sat beneath a chandelier made of wine bottles in the middle of the bar. I was eagerly awaiting our eight-course feast. I was skeptical. The tickets sport a $110 price tag, yet I reserved judgment.
My dining partner and fellow writer, Wanderer and I were inside Crush, a wine bistro in downtown Anchorage, but our reservation was for an entirely different restaurant — Harvest.
Harvest restaurant is a pop-up, which by nature is temporary. It’s part of a worldwide dining trend that focuses on exclusive offerings from seasoned chefs, who cook up unique cuisine to tell stories that highlight the best of the harvest at that time.
ANCHORAGE – A two-story white house in Midtown doesn’t look like any other on its block, but the sounds inside are familiar. Last Friday afternoon, laughter emanated from a toothy grin on the face of 1-year-old Athina Tziolas. She chewed a cookie while in the arms of her mother, Zoi Maroudas-Tziolas.
With the curious mind of a child her age, there was only one thing that was able to keep Athina’s attention: food. Although foods like kale, spinach, broccoli and Brussels sprouts are staples of healthy fare, for children they usually aren’t a favorite.
Zoi Maroudas-Tziolas is working to change that.
There's no doubt about it, in multiple cultures all around the world, winter is soup season.
My counterpart had the same notion-plus an elephantine amount more ambition-to procure a big, steaming bowl of ramen to battle the dark days of winter ("Momofuk'in good," Zack Fields, Dec. 10). While he smoked, simmered and boiled his own batch of Momofuku-style ramen, I went to Naruto.
Growing up, I had a friend with dark hair and espresso-colored eyes whose skin turned a deep shade of copper in the sun. Her brother was flame-haired, fair-skinned and freckled. (Yes, I’m positive he wasn’t adopted.) While they both shared the same roots of an Irish father and a Native American mother, their characteristics couldn’t have been more different.
Much is the same with Italian and Italian-American food.
Lackluster Italian at Romano’s
Romano’s has been the cool kid in Anchorage’s Italian food scene for quite some time. Locally-owned, the place is a dated darling that boasts being Anchorage’s favorite Italian restaurant for an eight-year run, but it’s easy to see why they’ve come up short for the title recently.
The local staple is trying to keep things fresh in their home-style restaurant and cuisine. A visit to their website gives the impression that the atmosphere is lively and the floor plan open, with hip twists on Italian favorites, promising an “eruption of magical tastes in your month [sic] with every bite of food you take.”
In reality, the place is strikingly different from the stock photography used to build their site. Take for instance, the photo of a beautifully-plated caprese salad—that’s not on the menu.
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