Earning the Bicycle Cake

          When my son, Ela, was four years old, I bought him an old bicycle. It didn't have training wheels because I had the notion that he would learn better without that crutch. I taught him to ride a bicycle the way my father had taught me: by holding onto the back of the seat as he wobbled into balance. Like my father, I held onto the bicycle, then ran alongside, letting go, yelling encouragement, then, just before Ela went over, catching hold again, steadying the balance. The only places to ride a bicycle at our mountain home were rough paths and a hilly gravel driveway, but Ela took to bicycles so easily I wondered if something in a past life had prepared him.

          Ela got a real bicycle, not just a learner's clunker, for his ninth birthday. By that time we were living on a different mountain, where I live still and where we had a paved road within reasonable distance. I, too, bought a bicycle that year. One day Ela and I decided to ride our bicycles the two miles up that paved road to the top of the mountain and six miles over the other side to visit his father and stepmother.

          It's a steep road. I was on an old-fashioned, three-gear bicycle. Ela's bike was a BMX, without gears. Soon enough my legs gave out. My bicycle slowed to a stop, and I started walking, pushing my bike. Ela was still pedaling. The day was hot, but the road was shaded, and we had started early. Ela was strong and cocky. Walking alongside him, amused by his persistence and impressed by his stamina and strength, I said, "I bet you can't ride to the top without stopping." I didn't think he could, but I thought the challenge would be good for him. I have to admit I was that kind of parent. When Ela climbed a tree and called, "Mom! Look where I am," I would say, "Wow. That's great. Can you go any higher?" Usually he did. Now he answered my challenge without hesitation.

          "I'll bet I can," he said pushing onward.

         "I'll bet you a cake you can't," I said. "If you get to the top of the road without stopping, I'll make you a cake from that new recipe I just got."

          At that, Ela gave a few extra hard pushes to scoot a few feet ahead of me.

         The bet was on. It was slow going. I was walking and pushing my bicycle at the same rate that Ela, one hard push at a time, was riding his. Every once in a while I egged him on with a goading remark.

         Ela never wavered. Steadily, slowly, with tough single-mindedness, he pushed his way two miles up the mountain without stopping. At the top, he was exultant. He let his bicycle topple and hopped off with a surprisingly energetic jig. He had won his cake.

          I made the cake for him the next day. It was a good cake, made with yogurt, so it was very light. It became our favorite birthday cake. I don't know what it was originally called, but in our family it has always been known as the bicycle cake.

Next week: "A Boiled Egg in the Wilderness"
Recipe for this post: Bicycle cake



BICYCLE CAKE
10-12 servings

Ingredients
3/4 cup butter
1 cup warmed honey
3 eggs
1 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
3 cups whole wheat pastry flour
1 cup yogurt
1 teaspoon vanilla
Preparation
Butter and flour 2 8-inch layer-cake pans. Preheat the oven to 375º.



To make
Cream the butter thoroughly. Add the honey and beat till fluffy. Add the eggs one at a time, beating

well after each addition. Sift together the soda and flour and add them to the butter mixture alternately with the yogurt, beginning and ending with the dry ingredients. Mix gently Do not overmix. It's easy for this cake to lose its fluff. Fold the vanilla carefully into the batter. Pour the batter into the prepared cake pans and bake at 375º until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean, 15-20 minutes. Cool five minutes and invert. Ice as you wish.

Down South, Naturally

          After selling hand-sewn dolls and woven bags at the Oregon Country Fair for years, I decided a food booth might make more money. I enjoyed cooking, and I could draw on my Southern heritage to offer the Country Fair a unique dinner of black-eyed peas, cornbread, and coleslaw. Because I didn't eat meat, I would make vegetarian beans, and in contradiction to my theme but in keeping with a Country Fair spirit, I would offer tofu cheesecake for dessert.

Tofu cheesecake, with apples

I would call the booth Down South, Naturally. My friend Andy agreed to be my partner.

          Full of naive enthusiasm, we started trying out recipes and adjusting proportions for quantity cooking and easy preparation. We gathered picnic eating ware; large pots for the beans; mixing bowls for the slaw, cornbread, and cheesecake; baking pans for consecutive batches of cornbread: one in the oven, one on the counter, and one in the making. We scrounged a propane range with four burners and an oven, coolers with ice, and a sink with separate washtubs for washing, rinsing, and sterilizing dishes. We built a booth and equipped it suitably to meet health code for a temporary restaurant.

