On Monday night, 75 people piled into a Kansas City, Mo., church to catch a free screening of "Mad City Chickens," a documentary from Tarazod Films that chronicles the resurgence of the urban chicken.
Unfortunately, like many U.S. cities, Kansas City makes it nearly impossible to have even just a few hens in the backyard. Chickens are only considered legal residents if their coop is 100 feet from the nearest home or business; they're certainly not allowed to roam. But the more people focus on eating locally, the more chickens pop up in backyards all over the United States (and Kansas City for that matter), legal or not.
Up until a few years ago, Madison, Wis., ("Mad City") banned urban chickens, forcing more than a few rogue backyard farmers -- known then as "the Chicken Underground" -- to get the law changed ... if they wanted to keep their chickens, that is. Now Madison is a veritable backyard chicken oasis, and serves as the backdrop for "Mad City Chickens."
Read about Big Tiny the rooster and Consuela the hen after the jump.
AOL Food's photo editor Rachel Been travels the world in search of deliciousness. Her most recent journey brought her to Guatemala's Chichicastenango Market.
Chichicastenango Market in Guatemala is one of the most vibrant markets in the country. Every Thursday and Sunday, vendors from around the region travel to Chici to set up varietal stands surrounding the Church of Santo Tomás. The assortment of food ranges from fresh produce to deep-fried chicken, and is available for only a few quetzales. ...
Rachel Been
A family of women make tortillas from blue- and white-corn masa, a dough paste composed of pestled corn. The women diligently pat out the thin, small dough discs throughout the day. Ten tortillas will cost you 2 Quetzales (50 cents).
Rachel Been
Fresh carrots and vegetables line the walls of the indoor produce market.
Rachel Been
At the end of one of the main roads, a group of women sell clucking hens and other animals such as dogs and turkeys out of woven sacks.
Rachel Been
And eventually those clucking chickens end up deep-fried in the market's dining area, served with fresh beans and tortillas.
Rachel Been
Fresh watermelons are covered with a plastic tarp that attracts swarming flies, apparently attempting to camouflage themselves as vagrant seeds.
Rachel Been
Women sell freshly cut onions in the indoor produce market.
Rachel Been
The market is so vast that for every item of produce, there are dozens of vendors offering the same food. Onions, avocados, carrots and tomatoes are some of the most popular items sold throughout Chichi.
Rachel Been
Outside of the produce market, vendors sell nuts and seeds out of buckets used for seasonings and snacks.
Over the past five years, the local food movement has helped spur the production of local artisanal cheeses in non-traditional dairy states, such as Nebraska, Illinois and Georgia. Although Vermont, California and Wisconsin remain cheesemaking hubs, other states are beginning to lead the way with farmstead cheeses like Little Bloom on the Prairie from Illinois, Georgia's Green Hill and Nebraska's Lancaster Duet.
Leslie Cooperband from Prairie Fruits Farm in Illinois and Charuth Loth from Farmstead First in Nebraska are both diversifying their farms and selling cheeses directly to customers at local markets.
"The perception of consumers is changing," Loth says. "People are starved for a connection with the farm." Loth and her fellow co-owner Krista Dittman laughed, saying that they feel they're engaging in "rural counseling" -- helping to reestablish a lost connection between food and the earth.
There's no doubt about it: The cheese boom is in full swing.
Over the past several years, specialty shops have blossomed across the country, from southern California to Maine (including Blue Fog Market, Fromagination and The Cave), all with super-dedicated cheese selections. This month renowned Brooklyn, N.Y., restaurant Franny's became the latest eatery to open its very own specialty food shop, Bklyn Larder, just down the street.
Aside from an array of prepared foods cooked by chef Travis Post, Bklyn Larder has its own cheese room, with an appropriate humidity and temperature for aging and storing cheese. "This will enable us to carry larger amounts of cheese," says Francine Stephens, who, along with co-owner and husband Andrew Feinberg, co-founded the restaurant back in 2004.
In September of 2007, Feinberg attended the Slow Flood cheese festival in Bra, Italy to seek out unique and tasty cheeses to eventually carry at the still-in-the-planning-stages Larder. They can all be spied through the glass window of the shop's aging room. (Food voyeurs -- you know who you are -- beware!)
A culinary trip down to Georgia often includes shrimp and grits, barbecue, crispy flounder and red velvet cake. Now Green Hill, a creamy bloomy rind cow's milk cheese, can be added to that gastronomic list thanks to Sweet Grass Dairy in Thomasville, Ga.
Tasting a piece of Green Hill is like opening a taste bud treasure chest. Its lush creamy texture melts dreamily on the palate, leaving a pleasantly mild tang.
While Green Hill shares many characteristics with its imported French cousin, Camembert, it boasts a uniquely buttery consistency. And whereas most imported Camembert has become industrialized for the United States market, Green Hill remains a standout handmade farmstead cheese.
