A couple of weeks ago, Chris Crawford, a former restaurant chef who prefers to be called a cook, gave me a tour of the place that she refers to as her "factory."The description is technically true, but it's also funny, considering that it's a single room in which Crawford usually works alone. The eleven-hundred-square-foot space, situated on a high floor of a building in the Brooklyn Navy Yard, is equipped with an induction burner, a microscope, and a big sink, plus bouquets of lemon verbena and whole persimmons hanging from the ceiling to dry.
About half the room is occupied by tall shelving units, lined with hundreds of large plastic pails. Crawford, a petite forty-one-year-old with elfin features, is the founder and the sole full-time employee of a company called Tart Vinegar. She has made a name for herself selling vinegar fermented from a surprising array of ingredients: celery, lavender, rose with sour cherry and Concord grape (a variety she markets as True Romance). Prying off the lid of one bucket, and then another, she dipped in a ladle, bringing the vinegar to her lips as if it were soup, and encouraged me to do the same.
Bu hikaye The New Yorker dergisinin February 12 -19, 2024 (Double Issue) sayısından alınmıştır.
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Bu hikaye The New Yorker dergisinin February 12 -19, 2024 (Double Issue) sayısından alınmıştır.
Start your 7-day Magzter GOLD free trial to access thousands of curated premium stories, and 9,000+ magazines and newspapers.
Already a subscriber? Giriş Yap
YULE RULES
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NEW CHAPTER
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HEAVY SNOW HAN KANG
Kyungha-ya. That was the entirety of Inseon’s message: my name.
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Reckoning with Donald Trump's return to power.
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Whether you’re horrifying your teen with nauseating sex-ed analogies or watching TikToks while your toddler eats a bagel from the subway floor, face it: you’re flailing in the vast chasm of your child’s relentless needs.
COLOR INSTINCT
Jadé Fadojutimi, a British painter, sees the world through a prism.
THE FAMILY PLAN
The pro-life movement’ new playbook.
President for Sale - A survey of today's political ads.
On a mid-October Sunday not long ago sun high, wind cool-I was in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, for a book festival, and I took a stroll. There were few people on the streets-like the population of a lot of capital cities, Harrisburg's swells on weekdays with lawyers and lobbyists and legislative staffers, and dwindles on the weekends. But, on the façades of small businesses and in the doorways of private homes, I could see evidence of political activity. Across from the sparkling Susquehanna River, there was a row of Democratic lawn signs: Malcolm Kenyatta for auditor general, Bob Casey for U.S. Senate, and, most important, in white letters atop a periwinkle not unlike that of the sky, Kamala Harris for President.
