Savoring Summer

As we go from 80 degree days to 60 degrees, we have another guest post by Thommy reminding us to gather ye rosebuds (or zucchinis and figs!) while ye may!

The fact that the majority of people in America live in the setting of urban modernity shows that the (post) industrial world has provided many great things to its citizens.  The world’s urban centers are great concentrations of activity that allows for progress and prosperity.  But clearly there is a great expense for all of the benefits this world provides.  This resource-intensive system is also ridden with poverty, pollution, and an ironic isolation that can only be experienced in suburbia.  Another tradeoff is the homogenization of culture and a disconnection with the natural world.

I remember listening to a program on NPR while driving years ago. Some high school students were given the phrase “Everything that’s unique” as a point of departure for a poetry assignment.  Predictably, many of the resulting poems were of the cliché, tediously heartwarming type that breeds rainbow-colored flying horses with unicorn horns (as far from unique as this creature can transport someone).  One poem, however, stood out in a way that made me pull my car over to stop and listen.  The young man read his poem that bemoaned the coming of big-box stores to his rural town.  “All we sacrifice is everything that’s unique,” was the poem’s conclusion.  It is clear that the young poet was painfully aware of the shortfalls of the urban setting.

So what can we do to reclaim what is lost to industrial anonymity?  A very direct way of accomplishing this is through food.  I can sum up my favorite meals with the acronym SLIF.  I praise foods that are Seasonal, Local, Idiosyncratic, and Fresh.  A simple way of doing this is to keep a garden.  Even the smallest addition of homegrown food will enrich the experience of eating and resurrect seasonality.  But if it’s impossible to grow your own food, look to the region for ingredients: go to local farmer’s markets, partake in community sponsored agriculture programs, or shop at places that feature local foods and the staff gets to know you personally (why shop at a place where you can’t get a hug?).

I feel very fortunate to live in the Puget Sound region of Western Washington where local flavor is abundant, and seasonality can be smelled in the air.  Even in the city, it’s difficult to ignore the resinous fragrance of the alders as they break dormancy in early spring.  This is followed by salmon runs, Walla Walla sweet onions, fresh garlic, and a plethora of garden produce.  As the year continues, fall is filled with the candy sweet smell of the katsura trees commonly planted here, and of course, the mushrooms that are the gifts of the autumn rains. 

Late summer is a spectacular time for SLIF.  Vegetable gardens are bursting with the abundant fruition of the year’s toil.  Grilling is a great way of bringing out the best of the season.  The following is a step by step description of how to make one of my favorite meals:  Salmon grilled in grape leaves served with fresh, seasonal vegetables. 

The Primary Ingredients:

   

Fresh wild-caught sockeye salmon and freshly picked zucchini.

I prefer sockeye salmon in this case because it is manageable in size and comparatively economical.  A side of sockeye filet typically weighs about 1.25 lbs and can be found for as little as $7.99 when on sale.  Use what’s available, but avoid farm-raised salmon because it s less tasty, nutritionally inferior, and environmentally damaging.  The portions pictured are about a third of a pound each.

The zucchini I grew this year is the “Piccolo” variety.  It forms striped ovoid fruits just larger than my fist. One makes a two great portion sizes.  Romano or scarlet runner beans are also great summer grilling vegetables because their flat pods are less likely to fall through the grill.

Seasonings and accompaniments:

In addition to the lemon pictured with the salmon, here are small sweet peppers,  fresh basil, ripe yellow tomato, ground Korean chili pepper and olive oil.  Salt will is another important ingredient, but is not pictured.

Preparing the peppers:

    

Roasting peppers on a grill is a very easy process.  I’m a low-tech cook, and strongly prefer charcoal to propane.  It’s a little less convenient, but imparts a depth and fragrance to the food.  Simply place the peppers on a hot area of the grill for a couple of minutes until the skin starts to blacken.  Flip and let the other side char as well.  Move the peppers to the cool part of the grill and cover to let them cook through. Remove them from the grill when they are soft.

The seasonings:

    

Peel and chop the garlic coarsely. Slice the basil to a fine chiffanade.  This is done by stacking leaves on top of one another, rolling the and slicing them into fine ribbons.  Add the garlic, basil, and ground chili to olive oil and mix gently.  This seasoning mix will be used on the salmon and the zucchini.

Gad Zuchs!

