Real Time Farms

I've always found that it's much easier to stick to my values at home than it is out "in the world." For instance, Josh and I only buy meat that was grass-fed, had no hormones or growth steroids, and was raised using humane and sustainable practices (Niman Ranch is a shining example). However, while we feel perfectly comfortable interrogating the butcher at our local specialty grocery store before buying $25 worth of steak, we tend not to be as aggressively questioning with the very friendly college student waitress when picking up a quick sandwich at a local coney island for under $8.

I'm sure some would argue that I have the absolute right (and perhaps even responsibility) to ask about the restaurant's practices and there's definitely validity in this viewpoint. However, at this point in time with high unemployment rates and the rising cost of living, the ability to be choosy about food sources is a privilege and I would hate to be perceived as uppity in asking about local sourcing and organic certification in the middle of the restaurant.I suppose one way around this would be to make a phone call or send an email to the restaurant to avoid the in-person confrontation, but that's one of those things that's so far down on my to do list that it probably won't ever happen. 

 

Luckily, there is this great online resource: realtimefarms.com. At the site, you can enter your zip code and find out which local restaurants are purchasing produce and other food products from local farms and food artisans. Each entry has a small profile, a sample menu, and some photographs. What's even better, however, is that you can also search the other way, identifying a single farm and finding out what restaurants use their produce. Again, every farm has a small profile and some photographs, giving users a better sense of the people, produce, and the production process.

I think sites like this are great localization tools because they provide easier access to information that consumers need to make informed decisions. By joining the site, both food producers (e.g. farmers) and food purveyors (e.g. restaurants) can show their commitment to a certain type of sustainable, local food system and in doing so, can send signals to would-be customers who hold similar commitments. While I might not question the origins of my convenient (and inexpensive) lunch, I certainly won't refuse the insight provided by this compilation into how I might better stick to my values outside the walls of my own home.

"The Femivore's Dilemma"

I was going through my much too large hierarchy of email folders yesterday and stumbled across a gem: "The Femivore's Dilemma," an article by Peggy Orenstein from the March 10, 2010 edition of the New York Times. It's entirely possible that I'm breaking some kind of unspoken blog ethics by simply reproducing an article as a post, but Peggy Orenstein said it better that I ever could. Enjoy!

The Femivore's Dilemma

By Peggy Orenstein

Reproduced from the March 10, 2010 edition of the New York Times.

Four women I know — none of whom know one another — are building chicken coops in their backyards. It goes without saying that they already raise organic produce: my town, Berkeley, Calif., is the Vatican of locavorism, the high church of Alice Waters. Kitchen gardens are as much a given here as indoor plumbing. But chickens? That ups the ante. Apparently it is no longer enough to know the name of the farm your eggs came from; now you need to know the name of the actual bird.

Human Empire graphic

All of these gals — these chicks with chicks — are stay-at-home moms, highly educated women who left the work force to care for kith and kin. I don’t think that’s a coincidence: the omnivore’s dilemma has provided an unexpected out from the feminist predicament, a way for women to embrace homemaking without becoming Betty Draper. “Prior to this, I felt like my choices were either to break the glass ceiling or to accept the gilded cage,” says Shannon Hayes, a grass-fed-livestock farmer in upstate New York and author of “Radical Homemakers,” a manifesto for “tomato-canning feminists,” which was published last month.

Hayes pointed out that the original “problem that had no name” was as much spiritual as economic: a malaise that overtook middle-class housewives trapped in a life of schlepping and shopping. A generation and many lawsuits later, some women found meaning and power through paid employment. Others merely found a new source of alienation. What to do? The wages of housewifery had not changed — an increased risk of depression, a niggling purposelessness, economic dependence on your husband — only now, bearing them was considered a “choice”: if you felt stuck, it was your own fault. What’s more, though today’s soccer moms may argue, quite rightly, that caretaking is undervalued in a society that measures success by a paycheck, their role is made possible by the size of their husband’s. In that way, they’ve been more of a pendulum swing than true game changers.

Enter the chicken coop.