Usually, the thought of goat's milk cheeses conjures up images of small, freshly ripened, creamy-to-crumbly chèvres, like the French Valençay or Brad Parker's ashed log, which come in pyramid and log shapes, respectively. Little Bloom on the Prairie, from Prairie Fruits Farm in Champaign, Ill., defies all such expectations. When ripe, its texture turns into a succulent cream that slowly oozes from its rind. (Trust us, that's tastier than it sounds).
Little Bloom on the Prairie is a goat's milk cheese with a bloomy rind similar to Mont Vivant, but with a luscious consistency that make its texture more comparable to a rich Brie. Still, even though the cheese's silky touch matches that of a bloomy rind, its flavors are distinctly herbal, floral and even grassy (tastes often associated with goat's milk cheeses). In short, based upon its texture and appearance (this bloomy rind cheese is in the format of a smaller Camembert), Little Bloom on the Prairie seems like a typical runny cow's milk cheese.
As with life, however, appearances can be deceiving: A bite of this fromage reveals an unexpected yet pleasant tang.
Gouda fans and those who love sweet, butterscotch-like flavors in their savory snacks may well go wild for Lancaster Duet, a cow and goat's milk cheese from Farmstead First in Lancaster, Neb.
A bite of this beautiful caramel-colored cheese initiates a complicated succession of flavors that begins with notes of dried dates and apricots, evolves into honey and candy and finally tapers off with a mild, sweet and milky tang. Its texture mimics its broad range of flavors: dense, with a sturdy exterior, it yields at a bite to reveal an incredibly creamy center.
In layman's terms, this is a handcrafted gastronomic masterpiece cave-aged to perfection. The complex cheese comes courtesy of Farmstead First, a collaboration between Krista Dittman (right) of Branched Oak Farm, 15 miles north of Lincoln, and Charuth Loth (left) of nearby Shadow Brook Farm. The name "duet" refers to the collaboration itself and the use of two different milks in the cheese. (Incidentally, this means Lancaster Duet is not officially a "farmstead" fromage, which must use milk from only one farm).
Learn more and find out where to find the cheese after the jump.
Pressed onto a baguette, crumbled over salads, or eaten straight, we can't get enough of goat cheese in springtime.
This year, voluptuaries and gastronomes seeking a decadently rich and creamy goat's milk cheese will go wild for Rainbeau Ridge Farm's Mont Vivant. Unlike other mold-ripened goat's milk cheeses (like Selles sur Cher or Valençay), this offering from Bedford Hills, NY has an exquisite bloomy rind (unusual in goat's milk cheeses) that seems to impart a more complex and cakey texture, as if it were a cross between Valençay and Brie.
Liver is a perpetual bottom dweller on Americans' list of favorite foods. This makes livermush -- yeah, really -- an especially hard sell. Once a staple of textile mill worker lunches, the creamy loaf of pig parts has lately become even more of a lunch pail pariah.
Changing tastes, mill closings and an onslaught of snack-wielding vending machines have conspired to nearly wipe out western North Carolina's signature liver, skin, snout and cornmeal hybrid, a khaki-colored treat pioneered by scrapple-loving German farmers who followed the Great Wagon Road south in search of work. But community leaders in Marion, a thrifty little foothills town where a turned-over tomato truck is occasion to break out the home canning supplies, are banking on livermush's resurgence. Local livermush makers suspect the poor man's pate could become the current recession's official lunchmeat.
Locavores and others yearning for an American alternative to French springtime goat's milk cheeses like Montrachet and Saint Maure de Touraine will most definitely delight in the ash-coated log from Pipe Dreams Farm in Greencastle, Penn.
This dense, 12-ounce "ashed log" of goat's milk cheese tastes mildly grassy, nutty and slightly peppery towards its edible ash rind. When the cheese is sliced, its paste exudes a seductive floral aroma with hints of citrus fruit. In a word, it's exquisite. But goat cheese is goat cheese, no?
We're laying 2:1 odds that some pal of yours has been champing at the bit to trot out that chestnut ever since Big Brown galloped toward destiny last Derby Day. And sure, you hooted, hollered, maybe even donned a big, fancy hat and welled up a little but honestly, did you watch even one other horse race in '08? Chances are, you were there for the mint juleps.
If you are there -- as in Churchill Downs -- for the juleps, you'll be in the hands of of the track's Executive Chef Joseph "Jo-Jo" Doyle, and that ain't a bad place to be at all. The 34-year-old chef isn't a Kentuckian by birth, but tells Slashfood that the cuisine of his Mobile, AL and New Orleans upbringing prepped him for making traditional Bluegrass fare.
Hear more from Chef Doyle and get traditional Kentucky Benedictine and Bourbon Slush recipes after the jump.
Those mourning the loss of their beloved, stinky French Roquefort (which just saw a hefty tariff bump) will delight in this wallet-friendly blue from the good old U.S. of A.