    

Slice the zucchini into wedges, salt them lightly and coat with the seasoning mixture.  Place them on the grill and mark them.  Flip and repeat.  As with the peppers, move the zucchini to the cooler periphery of the grill and cover to continue cooking.

Finally, the fish!

My first step with almost any seafood is to squirt it with lemon juice and salt it.  These two ingredients are crucial as they impart brightness and depth to the flavor.  They also preserve freshness and cut down on cootie action.  Salt and acidity are two of the major ingredients in food preservation.

After the lemon and salt, apply the seasoning mixture. 

At this point, the salmon can be cooked by grilling, baking, or broiling to make a satisfying main course to a great meal, but a couple more steps can make it an a wonderfully nuanced SLIF experience.

The Grapes of Wrap!

An often-overlooked summer food that is in abundance throughout the region is the grape leaf.  Grape vines twine their way through many neighborhood gardens.  In very fortunate years, they actually produce edible grapes.  But even in the years with the worst of weather, the vines are bedecked with lush green leaves with great culinary value.  These can be used fresh through spring and summer, or preserved for later use (see the SAVING SUMMER essay for further details).

To continue this recipe, blanch several grape leaves by holding them by their stalks and dipping them in boiling water (with a little salt for good measure).

    

Remove the stalks and flatten out the leaves.  Two good-sized leaves should be enough to cover the salmon.  Place the fish in the center of the leaves and cover thin tomato slices.  In this case, I used yellow tomatoes because great ones were available, but any flavorful garden fresh tomatoes will do.

I sometimes omit the tomato step, but end up regretting it.  The tomato helps to prevent the fish from drying out while cooking.  Good tomatoes also provide the elusive umami taste (see the Umami article for further details).

Wrap the salmon by bringing the ends and forming a tight “envelope.”  The wrapping helps the salmon cook evenly, remain moist, and stay intact on the grill. 

     

Place on the grill and cover.  Check every five minutes or so.  When the salmon is cooked, it should be firm to the touch and the leaves should have slightly charred edges.  Because the fish is wrapped, it can be picked up with tongs or easily scooped up with  a spatula.  Charred grape leaves also impart a subtle yet flavorful smokiness to the salmon.

Serve the salmon, peppers, and zucchini with a little bit of steamed rice.  Any extra basil leaves or lemon wedges make a great edible garnishes that will add flavor as well as visual interest to the plate.

It must be noted that the grape leaf is fully edible and quite tasty. When sliced, the salmon will be pink and opaque and topped with roasted tomato goodness. 

So what’s for dessert?

As long as the grill is hot, why not enjoy another example of the Seasonal, Local, Idiosyncratic, and Fresh, and grill up some ripe summer fruits?  Grilled figs make a great sweet treat to follow the salmon, and are among the simplest things to pepare.

I always admire the mysterious beauty of fresh figs as I slice through them. When properly ripe, they taste of honey and butter.  I had to purchase these figs because unfortunately, my tree is still a toddler and won’t produce fruit until next summer (at the soonest). 

    

To prepare these figs, simply cut them in half and put them on bamboo skewers.  Using two skewers will keep the fruits from rotating, and make them easier to handle.  Place the skewered figs face-down on the grill.

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In just a few minutes, the figs will brown and caramelize.  Simply remove them from the skewers.  They can be served with goat cheese, ice cream, or my favorite way:  Plain. 

Enjoy the bounty of the season.

Saving Summer

These next series of posts are written by guest blogger Thom Lee, who doth protest too much that he's just a regular guy. Now Thom claims he's a Luddite who cannot figure out how to use a blog but I think he's just affecting a learned helplessness in order to get some dumb schmuck (ahem!) to do the dirty work for him. But since he's getting paid no peanuts (at least that would be something!) no nothing for his lovely photos and informative posts, it's the least I can do . He's also got a steel-trap for a mind so enjoy his essays on food preservation!

Late summer is a time of great abundance in the temperate world. Freshness is the flavor of the season and as the full spectrum of the sun is reflected in the rich hues of the garden. A great joy of this time of year is picking fruits and vegetables directly from the yard just before preparing it and tasting the time and effort invested in the throughout the year. 

Unfortunately, this season is short in the Pacific Northwest. To some, it seems that the region goes from spring to fall without a season in between. So it’s important to take advantage of the season by savoring its entire flavor. But in some cases, the season can be extended by preserving the bounty. 