Femivorism is grounded in the very principles of self-sufficiency, autonomy and personal fulfillment that drove women into the work force in the first place. Given how conscious (not to say obsessive) everyone has become about the source of their food — who these days can’t wax poetic about compost? — it also confers instant legitimacy. Rather than embodying the limits of one movement, femivores expand those of another: feeding their families clean, flavorful food; reducing their carbon footprints; producing sustainably instead of consuming rampantly. What could be more vital, more gratifying, more morally defensible?

Source: The National Gardening Association

There is even an economic argument for choosing a literal nest egg over a figurative one. Conventional feminist wisdom held that two incomes were necessary to provide a family’s basic needs — not to mention to guard against job loss, catastrophic illness, divorce or the death of a spouse. Femivores suggest that knowing how to feed and clothe yourself regardless of circumstance, to turn paucity into plenty, is an equal — possibly greater — safety net. After all, who is better equipped to weather this economy, the high-earning woman who loses her job or the frugal homemaker who can count her chickens?

Hayes would consider my friends’ efforts admirable if transitional. Her goal is larger: a renunciation of consumer culture, a return (or maybe an advance) to a kind of modern preindustrialism in which the home is self-sustaining, the center of labor and livelihood for both sexes. She interviewed more than a dozen families who were pursuing this way of life. They earned an average of $40,000 for a family of four. They canned peaches, stuffed sausages, grew kale, made soap. Some eschewed health insurance, and most home-schooled their kids. That, I suspect, is a little further than most of us are willing to go: it sounds a bit like being Amish, except with a car (no more than one, naturally) and a green political agenda.

After talking to Hayes, I rushed to pick up my daughter from school. As I rustled up a quick dinner of whole-wheat quesadillas and frozen organic peas, I found my thoughts drifting back to our conversation, to the questions she raised about the nature of success, satisfaction, sustenance, fulfillment, community. What constitutes “enough”? What is my obligation to others? What do I want for my child? Is my home the engine of materialism or a refuge from it?

I understand the passion for a life that is made, not bought. And who doesn’t get the appeal of working the land? It’s as integral to this country’s character as, in its own way, Wal-Mart. My femivore friends may never do more than dabble in backyard farming — keeping a couple of chickens, some rabbits, maybe a beehive or two — but they’re still transforming the definition of homemaker to one that’s more about soil than dirt, fresh air than air freshener. Their vehicle for children’s enrichment goes well beyond a ride to the next math tutoring session.

I am tempted to call that “precious,” but that word has variegations of meaning. Then again, that may be appropriate. Hayes found that without a larger purpose — activism, teaching, creating a business or otherwise moving outside the home — women’s enthusiasm for the domestic arts eventually flagged, especially if their husbands weren’t equally involved. “If you don’t go into this as a genuinely egalitarian relationship,” she warned, “you’re creating a dangerous situation. There can be loss of self-esteem, loss of soul and an inability to return to the world and get your bearings. You can start to wonder, What’s this all for?” It was an unnervingly familiar litany: if a woman is not careful, it seems, chicken wire can coop her up as surely as any gilded cage. 

Peggy Orenstein, a contributing writer, is the author of “Waiting for Daisy,” a memoir.

It's the Economy, [Friends]!

When Former President Bill Clinton was running his campaign, his strategist famously explained that the best tactic for winning the presidency was through a platform that focused on how he would bolster the economy. He said, and I quote, "It's the economy, stupid."

As most of my generation and those prior know, Clinton ended up winning that election and went on to win another four years later, so clearly there was something to this idea. In fact, the phrase became so prolific it spawned spoofs, books of the same title, and remains today a pop culture reference to the primacy of economics in the every day lives of the middle class. Though from my privileged position I'd like to think that money probably shouldn't be the central motivating factor in anything, it's hard to deny that economic arguments can be pretty darned convincing.

And so, today I share with you information from the Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations (FAO) that demonstrates yet another reason why growing your own food just makes sense: not only is it an act of environmental stewardship, of localization, and of true gourmandise, it is also an act of frugality and economic sensibility.

Below is a graph which shows the food price index for the world's food from the FAO. I'm no statistician, but essentially what this graph shows is that the price of food is rising and looks like it will continue to rise in the coming months, years, etc. Even with inflation, it's pretty evident that food is becoming proportionally more expensive, meaning individuals and families have to commit a higher percentage of their income to eating now than they did 15 years ago.