          Three days before the fair, I met Andy in the house of a mutual friend who generously gave up her kitchen for our preparations. We soaked and cooked the black-eyed peas. We made four cheesecakes (all we could fit in the coolers). We shredded cabbage and grated carrots and made lemon-yogurt dressing. We made ready-mix packets of measured dry ingredients for the cornbread. We packaged bottles of oil, cartons of eggs, and jars of honey for mixing into those dry ingredients. The Thursday before the fair, in a nightmare of logistics, we transported everything to the booth. We worked ourselves to the bone even before the fair opened.

         As it turned out, black-eyed peas and cornbread were not a Country Fair favorite. Down South, Naturally didn't make us rich, but we did well enough, and we had a good time. A few people asked how we could flavor our black-eyed peas without ham, but at that time most Country Fair goers were more attuned to tofu cheesecake than to meat. Our booth was in a good location, directly across from the Main Stage but well off the main thoroughfare. During slow hours, we could watch the distant entertainment on the stage. Our best business move was to stay open after the Midnight Circus. We did a good business then because we were so close to the stage and maybe mostly because so few food booths were open at that hour.

          Andy and I kept Down South, Naturally for three years, but after that the fun was wearing thin and the work growing tedious for the monetary payback. We closed shop. Andy wandered to California. I turned increasingly to teaching and writing. Neither of us continued in the restaurant business. I didn't go to the Country Fair again until my son and daughter-in-law began performing there and I could be of help to them.  Now when I go to the Country Fair, I make a point to wander past the old booth for Down South, Naturally, now transformed into an Orange Julius and cookies booth. I stand on the other side of the counter where I had once waited on customers and give my order. I watch the young people squeezing oranges, pulling cookies from the oven, washing pans—having a ball. They are reincarnations of Andy and Diana, though they have no idea that I have a history with them, that they're in my booth, that I, too, at one time, was a restaurateur.

Next week: "Earning the Bicycle Cake"
Recipes from this post:
     Black-eyed peas
     Down South coleslaw
     Oregon Country Fair cornbread
     Tofu cheesecake


BLACK-EYED PEAS

Ingredients
3 cups black-eyed peas
Water or vegetable broth to cover
2 tablespoons olive oil or butter
2 onions
3-4 cloves garlic, crushed
1/4 ham hock, quartered (optional)
1 potato
1 red bell pepper
1/2 cup V-8 juice
1/2 can tomato paste
2 bay leaves
1/2 tablespoon cumin
1 teaspoon salt
Freshly ground black pepper

Preparation
Soak black-eyed peas in water at least 2 hours. Drain. Peel and cut potato into chunks. Cut red bell pepper into pieces. Crush garlic. Slice onions.
To make
Saute onions and garlic in olive oil or butter in a large pot. Add black-eyed peas along with water or broth (not the water the beans soaked in), V-8 juice, tomato paste, herbs, and salt. Add ham hock, if using. Cook about 1 hour, then add potato chunks. Readjust seasonings and add freshly ground black pepper to taste. When black-eyed peas are done, let the soup sit on the stove, staying warm and deepening its blended flavors. This is a better-the-next-day dish.

DOWN SOUTH COLE SLAW

Ingredients
1 large head green cabbage
2-3 carrots
1 apple
Preparation
Shred, thickly slice, or grate the cabbage. (I prefer it grated, though it's more trouble.) Grate the carrots and the apple. Mix all together. Pour dressing over the salad and toss well.



The dressing
Ingredients
1/2 cup low-fat yogurt
1/2 cup mayonnaise
Juice of 1/2 lemon
1 teaspoon caraway seeds
Salt and pepper to taste..
To make
Mix all ingredients together and whisk well.



