Chews Wise

Is Organic and Local "so 2008"?

By Lisa M. Hamilton

Organic and Local is so 2008—or at least that’s the case that journalist and “The End of Food” author Paul Roberts makes in Mother Jones this month. The gist of his argument: because the food system’s problems are so deep, the food movement needs to mature beyond its one-dimensional, at times robotic devotion to Organic and Local and instead adopt a broader range of solutions.

He offers the example of Fred Fleming, a noted Washington wheat farmer whose masterful no-till system has greatly reduced erosion from his land. Fleming remains outside the foodie circle because his system depends on using herbicide, but Roberts argues that he is just the sort of farmer we should be embracing.   Roberts does make an important point: agriculture faces many more issues than whether or not farmers use pesticides; to boot, all of those issues are currently being compounded by climate change.

Wes Jackson of the Land Institute recently made a related point underscoring the threat we face from soil erosion. He argues that the most damaging climate-change-related weather events we’re seeing are not hurricanes hitting the Eastern seaboard, but heavy rainfall and floods in the Midwest. In Jackson’s view, even the destruction wreaked by Katrina did not compare to the long-term loss we suffer from having millions of tons of farmland topsoil washed away in floods, as happened last March and April. I can imagine Roberts chiming in to say that if using some Roundup would hold that soil in place, the tradeoff would be worthwhile. It’s hard to disagree with that. 

But after hearing Roberts make his case live at Organicology in February, I would argue that he’s too near-sighted with his remedy. Rather than embrace farmers’ lesser-of-many-evils practices within the existing system, we need to overhaul the system itself. As it is, farmers are expected to be purely economic beings that fit into the free market alongside mortgage securities; the true solution instead lies in seeing them as the ecological caretakers we so desperately need them to be.

Think of it roughly like the National Parks: Years ago, we as a nation recognized the need for large areas of land to be taken out of the real estate market for the express purpose of maintaining them according to a different set of priorities; we saw that wild lands served the public good, and that not protecting them was to our detriment. Well, now we’ve reached the same situation with our working lands, as the constant pressure of the market system has led them to a threatened existence.

I’m not suggesting we buy up farmland and make it government property, but rather that we recognize farmers and ranchers as a kind of public servant. To begin with, replace the Farm Bill’s provisions for subsidies and incentives for commodity production with a true support system of financing, education, and farmer-centered research and market development; that could enable growers to switch their focus from bank notices to caring for their lands long-term. In time, probably most would gravitate to ecological methods such as the organic no-till farming system that Rodale has been developing for the past decade. 

Some, though, might choose herbicide-dependent no-till as the suture that would hold their land in place. In that lies the greatest challenge of supporting farmers: trusting that given the proper tools, they know and will do what’s best for the land. I believe that trust is where Roberts’ argument was leading, even if it didn’t quite reach that conclusion in the MoJo article. If so, it’s a step in the right direction.

Northern California-based writer/photographer Lisa M. Hamilton focuses on food and agriculture. Her book "Deeply Rooted: Unconventional Farmers in the Age of Agribusiness" (Counterpoint) comes out in May. 

On the Mall at Obama's Inauguration

I was on the mall in D.C. yesterday, in the frigid temperatures, in the packed crowds, with a five-year-old on my shoulders getting a glimpse of a historic moment. When I asked my daughter today what she thought about the inauguration, she said: "music, music, speaking, speaking, flags wave, yeah Obama!" And that about sums up what happened. But then, I also recall the men and women crying nearby, mostly African American, the laughter when the MC said, "now you may be seated" (we had been standing for about 2 or 3 hours by then and would continue to stand); the tidal wave of cheers when Obama first appeared on the giant TV screen; the boos at Cheney and Bush; and the loud, "yes!" and "you're right!" during Obama's inaugural remarks.

So yes, it was a historic occasion, unlike anything I can recall, having lived in DC for more than a decade now, and having come down here as a child to participate in very different kinds of gatherings on the mall - the peace demonstrations during the Vietnam War. This was far bigger, far more moving, far more inviting than anything I've seen and it literally turned our town upside down.