I am heartened to note that many people still engage in traditional food preservation techniques such as canning, pickling, and making jams and other sweet preserves. These methods yield wonderful foods, but the result is a new flavor that is a distortion on the reality of the season, sort of a culinary equivalent of the shadows on the walls of Plato’s cave. But there is one summer flavor that can remain intact throughout the year: The grape leaf. 

Growing grapes in Western Washington is an iffy endeavor. The summers are too short and mild for most of the standard wine grapes, but there are several cultivars of table grapes that occasionally fare well. Most people think of grapes solely for their fruit, but the plant has many other uses. The canes can be used in basketry or burned to make drawing charcoal; seeds can be pressed for their valuable oil; moreover, the leaves are an excellent food source. 

Possibly the most common culinary use of the grape leaf is the Dolma: leaves stuffed with rice, meats and/or various vegetables. In America, these are most often associated with Mediterranean food, but they are common throughout the Arabic world, Eastern Europe, and South Asia. 

Grape leaves, however, can also be used as an edible wrap for other foods. In fact I love using them on the grill as a protective and flavorful cover. The leaf holds the contents together, allowing them to be manipulated on the grill. For example fresh goat cheese can be wrapped in grape leaves then grilled until the leaf starts to char. Scoop it up with some fresh bread, and enjoy with olives and sun-dried tomatoes! Perhaps my favorite way of enjoying them is to wrap them around salmon (see the “Savoring Summer” essay for further details). Now THAT is the taste of summer for me. 

In the summer, grape leaves are abundant and can be blanched and used immediately, but what about the rest of the year? Fortunately, they can be successfully preserved. Commercially, they can be purchased pickled in brine containing salt and citric acid. Of course this can be done at home, but this would cast them as images on the walls of Platos cave. A much easier way is to preserve grape leaves is to blanch and freeze them. They freeze beautifully and retain their fresh summery flavor. Here is the process: 

Start out by collecting grape leaves. If you don’t have your own grape vine, chances are there is one in your neighborhood. People are generally generous with their leaves because they are usually available in abundance.

Select leaves that are fairly round, and not deeply lobed. This will assist greatly in wrapping. The leaf should also be mature and firm and not young and flimsy. Any size leaf will work, but I generally select the larger ones because I’m a big-portions kind of guy. Make sure that the petiole (stalk) is still attached.

Holding the leaf by the petiole, dip it in boiling salt solution (1/4 cup salt to a quart of water or so). The leaf will wilt and relax and turn a deep olive green in about ten seconds. Set these leaves aside in a bowl to cool. If tasted at this stage, they will be tough, salty, and slightly sour.

Remove the petioles (using a knife, kitchen scissors or teeth), and make a stack of ten or so. Fold into thirds and seal in locking freezer bags, making sure to press out any excess air.

Make lots and freeze. They should keep well until a new crop of fresh leaves is available. To use, thaw, rinse, and wrap! Enjoy!

I Can Can!

I refuse to believe it though the signs are there: summer is coming to an end. I've started seeing geese in V formation flying around, there are yellowing leaves on the lawn, kids are going back to school, and just yesterday, I saw the ultimate sign of fall beginning: a Starbucks advertisement for its Pumpkin Spice Latte. Noooooooooooo! I'm not ready!

One of the things I've become interested in as I've learned more about local eating is food preservation. During the bounty of harvest season, canning or preserving what you grow in the summer to eat during the winter months is an ideal way to get around the conundrum of how to keep your food miles low while eating more than cabbage. It also preserves the last vestiges of summer as the inevitable slide into fall begins. (Noooooooooooo!) I didn't grow up with any experience of canning but luckily, local homesteader Thom, who doth protest too much he's just a regular guy, graciously offered to give me a lesson on how to can fresh beans. We used the Romanos and scarlet runner beans he grew in the backyard as well as my measly harvest of green beans and those grown by my friend May's grandma in her backyard. I showed up on a sunny Friday afternoon and the whole process, from picking the beans in the backyard to cooling jars of beans on the counter took about 2 hours. Not bad for something that can last you all year.