From the Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations

In more concrete terms, the last time I was at a grocery store in Ann Arbor during the summer when eggplant was in season, the vegetable cost $1.99 a pound. Granted this may be a high price in some areas, in Ann Arbor it's fairly standard and, even if the price is reduced to $0.99, a pound, you can buy 4 eggplant seedlings at the Farmers' Market for around $3. With a little bit of effort and a patch of dirt to put them in, one plant can produce 5-8 pounds of eggplant meaning with 4 plants, you're getting at least 20 pounds of the fruits. Imagining you find eggplant for $1 a pound at the grocery store, conservatively your return on investment is approximately $15, and this return becomes even larger when you start you own seeds (buying a packet of 50 or so for $3).

That, my friends, is the economic sensibility of growing your own food that's hard to argue with. Of course, small-scale home gardening can't replace all food needs, but with vegetable produce from your own backyard, the less you need to rely on the grocery store. So even if you supplement your shopping list with a just couple of container tomato plants and a pepper plant or two, you're on your way to controlling your food cost in a time when food prices are on the rise.

And, in case you're still not convinced, check out how the numeric index has changed over the past 10 years in the table below. Until next time, shop smart!

From the Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations

Despite Our Best Intentions...

Earliest Spring Flowers

Sometimes, despite our best intentions, things just don't work out the way we intended. For instance, this past Saturday was an idyllic day before the official start of spring, and so Josh and I went for an epic walk around town. I'm not a camera carrier nor a photo documenter, but a good part of me wants to be for the sake of this blog so I even brought my camera and took a few photos of the flowers popping up in yards all over. The plan was to use these as the basis for a "Welcome to Spring!" post on Sunday (the first day of spring). Of course, as you've probably induced by now, that didn't happen, and here we are two days past the official start of the season, with me anticlimactically offering - oh, by the way - happy spring. Here's a photo. 

Obviously, this example is fairly harmless. Unfortunately, however, our failed attempts at good-doing are not always so benign. Take for example the United States' relatively new and increasing love for quinoa. Though people will debate how it's pronounced, it's hard to find anyone health savvy who won't support an overwhelmingly positive nutritional analysis of this near wonder food. In fact, NASA even posits that with its "exceptional balance of amino acids, quinoa... is virtually unrivaled in the plant or animal kingdom for its life-sustaining nutrients."

Quinoa

In addition to great nutrients, quinoa is also fairly versatile. Related to beets and spinach, quinoa isn't a grain, but it can be used like one, replacing other carbohydrate fillers like rice and potatoes. And what's not to like about this, right? We live in a country with a growing obesity problem that also loves meat and potatoes. This food can actually help us get more out of our food without sacrificing a texture that we love. Great!

Well, my friends, turns out that it's great for us and our European friends who have also embraced the food. It's not so great though for the Bolivians who can no longer afford this staple crop grown in their country and are now, ironically, turning to the processed foods that increase the risk of obesity and malnutrition at the same time.

So, a quinoa lover myself, I am now working my way through our remaining supply of quinoa (and savoring every bite of it) because I will buy the delectable specimen no more. 

Ultimately, this is just another argument for localization. The facts are:

• We don't need quinoa in our diet. Though it has great nutritional value, in Michigan we are at no loss for healthy and plentiful crops to eat.  

• We can't grow quinoa.  If we want it on our plate, we have to import it from Bolivia, increasing our carbon footprint through transportation. 

• By purchasing quinoa, we increase the demand for it and, consequently, its cost. As a result, Bolivians who do depend on quinoa for basic nutrition can't afford to purchase this product grown in their own country as a staple of their diet. Seems like a huge and preventable social injustice to me...

Living in such a relatively prosperous nation, many of us have choices when it comes to what we eat and it falls upon us to make choices that are good for us and good for our local, national, and even global community. So, in sum, whenever possible eat local so our global friends can simply eat.

(Information in this post taken from "Quinoa's Global Success Creates Quandary at Home,"  an article in the March 20, 2011 edition of The New York Times. Thanks Josh for being such a diligent newspaper reader.)