OREGON COUNTRY FAIR CORNBREAD

serves 9

Ingredients
1 cup cornmeal
1/3 cup soy flour
1/4 cup whole wheat flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
2 1/2 tablespoons powdered milk
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1 egg
1 cup milk
3 tablespoons honey
3 tablespoons oil
Preparation
Butter and flour an 8-inch square pan. Preheat oven to 375º.
To make
Mix dry ingredients together. Beat egg and add milk, honey, and oil. Add wet ingredients to dry ingredients all at once and mix only until barely blended. Lumps are okay. Pour into prepared pan and bake at 375º for 30 minutes. Serve piping hot.
Note: This can be made into a ready-mix cornbread by using an extra 1/4 cup powdered milk, mixing all dry ingredients together, and sealing them in a zip-lock bag. When you're ready to make the cornbread, substitute 1 cup water for the 1 cup milk. Beat together the wet ingredients, and proceed as above.



TOFU CHEESECAKE

The filling
Ingredients
3 cups mashed tofu
1 cup honey
1/4 cup oil
1/4 cup lemon juice
1 teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon vanilla extract
Preparation
Mash the tofu well to make 3 cups. Blend everything exceedingly well. This works best in a blender, though it can be done with hand implements. The texture will just be a little rougher if you don't have a blender.

The crust
Ingredients
1 1/2 cups graham cracker crumbs
1/4-1/2 cup powdered sugar
6 tablespoons melted butter
1 teaspoon cinnamon
Preparation
Crush the graham crackers with a rolling pin between two pieces of waxed paper if you don't use ready-crumbled crumbs. Crush them fine. Melt the butter.
To make
Stir all ingredients together. Press into a 9-inch pie pan, reserving some crumbs for the top of the pie.

The cheesecake itself
Ingredients
Tofu filling
Graham cracker crust
Fresh fruit
Preparation
Preheat the oven to 350º.
To make
Spoon the filling into the unbaked pie crust and bake at 350º for 1 hour. Turn off the oven and leave the cheesecake in the oven for another hour. Decorate with fresh fruit.

Waiting Tables at Johannan's

          In 2001 Ph.D-wealthy Barbara Ehrenreich descended into the world of the common laborer to research her book, Nickel and Dimed. Expecting to find the life perfectly awful, that's what she found. I have also worked as a common laborer, only my jobs were not for research but for money, and my conclusions were different from hers. Like her, I have been a waitress and a housecleaner. I've also been a cashier, a secretary, a tomato picker, and a tree planter. Like Ehrenreich, I learned something from each job, but for me the lessons were not social theories but life lessons.

          The summer after my freshman year at college, needing money for a semester in France the following spring (I wouldn't be able to go if I didn't have it), I looked around for the quickest way to make the most money and decided to wait tables. I easily secured a job at Johannan's, a fancy restaurant in Atlanta, even though, at that time, a college girl who waited tables was an anomaly among career waitresses. My coworkers were the kind of tough women who wait tables in fictional truck stops or younger women who would soon be like them. In the end, though, my difference didn't matter. My coworkers cared only that I did my job well and got along well. I respected them, learned from them, and passed muster.

          Because I like good food, I enjoyed helping create a pleasant dining experience for my customers. I smiled at them and filled their orders accurately with all the exceptions, substitutions, and special treatment they requested. I learned to carry six plates in two hands, to keep an eye on diners who were almost finished while I was taking orders from new customers, to pacify unhappy customers, serve drinks from the bar, and bus tables quickly. No matter how busy the dining room or how tense the work, my smile was quick and sincere because I enjoyed what I was doing. My customers responded in kind. They said, curiously, "You're not really a waitress. What are you doing here?" When I told them, they would say, "Well, good luck. You have a beautiful smile." They left good tips.

        Every night when I came home, dog tired but with heavy apron pockets, I sat at the sunporch table, took my shoes off, and tossed the night's take onto the table. Straightening the crumpled bills, I counted my money, gloating like a miser at each night's well earned take. The job was good, and the money was good. And the next spring, the rewards were high.

        If I were writing Nickel and Dimed, I would report differently from Ehrenreich. Granted, I was still living with my parents, so I was spared a worker's usual monetary pressures. But I think the point is more that the job itself was satisfying to me. I returned to it twice later in my life, once at an upscale pizza restaurant near Emory University, in Atlanta, and again at a casino restaurant on Lake Tahoe. In the first, I enjoyed the fast-paced demanding work environment and the vast range of people who eat pizzas, from auto mechanics to university professors to hair dressers. The Lake Tahoe job was difficult because I was working the midnight shift and because I didn't enjoy the casino atmosphere, but I liked serving the entertainers who arrived after their shows (B. B. King, most notably). Every day, when I got off work at 7:00 a.m., I drove immediately to a small bay on the lake to swim in the beautiful blue water of Lake Tahoe and doze for a while among the warm white rocks of the shore.