In order to can, you will need the following:
1. About a dozen sterilized pickling/canning jars and lids with a rubber gasket to keep out the cootie action. Get jars that are about the size of whatever it is you are canning so you don't have to do a lot of trimming. We used 12 oz straight-sided jars with a twist on lid.
2. A processor, which is really a big metal pot deep enough to immerse the jars into. They usually come with an insert to hold jars upright as you heat them and are convenient for pulling out the really hot finished products. Thom used a bunch of ornamental pebbles at the bottom to disperse the bubbles made by the boiling water instead with the added bonus that he could fit more jars into the processor.
3. 1/2 tsp. of alum powder
4. 5 C white distilled vinegar.
5. 5 C water.
6. 1/2 C canning salt which is pure and has no added agents. Do not use regular salt because it contains iodine and an anti-caking agent which causes the flavor to be off when canning. In a pinch (pun intended), you can also use Kosher salt though it is less dense so you may need to add in a bit more.
7. Various seasonings, which traditionally include dill (Get the whole stalks of dill that are about 5 feet tall with the yellow flowers. They are gorgeous in the jars and make your house smell yummy to boot.) and garlic but can include whatever else the pickler's creativity leads him/her. In our case, we put about 1 clove of garlic and a dill flower and sprig of leaf per jar as well as about a 1/2 tsp black peppercorns, 1/3 tsp mustard seeds, 1 bay leaf, 1/2 a hot sweet pepper, and 1 tsp of salted black beans as the umami maker (more on that in a future post).
8. About 3 lbs of fresh beans for about a dozen jars. They can be all one type or a mix.

To get started, again, make sure that all the jars have been sterilized (putting them through the dishwasher is easiest. If they are new, run them through with just hot water. If used, clean with detergent and then run them through with just hot water again.) Put the lids with the rubber gaskets in some hot water and keep warm so the rubber remains soft. Do not boil.



Wash and trim your beans, chopping any too large to fit into the jars down to size. You want to have about a 1/2" head room in the jars so the beans should be a bit shorter than the jar. Be sure to remove all cats from the counter before you start or your jars may not be vegetarian (cat hair!). We lined up all the beans in the colander facing the same direction to make it easier to put in the jars, so Thom said, but I think it's really because of his OCD.


At this point, you want to make the pickle brine. It is usually 50/50 water and vinegar and in our case, we used 5 C of each and then added 1/2 a cup of canning salt. Add the allum powder at this point in order to preserve the crunchiness of the bean. Bring to a simmer and keep warm on the stove as you fill the jars.



Now is when the fun really begins. Begin by putting a dill flower and a sprig of leaf as well as a clove of garlic (bashed in to let the flavors out) in each jar. Add the peppercorns and mustard seeds and then tilt the jar and start stuffing the beans in. Put enough in so they fill the jar but are not overly crowded. Put the pepper in on the side as well as a bay leaf and then sprinkle the black beans on top. If you prefer more sweetness in your pickling, you can add in spices like allspice or cloves.



Once you've got your beans and spices in, you are ready to add the brine. Pour the brine from the stovetop into a measuring cup for easier pouring and then fill the jars up, leaving about a 1/2" head space in the jars. Then tighten on the warmed caps and deposit the jars into the processor and bring the water to a boil for about ten minutes.



After ten minutes, lift the jars out and set them on the counter to cool. The top of the lids will be convex and as they cool, will emit a popping sound and the lids will flatten out. The beans will be floating towards the top of the jar and have turned a different shade of green. As they marinate in the brine, they will begin to settle down in the jars. For optimal flavor, let them sit in their own juices for at least 2 weeks.



I can't wait to try them! These jars are definitely not going to last until winter but now that I know how straightforward canning can be, next summer I'm going to plant more beans with the hopes of being able to have at least one jar left by wintertime.

Sushirrito: Fusion Heaven

One of the reasons I love the Bay Area, besides getting to spend time with the Violent Femmes, of course, is the great eating down there. This time around was no exception and the newest thing to cross my path was not sushi, not a burrito, but their love child, the sushirrito.



"A fresh way to roll" indeed are these burrito-sized nori rolls, filled with sustainably sourced fresh fish, organic rice, and plenty of freshy, tasty veggies. "El Tigre" (pictured above) is Ahi Tuna along with julienned carrots, radish, cucumber, cabbage, beets, with a spicy honey mustard ringing in at $10.50



The "Casanova" is steelhead salmon with arugula, radish, tomatillo salsa, avocado, and a white soy ponzu sauce for $9.50.

