I knew something was up when my parents switched butchers and started getting their meat from the Amish. As people increasingly raise their food consciousness--realizing that the choices we make about the food we consume deeply affects the environment--the demand for eco-friendly, high quality, and preferably local products is also on the rise. My parents, like many of their baby boomer generation and their offspring, relish high quality meals, but are also concerned with the world around them.

For a few years now that demand has trickled into the kosher meat sector, as anyone who shops at Whole Foods knows. Despite the higher price, demand for kosher organic chickens is clearly evident, judging by the ransacked shelves at the Union Square store by Friday morning. Some Jewish leaders and organizations are now promoting the concept of Heckscher Tzedek, a Kosher Justice certification on foods.

But Jews aren't the only ones buying into this religiously-proscribed organic eco trend. Jewish food doyenne Joan Nathan wrote an article in today's New York Times which outlines a host of faith-based farms raising cattle and poultry across the country according to interpretations of biblical tracts and various religious precepts. According to one industry expert,

“Religious leaders have been giving dietary advice for decades and centuries, telling us to eat fish on Friday or to keep kosher in your home. What we are seeing now are contemporary concerns like the fair treatment of farm workers, humane treatment of animals and respect for the environment being integrated into the dietary advice given by the churches.”

As industrial kosher meat slaughterhouses continue to be mired in allegations including inadequate safeguards against mad cow disease, reports of fecal matter in the food-production area, and two recent high-risk recalls (an unusually high number), I'll be happily digging in to my Amish brisket this coming holiday season.

The latest in vending machine trends allows you to have your hot knish and keep kosher too -- anywhere, anytime. Despite their appropriately cheesy name--"Hot Nosh 24/6"--America's first glatt kosher vending machines are available 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.

So far the Hot Nosh machines dispense delicacies such as hot mozzarella sticks, veggie patties, and pizza. Separate fleishik vending machines will be hitting the market soon.

As reported in today's New York Times, the guys behind Hot Nosh hope to outfit hospitals, college campuses, and offices around the world -- or for now at least in the tri-state area (where it's really hard to find kosher food):

"From a culinary perspective, this is the kind of food that would make the pharisees of local, seasonal food fall to their knees and beg for mercy. The frozen knish is thawed in a microwave compartment, then crisped by what Mr. Fetman calls 'a convection oven on steroids.' The hot dogs, individually sealed in plastic so they can stay in the machine for up to 21 days, are heated in seconds with a combination of grilling and infrared technology."

Clearly kosher dining has hit a new high with Hot Nosh 24/6.

Well, at least Beyoncé's getting Shtetlbootylicious with it. The principle backer behind Hot Nosh 24/6 is Phat Farm's Ruby Azrak, who also runs Beyoncé's clothing line, House of Dereon. A Hot Nosh vending machine has already been installed at the Azrak offices in the garment industry. What's next, Beyoncé-K?

Ok, I can't promise a recipe every week. But I can promise you'll be able to make homemade jam. And no, this recipe does not involve sterilizing jars, making wax lids, or using pectin. Just sugar and strawberries and a bit of lemon juice (fresh squeezed, always).

Freaked out that summer's nearing its end? Homemade jam is a great way to keep that summer taste on your tongue a little while longer.

You'll need a lot of fresh strawberries. Do yourself and the environment a favor and buy local. It's summer, after all, and delicious produce is aplenty. At my farmer's market I got a deal on a big crate of almost over-ripe strawberries.

Follow this recipe for some insider tips.

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I've had my eye on 121 Ludlow Street for a while now. A giant "For Rent" sign hovered in its window for at least a couple of years, tempting me as I walked by. How cool would it be to live in an old Lower East Side synagogue?

I even called the landlord once. Only commercial tenants, he barked. Click.

But I'm perfect for you - a nice Jewish maydele, I wanted to tell him. I'm writing a freakin' dissertation on the Jews of the Lower East Side. What more could you want?

Now it seems the landlord has finally found his tenant. Chickie's Pigs. I kid you not. It's a new pizzeria, and their signature pie is topped with three versions of pork: prosciutto, ham and sausage.

Gawker posted this picture yesterday (though they reported that the former building was a burial society -- based on the "Chevra Kadisha" in its name -- it was probably also a synagogue):

Pig pies in a former house of Jewish worship? Sure, I devoured a souvlaki (guess which white meat) with tzatziki at a lovely Greek restaurant last night, without a care. Yet I've also been known to weep and nearly vomit in a gourmet restaurant in the French countryside when my chicken was served to me literally in a pot of warm milk.

People are contradictory, as my first professor of Jewish history would say, with a shrug. And many of those inner-conflicts are played out over the dinner table. So I'm not sure how I feel about this seeming transgression.

I'd do just about anything to save the remaining tenement synagogues dotted across the Lower East Side. But is this taking things to far?

Jews have long championed the therapeutic properties of Matzoh Ball Soup, but the Japanese have put a whole new spin on Cup Noodles with this latest spa treatment.

Hakone Kowakien Yunessun Spa now offers a giant bowl of ramen seasoned with the requisite spices and a massive dash of salt and pepper for group dunks. According to the owners of the chichi spa: "The aroma of pepper is said to have the effects of refreshing your mind, warming your burned-out heart and inflaming your passion."

Ramen will never be the same.