          I don't doubt that Barbara Ehrenreich's experiences were as she told them, but mine were different and perhaps just as noteworthy. Waiting tables is not always a terrible job.

Next week: "Down South, Naturally"

Cheese-apples Make Me a Winner (Once)

        When I was a junior at Sandy Springs High School, in Sandy Springs, Georgia, I saw a notice about a scholarship contest sponsored by the Pyrofax Gas Company: "Bake your way to a BA." There were two requirements: write an essay on "Why I Want to Go to College" and submit a recipe. The rules specified that the recipe should be easy. I needed a scholarship. I was a good writer, and my mother's deep-dish apple pie was really easy, so I entered the contest.

          I wasn't surprised when I won the essay part, but I was chagrinned to realize that I hadn't thought about the second step in the contest: a bake-off among contestants. I would now have to actually bake the pie. Nationwide, 864 contestants would compete in 36 preliminary cook-offs. Mine would be in Moultrie, Georgia, in two weeks.

          Could I learn to bake a pie in two weeks? Could I learn to cook with gas in two weeks? My family only had an electric oven, so I asked the Pyrofax Gas Company in Sandy Springs if I could use their oven to practice. They were glad to help, so every day after school I baked an apple pie at the Pyrofax Gas Company. The employees reaped the benefits in practice pies. So did my family. So did I, for in two weeks' time I felt ready.

          Moultrie is a small town in South Georgia. The Pyrofax Baking Contest was the biggest thing happening there that fall. I felt confident and well practiced as I peeled and cored my apples, cut in the butter and flour, added the sugar, mixed in the milk, spread the apples and crumb top in the pan, and put the pie in the gas oven. While it was baking, I rolled little bits of cheddar cheese into cheese apples, finishing each one with a blush of red food coloring and a sprig of mint for a stem. These little delicacies went on the hot apple pie when it came from the oven.

          The judges, all men, were having a ball. They loved my pie, but to tell the truth, although it is a very good deep-dish apple pie, it isn't that special. I think it was the cheese-apples that made the difference—oh, and the poem, an old saying I wrote on a note next to my entry: "Apple pie without the cheese/Is like a hug without the squeeze." When the master of ceremonies announced me as the winner, he read the poem to the audience. As he handed me my silver bowl, he gave me a hug—with the squeeze—and a big sleazy grin.

          But now I would have to bake my apple pie again, this time in Raleigh, North Carolina, one of three sites for the final cook-offs. This was not Moultrie any more! These kids were serious cooks. Their recipes were intimidating: red velvet cake, colonial innkeeper's nut pie, braided cheese bread, Amberitzy pie, blackberry jam cake. "Deep-dish apple pie" sounded as hick as Moultrie, Georgia, and I already felt outclassed, but I baked my pie, which was as good as it ever was, and used the cheese-apples and the poem, but these judges weren't seduced by cleverness. They were looking for good baking. Deep-dish apple pie was no match for cheesecake de luxe, baked by Anne Louise Alexick, from Lynchburg, Virginia, who took home the scholarship.

I am on the left, at the Raleigh competition.

          What I took home was a transistor radio, the compensation prize and a novelty item at the time. The radio has long since been displaced, but I still have the silver bowl I won in Moultrie, engraved withy my name and "1962 Pyrofax Baking Contest." I also have a recipe book titled "The Prize-winning Recipes from the Pyrofax Teen-age Baking Contest," with my name and recipe in the chapter called "Raleigh Grand Finals." So if anyone ever questions my abilities as a cook, I have a few proofs. It was all a long time ago, but if anyone wants further proof, I can still mix up a good deep-dish apple pie with cheese-apples—and a poem.

Next week: "Waiting Tables at Johannan's"
Recipes from this post:
        Deep-dish apple pie
        Cheesecake de Luxe

DEEP-DISH APPLE PIE
Here is the recipe exactly as it appears in the Pyrofax Baking Contest cookbook.