Surprisingly substantial, these giant rolls had two highly trained professional eaters crying uncle at the end. We were defeated by some giant sushi rolls.

But what forces would bring about such a thing as a sushirrito? And is something like this really greater than the sum of its parts or just a half-imitation of neither? In order to better understand the roots of fusion, I had my co-worker Thom, who doth protest too much he's just an ordinary guy, put "contemporary cuisine into the context of the artistic and cultural movements of the 20th century: Modernism, and Postmodernism:"

Modernism is typically understood as an intentional break from the traditional and the classical. In culinary terms, this equates to Nouvelle Cuisine with its departure from so-called traditional dishes and techniques. Auguste Escoffier is attributed to be among the early pioneers in this innovation, but the ever-modern Nouvelle broke even further from his sensibilities with its emphasis on delicacy, presentation and lightness. The style features fresh, seasonal ingredients, small portions with visually exquisite presentation. Sauces are reduced rather than thickened with roux. Elements are chosen for the inherent qualities they embody, and meals are elaborate compositions of sequential courses. To experience an excellent example of this kind of food one could have a meal at Seattle’s “Mistral” restaurant. For those who like to pay less and can tolerate images of misogyny and brutality, nouvelle cuisine also plays a key role in the film “American Psycho.”


Postmodernism, on the other hand, emphasizes self-conscious appropriation of other styles, collaging known elements in unusual contexts, and a general distrust of the canonical practices of the past. Postmodernism can also incorporate the concentration of modernist ideals. One culinary example of Postmodernism is what is known as Fusion. In this style of cuisine, recognizable elements from disparate cultures are brought together in a juxtaposition of flavors and forms. An early expression of this phenomenon in Seattle is the “pan-Asian” restaurant “Wild Ginger.” Recognizable elements from many Asian cultures are served at the same table. As the movement continues, the cultural references are found in the same dish and more and more diverse combinations are being made. I’ve often been known to be skeptical of fusion food describing the practices as “bringing the food of two cultures together and watering it down to suit an American taste.” But, happily, I have been proven wrong many times....

The fusion impulse has taken two distinct paths, which I will label “organic” or “natural” fusion and “contrived” or “artistic” fusion. The terms “organic” and “contrived” have other connotations, so I’ll use the alternate terms.

In natural fusion, culturally specific dishes, techniques, and sensibilities are transported to new geographies and adopt local ingredients. A classic example of this is the California Roll. In the 1960’s, Ichiro Mashita, a Japanese sushi chef in Los Angeles was unable to obtain toro (fatty tuna). He found that a satisfying texture could be achieved using avocado (I don’t know how the fake crab got in there). Another example is Hawaii’s Spam Musubi, with it’s odd (yet palatable) insertion of American industrial canned meat into a roll of rice and seaweed. By contrast, artistic fusion is the intentional juxtaposition of disparate food cultures.


So sushirrito is the artistic fusion of one inventive man looking to marry two pretty distinctive food cultures. A sushi roll of such gigantic proportions would probably cause most Japanese people to recoil in disgust and there's not much Mexican flavoring to these big wraps. However, if one comes to them with neither expectation or preconception of something needing to be Japanese nor Mexican, the sushirrito as its own invention is a pretty tasty and healthy creation.

I do have to relay one more Thomism, which is related to my observation that when judging any restaurant, the proof is in the patrons. Who shows up to eat what you've envisioned is the ultimate testimony to whether your food really accomplishes what it means to. Here in Seattle, we find lots of mixed couples patronizing said fusion restaurants and Thom observes that "mixed couples are a natural fusion unto themselves (could these people’s children be the human equivalent of California rolls . . . imagine basinets filled with Spam musubi!) And now we can add to that list, the sushirrito!

I, for one, am a fan and hope that a branch moves up here to Seattle sometime soon.