Mineral Point (Wis.)'s own Tilston Point is not the most attractive hunk of cheese we've ever seen, with a yellow-orange hue and blue veins that lend it the appearance of a past-its-prime cheddar. For its unctuous flavor, though, it's worth it: Tilston Point features the complex, luscious texture of its French counterpart along with the earthiness of a Stilton. Its refined flavors range from sweet to mineral-like and linger on the palate. Tasting this fromage is like getting stuck to a bench, enraptured, in front of Monet's water lilies. (OK, maybe we're getting a littlecarried away. Long story short: It rules.)
Hook's Cheese Company's Tony Hook and wife Julie have been handcrafting cheese including cheddar, Colby and Monterey Jack for more than 30 years. In 1997, they began perfecting a series of blue cheeses and in 2004 created Tilston Point, their sole washed-rind cow's milk blue, aging it for 10 months to a year. The company gets all of its milk from family-owned small local dairy farms boasting anywhere from 11 to 50 cows.
I'm typing this from under the kitchen sink in my triple-bolted Brooklyn apartment where I'm cowering in fear of Chef Alice Waters. If the New York Post's Carla Spartos and the New York Times columnist Maureen Dowd are to be believed, the founding Slow Foodista and her hench-polemicist Michael Pollan are hell-bent upon mugging every last McNugget-lovin' American of their free will, hard-earned cash and bags of pre-shredded iceberg lettuce.
It's my fault. I didn't speak up the first time they came and forced me, at Shun-point, to trek to Dan Barber's Blue Hill Farm and choke down sun-warmed, newly picked cherry tomatoes that tasted of summer and promise and the few times my grandfather was kind to me.
I remained silent when they dragged me hemp-bound to the Union Square Greenmarket to spend several dollars less than I would at my local C-Town grocery store to meet the folks who got their hands dirty growing ridiculously delicious heirloom peppers, beans and squash with more Earth-friendly farming practices. And I cried hot, sloppy tears when they pointed and laughed at my insufficiently grained bagel. See, according to Spartos' recent N.Y. Post editorial "Gourmonsters," Officer Waters and her ilk are out to shame us all.
"They're the food police and their patron saints -- Alice Waters and Michael Pollan, chief among them -- are on a crusade to tell you not just what you should eat, but how you should eat it.
Like an exclusive clique of anorexic cheerleaders, they think they're better than you."
As winter yields to spring, farmers' markets teem with bright produce and blooms shed their pollen, allergy sufferers experience the first sneezes of the season. While over-the-counter and prescribed drugs offer some level of comfort, they also come with a hefty price tag and slew of side effects.
Though science is far from conclusive on this front, many homeopaths think there may be another (edible) option. Some allergy battlers have found that an old folk remedy of eating local honey can help reduce the severity of their reactions. The logic goes like this: bees in an area collect nectar from the same plants that cause allergies, and honey produced from that nectar contains microscopic quantities of the allergens. By consuming small amounts of the honey, sufferers may be administering a form of homespun immunotherapy.
Others dispute the effectiveness of this treatment, and even its supporters acknowledge that honey isn't an instant fix. Traditionally, allergy sufferers consume small amounts of it every day for an extended period of time in order to build up resistance to allergens. (Some even warn that local honey can actually set off reactions. Be sure to check with your doctor if you are considering this method of handling allergies.)
This is all a long way of saying that we have a delectable honey liqueur recipe for the allergic and the resistant alike. Krupnikas, a delicious Eastern European liqueur made from spices, honey and grain alcohol, makes an aromatic, golden-hued tipple that can be drunk warm in the fall or on the rocks in the summer. With a spicy flavor and bright glow, it is a great way to celebrate the arrival of (a hopefully sneeze-free) spring.
This photo makes us want to skip on down to Johnny Rocket's, pop the Shirelles on the stereo and sip milkshakes two-straws-to-a-glass -- all before 10am.
But of course what looks to be a simple burger and mac combo platter with a sweet side of Moxie is actually a duck-pork patty slathered with seven-pickle relish accompanied by a gorgonzola and cheddar mac 'n cheese. We're pretty sure that's not what the Fonz was noshing on back in the day. Gotta love that fresh strawberry shake served up in a laboratory glass, too. Click over to the snapshot to learn what those lunchboxes have printed on 'em, part of the cutesy theme at Seattle's Lunchbox Laboratory.
If you're not in our Flickr pool yet it's time to jump in, start tagging photos "slashfood" and show off your skills already. And tell us if this pic makes you get a burger for lunch.
We can change the way we make eggs -- scrambled, poached, fried -- but what about changing the eggs themselves? Mix up your scrambling routine with quail eggs.
Gouda fans and those who love sweet, butterscotch-like flavors in their savory snacks may well go wild for Lancaster Duet, a cow and goat's milk cheese from 
As winter yields to spring, farmers' markets teem with bright produce and blooms shed their pollen, allergy sufferers experience the first sneezes of the season. While over-the-counter and prescribed drugs offer some level of comfort, they also come with a hefty price tag and slew of side effects.
Second Helping of Slashfood - June 19
Competitive-Eating Contest to Pit Humans Against Elephants
The Backyard Boom - The Hungry Bride