1/3 cup sugar
7-9 apples, peeled and quartered
3/4 cup sugar
1 cup flour
1/2 cup margarine
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon nutmeg

Sprinkle 1/3 cup sugar over apples in greased baking dish. Combine 3/4 cup sugar with remaining ingredients; mix to consistency of fine crumbs. Cover apples completely. Bake at 45º 10 minutes. Lower heat to 400º, bake 20 minutes longer. Serve with Cheese-Apples.

CHEESE-APPLES: Soften sharp cheddar cheese; roll into small balls. Stick clove in bottom and mint leaf in top.

CHEESECAKE DE LUXE
This is the winning recipe, by Anne Louise Alexick, from Lynchburg, Virginia. It's easy to see why the deep-dish apple pie was no competition. [The photos below were of the recipe baked in a 6-inch pan because I didn't have a 7-inch springform pan. I tried to adjust the recipe mathematically to fit the smaller pan, but it seemed overfull. The recipe in the right-size pan shouldn't crack so badly. This one was still good.]

Ingredients
1 2/3 cups fine graham crackers
1/4 cup softened bvutter
1 1/2 cups sugar, divided
1 1/2 pounds cream cheese
1 tablespoon flour
1 lemon, grated peel
1/2 orange, grated peel
1/2 teaspoon salt
4 eggs
2 tablespoons heavy cream


Preparation

Make graham cracker crumbs if necessary. Zest or grate the lemon and orange. Preheat oven to 375º.
To make
Blend graham cracker crumbs, softened butter, and 1/4 cup of the sugar. Press crumbs firmly on bottom and sides of a 7-inch springform pan to 1/8-inch thickness. Bake at 375 º 8 minutes. Cool. Combine cream cheese, remaining sugar, flour, grated peels, and salt. Mix in eggs, 1 at a time, beating well after each addition. Stir in cream. Turn into springform pan with baked crust. Bake at 500º 10 minutes. Reduce heat to 200º and bake 1 1/4 hours longer. Cool. (Cake will shrink as it cools.)

identifying People by Food (continued)

          Two aromas conjure my father's cooking, a phrase that sits strangely on my tongue

because he only cooked two things: mackerel and steak. Either one, especially the steak, was a rarity on the table and sign of a special dinner for one reason or another, often a reason the children knew nothing about. My father prepared the steak and stuck it in the oven, to be broiled with onions and served with French bread and Worchestershire sauce, a condiment with a powerful transmogrifying effect on me even now. The mackerel was also broiled, with lemon and onions. While my father took care of the fish, my mother fried the hushpuppies, filling the kitchen with the rich odors of hot oil and frying cornbread, underneath which floated the delicate aroma of fresh fish in the oven.

          When I was growing up, I was told that hushpuppies were named because the odor of frying fish made the dogs whine and beg. The cook would throw some fried cornbread at the dogs, saying, "Hush, puppy." That's what I was told, anyway.

          Artichokes, strangely enough return me to my days as a student at Cambridge University, not because they were ever served in the college's bland-food dining hall, but because a friend once served them to me in his flat. I had never seen artichokes before. It was he who taught me how to peel back each petal, dip its end into the dressing, and pull it through my teeth to scrape off the edible pulp, then to scoop the thistle fluff from the top with my spoon, exposing the delectable heart. Though I can't remember his name or anything else about him, he secured a place in my memories through the taste of artichokes.

         The food with the most evocative power for me is probably pancakes. Before my son was born, when his father and I were living on a commune in the Santa Cruz Mountains, Dan would often get a hankering for pancakes

late at night. So I cooked pancakes. I could make pancakes out of anything. I became famous for my pancakes. In the commune I was known as the Pancake Queen. I made pancakes for Dan night after night. Then it became one of those things. You know. That's why, now, whenever I make pancakes, they have a wry taste, no matter what the flour.

Next week: Cheese-apples Make Me a Winner (Once)

Recipe from this post:

     Broiled steak

     Broiled mackerel

     Hushpuppies

     Pancakes

BROILED STEAK

Serves: an indeterminate number

My father is 97 years old. [He passed away two years later.] These are the instructions he gives today for broiling steak a la Ken Coogle: "Start with a good piece of meat. Rub it with vegetable oil. Slice onions over it. Broil it till it is done. Chop a clove of garlic and put it with butter in the slices of French bread cut to but not through the bottom. Heat the bread in the oven."