Wonton Gluttony

Almost 5 years ago, when food blogs were still kind of newish, I had the idea that I would start one with some friends called "Wonton Gluttony." Our "slant" (since we were all Asian Americans) was that all the contributors would learn to cook traditional dishes from his/her ethnic heritage and post photos, recipes, and stories on the site. Besides learning to make some good food, we would also get a chance to reconnect with our family members and our heritage on a gut level (pun intended). I even made a graphic for this supposed blog in my computer art class but I don't think I managed to save it anywhere still accessible. Alas, this venture did not happen, mostly due to inertia and the fact that my father cannot wait for me to cook anything. Instead, he has to have all the stuff bought, prepped, and almost completely cooked by the time I get to his house. This makes it hard to figure out precisely what he did since he usually doesn't know exactly what cut of meat he's using or how much of it he used. Nor does he keep track of precisely how much of an ingredient he used to marinate or cook things so that can also make replicating his recipes hard. Insisting that he allow me to shop, watch him prep, and cook the whole thing, would probably be too torturous for all involved so thus, Wonton Gluttony lives still only in my mind.

Nonetheless, I have been cooking in the last 5 years, just not learning much about what my Dad cooks since I have him to do that, and with all the summer veg in farmer's markets and and at the farm needing to be eaten, I've gotten to try out some new dishes. The most recent one was inspired by the desire to cook the leeks that I'd planted last fall. In looking around for a recipe that uses them, I came across this one for ratatouille, which is perfect since I had been thinking about this dish ever since watching Disney's Ratatouille on the plane home from Paris last winter.



Ratatouille (adapted from Eating Well)

4 Tb olive oil
2 C sliced leeks or young onions
1/2 C white wine
1 tsp salt and pepper
1 15 oz can of Cananelli beans
2 large tomatoes, sliced 1/4" thick
1 zucchini, sliced 1/4" thick
1 small eggplant, sliced 1/4" thick
1/4 C shredded Parmesan
1 tsp dried summer herbs (marjoram, thyme, oregano) or 1 Tb fresh

Preheat over to 425 degrees. Sautee leeks (and onions if using) in 2 Tb of olive oil on medium heat and cover. After about 5-7 minutes, when leeks are soft and wilted, add in the white wine and salt and pepper and cook a minute more until liquid has mostly been cooked away.

Put the leek mixture in a 11X7 baking dish and top with the drained, cooked Canellini beans. This is optional but I found the beans gave the dish some heartiness and nice flavor.

Layer the tomatoes, eggplants, and zucchini over the top of the leek and bean mixture, overlapping each of the slices. When done, drizzle olive oil over the top and then sprinkle salt and pepper over the top.




Put the dish into the oven and bake for about an hour and 15 minutes at 425F. At the hour mark, sprinkle the Parmesan and then herbs over the top. It's a gorgeous dish and easy, healthy, and delicious.

Do Not Despise the Small Things

I just finished Barbara Kingsolver's book "Animal, Vegetable, Miracle," which chronicles a year in her and her family's life of eating locally by growing most of their own food, sourcing other things as locally as possible, and learning to live without everything else. Suffice it to say, they made it through the year with aplomb and discovered that this way of living had become the new normal; there was no going back. Kingsolver concludes with a quote that really struck me. On p. 346 of the book, she writes:

It's the worst of bad manners--and self-protection, I think, in a nervously cynical society--to ridicule the small gesture. These earnest efforts might just get us past the train-wreck of the daily news, or the anguish of standing behind a child, looking with her at the road ahead, searching out redemption where we can find it: recycling or carpooling or growing a garden or saving a species or something. Small, stepwise changes in personal habits aren't trivial. Ultimately they will, or won't, add up to having been the thing that mattered.

So much of what our society values involves the big gestures: asking someone to marry you on the Jumbotron at a ballpark, winning American Idol, "royal hunting," celebrity tabloids and notoriety, getting onto Oprah (that that's defunct for now). Even philanthropy has to be big: the Gates Foundation with their billions of dollars or the 10 year plan to end homelessness in King County; these are the things that matter. Donating $10 each month to your local charity pales in comparison. There isn't a lot of respect for the small things. But when it comes down to it, the question, as Kingsolver puts it, is "How do you encourage people to keep their hope but not their complacency?" And in this case, as with many things, it's not despising the small things in order to keep hope alive: grow some herbs or a kitchen garden, carpool or ride the bus once or twice a week, buy organic if possible, visit the local farmer's market, say "hi" to your neighbor, walk up the stairs instead of taking the elevator, turn off the TV during dinner. It doesn't seem like much but as Helen Keller puts it:

The world is moved along, not only by the mighty shoves of its heroes, but also by the aggregate of tiny pushes of each honest worker.