Recommended Reference

This morning I had the relative luxury of coming to work an hour later than usual (the result of staying late on Monday). In my extra time, I pulled out my favorite slow cooker reference book - Fresh From the Vegetarian Slow Cooker by Robin Robertson - and put together some "Hungarian Goulash" (p. 86) for tonight's dinner. Made with tempeh (a fermented block of soy beans) and served mixed into noodles, this very thick stew has sauerkraut, a tomato base, and provides a truly hearty meal that does not lack for flavor or texture. 

The cool thing about this book is that it has over 200 recipe ideas which, though I doubt they were written with preserver-cooks in mind, lend themselves incredibly well to substitution, replacing store-bought canned ingredients with homemade equivalents.  Below I've included an example below of an original recipe from the book. In orange are my changes which allowed me to use mostly home-preserved ingredients, making it necessary to buy only a couple of non-local items (e.g. bouillon for vegetable stock, tempeh, and salt).

Hungarian Goulash with Tempeh

Ingredients

• 2 tablespoons olive oil Enough butter to coat the pan (about 1/2 tablespoon)
• 1 pound tempeh, cut into small cubes
• 1 small yellow onion, halved and sliced thinly into half moons (2-3 small onions, can find local ones almost year round)
• 2 cups sauerkraut, drained and rinsed (more like 3 cups and I don't drain or rinse... that's all the flavor!)
• 14.5 ounce can diced tomatoes, drained (about 8-10 whole frozen paste tomatoes, skins removed if desired, thawed and diced)
• 1 tablespoon sweet Hungarian paprika 
• 1/4 cup dry white wine (red also works, depending on what you have open, and you can use more for more intense flavor)
• 1 teaspoon caraway seeds
• 2 tablespoons tomato paste (3-4 tablespoons crushed dried tomatoes)
• 1 1/2 cups vegetable stock
• Salt and freshly ground black pepper
• 1/2 cup sour cream or tofu sour cream

Instructions

• Saute tempeh in olive oil for about 10 minutes. Put in slow cooker.
• Saute onions in olive oil until soft. Put in slow cooker.
• Put everything else in slow cooker. Cover. Cook on low 6-8 hours.
• Serve over wide noodles (mixed into whole wheat macaroni).

This type of substitution definitely takes some practice because, as far as I know, there's no one reference for converting canned tomato units to whole frozen ones. But rest assured: because most slow cookers dishes are stew-like, it's pretty difficult to make something inedible (just be sure that in anything including uncooked grains, you don't skimp on the liquid since the grains need to absorb this liquid in the cooking process). Plus, Fresh From the Vegetarian Slow Cooker is a great reference and a good inspiration so experiment away (and let me know if you find conversion rates from standard quantities to home-preserved quantities that you can rely on)!

Preserved Menu Planning: Documenting the Stores

Let's say that you really like sauerkraut. Like, a lot. So, you've done your homework and according to the Ball Blue Book of Canning, it takes 20 pounds of cabbage to make a batch. Your seed packages says that each cabbage plant will grow to be about 4-5 pounds so you figure 5 or 6 cabbages ought to do it. 

Sound thinking. Great start.

However, how many quarts of sauerkraut did the recipe actually make? Was this enough or did you find you wanted more when you cleaned out the last jar in January? Could you have fit more than the suggested 20 pounds of cabbage in your 3-gallon crock, thereby getting additional sauerkraut and only marginally increasing the effort? How many pounds of cabbage did you end up using? 

Manageable in and of themselves, if you're trying to do food preservation on a large scale, imagine all of these questions times 40 for each of the various items you'll make to preserve. Even just with the sauerkraut example, it starts to get tricky when you try to remember the following year how many cabbages you need to plan to grow for the 9 quarts of sauerkraut you have decided you want to make...


So, like my last post, the primary goal here is to share the utility of some simple documentation in a) increasing the garden to preserved food learning curve and b) becoming more successful in the pursuit of minimizing the amount of non-local and processed food consumed throughout the year.

Without further ado, here it is: Food Preservation. (There's only one version this time as there are multiple tabbed workbooks at the bottom of the document.) May it be as useful to you as it has been to us...

Our Goal (in case you missed it)