BROILED MACKEREL

(The number of servings depends on the size of the fish.)

Ingredients

Mackerel fillet

Vegetable oil

Lemon

Onions

To make

Rub the mackerel with the vegetable oil. Slice onions over it. Squeeze a lemon over it. Broil till cooked, says my father.

HUSHPUPPIES

makes maybe 15-20 hushpuppies. 

Ingredients

Vegetable oil for frying

1 1/2 cups self-rising cornmeal mix (see below)

3/4 cup self-rising flour

1 1/2 tablespoons sugar

1 large egg, lightly beaten

1 1/4 cups buttermilk

Preparation

Pour 3 inches of oil into a large pot. Heat to 375º.

To make

Combine cornmeal, flour, and sugar, then add the egg and buttermilk. Stir until just moistened. Let stand 10 minutes. Drop by rounded tablespoons into hot oil. Fry in batches to maintain oil temperature. Drain on brown paper bags.

Self-rising cornmeal

Makes: 1 cup

Ingredients

1 tablespoon baking powder

1/2 teaspoon salt

3/4 cup + 3 tablespoons cornmeal

To make

Combine all ingredients.

PANCAKES

Ingredients

          The basic rule for pancakes is 1/2 cup liquid for every cup of flour, plus at least one egg. Use baking soda (1/2 teaspoon) with sour liquids (buttermilk, yogurt, fruit juices, etc.) in addition to the baking powder (1 teaspoon) used when the liquid is not sour (usually milk). Add 1/2 teaspoon salt. Sweeten to taste with sugar or honey. Add 2-4 teaspoons oil. The batter should be the consistency of thick cream. Add anything else that suits your fancy: cut-up fruit, cottage cheese, ricotta cheese, dried fruits, spices, etc. Experiment with different kinds and combinations of flour, with various liquids (milk, sour milk, buttermilk, yogurt, fruit juice, coffee, flavored yogurts), and with other ingredients (nuts and seeds, peanut butter, other nut butters, maple syrup, honey). The wonderful thing about pancakes is that they are so versatile and so forgivable. They respond well to experimentation. Just watch the consistency of the batter, and keep cut-up fruit, nuts, raisins etc., small.

To make

Someone once told me that he never could make good pancakes because he couldn't get them perfectly round. My pancakes are always only approximately round. They have little bulges here and there, and sometimes they straighten out their edges to make room for each other. I don't consider roundness a criterion for a good pancake. They are beautiful if they are golden brown, slightly mottled, and cooked through without getting hard, and they are good if they taste good.

          Mix all the dry ingredients together. If you're using unbleached white flour or whole wheat pastry four, it's good to sift the dry ingredients, but heavier flours sift out the good brans. Beat the wet ingredients together (eggs, liquid, oil). Pour the wet ingredients into the dry and mix together with a few rapid strokes. Do not overmix! Lumps are fine. Add nuts, fruits, and other extras at this point.

          Oil the griddle or skillet and heat well, to the point that water flicked onto the griddle jumps and hisses. With a 1/4 cup measuring cup or a ladle, pour circles (more or less) of batter onto the griddle. Don't overcrowd the cooking surface, and don't use the whole 1/4 cup if there isn't room on the griddle for large pancakes. Let the pancakes cook until bubbles appear on the tops and the surfaces look dry. Then loosen the pancake with a spatula and flip it neatly to cook on the other side. If the pancake is ready to flip, it will slide easily off the griddle onto the spatula. If the griddle is too hot, the pancake will also stick (and burn). If the griddle isn't hot enough, the pancake will cook but never brown and will taste soggy. The trick is to cook the pancake through without hardening it. Cut into the first one to see if it has cooked in the middle before you flip it. That'll be your gauge for temperature. Continue to cook the pancakes until brown on the second side. This won't take as long as cooking the first side, and the bottom side won't be as pretty, either. Serve the pancakes top side up with toppings of your choice. Some ideas follow.

Suggested toppings

Buckwheat pancakes

Applesause and plain yogurt, with or without honey or maple syrup

Real maple syrup
Good honey

Fresh fruit of the season

A berry sauce (berries sweetened with sugar and cooked to thicken a bit)

Sweetened ricotta cheese whipped with butter or cream cheese

Kefir, yogurt, etc.