We live 2 blocks from the Capitol dome, our street the first one outside the security perimeter, which meant that buses were chugging down our block all Monday night. I woke up at 5 a.m. and looked out the window to see streams of people already heading down to the mall. We let the kids sleep in, so didn't forge out into the crowds until about 8:30 and by then it was like Time Square in NYC, but with the gridlock of packed crowds on many blocks. It took over an hour to get to a place I jog to in 10 minutes on any other day.

The air was also festive, people smiling at each other, saying hello to total strangers. I was humbled by the fact that I just had blocks to walk while others traveled all night to get here and in some cases didn't make it onto the mall. In fact, early on, we were locked out of the mall by police barriers, until by a stroke of good luck we passed by the gates of the Smithsonian Castle garden just as they were unlocked. A stream of people passed through and filled up the spaces on the mall. We were among them, rushing to witness the moment before it passed.

Then we stood, sipping hot cider we had brought, listening to the remarks all of you have now heard, cheering and feeling the emotion rip through the crowd as Obama took his oath of office. We could only see it on the Jumbotron, but it wasn't what you saw so much as what you felt. A sense really of being humbled by so many people feeling exactly the same thing no matter where they came from, no matter who they were. Even my 81 year old mother, watching it on TV back at my house, said she had never seen anything like it -- not even when JFK was inaugurated.

On Sunday we had also stood through the entire concert at the Lincoln Memorial, watched my peers in the crowd sing along with Garth Brooks on "Bye Bye Miss American Pie" (while younger folks looked on somewhat clueless), sang along again with Pete Seeger, his grandson and Bruce Springsteen on "This Land is Your Land," (my daughter joining in, having learned the words in school). We just wanted her to remember, to say years later that she was there, making history.

And so were we.

- Samuel Fromartz

 

"We're Booming!" Says Local Pennsylvania Farmer

By Don Kretschmann

Recently on the way back from the mailbox to retrieve the newspaper, I was struck by the headline: "Bad Trend." It seemed like the 30th bad news headline in a row: "A Fight for Survival." "Some Shoppers Go Without." "Financial Genius on Verge of Disaster." It was the last straw. It's time someone heard some good news!

The local food business is thriving -- despite the "real economy."

Demand for locally produced food is far outstripping supply. In my 30 years farming and marketing locally, this was our best year ever. More telling is that there has been no big "bubble" but just steady growth over that entire time. And throughout this fall there was a steady drumbeat -- like never before -- from those wishing to buy our local produce next season. I hear from other farmers around the state and other regions the very same thing.

What is making it thrive are some fundamental factors. Certainly these would lead one to think the boom isn't some flash-in-the-pan phenomenon but a truly sustainable movement.

It all starts with a geometrically increasing consumer base which "gets it" -- that real food from local sources can, and does, promote health. That spending those food dollars for local foods promotes many things most of us want -- the freshest things the earth can provide for our table at a reasonable price; the comfort of knowing where our food has come from and how it was produced, i.e. transparency and trust; and beautiful agricultural landscapes in one's vicinity. Locally produced food does all these things while tasting so ... good.

Observing firsthand the connection between our physical world and our own sustenance, i.e. having farms nearby, gives citizens a sense of peace, security and well-being. The practice of agriculture models characteristics in the human spirit that are worth encouraging -- hard work, honesty, connectedness, thrift, adaptability, inventiveness, recognition of the divine, artistry in the aesthetics of place and responsibility.

Yes, we can try to teach these things to our children in our educational institutions, but immersion is always the best teaching method. Farming exerts far more influence on the quality of our lives than even mere dollars would suggest. People are rediscovering this and the fact they value it is attested by this explosion of local food sales.

Agriculture is well-known for recycling dollars many times over as they percolate through the local economy. According to a Penn State University study, farms exact less in terms of municipal services per dollar of tax collected than any other type of land use. Using Ross Perot's words, local farms don't create a "giant sucking sound" of jobs leaving the country, but just the reverse.

Now, I said earlier that this local food is provided at a "reasonable" price. This is not the same as food provided inexpensively.

The willingness of the consuming public to pay a fair price for food reflects a fundamental change. They see nutritious food is actually a bargain when compared with purchasing cheap food which is deleterious to health, or food which is shipped astronomical distances incurring hidden costs of environmental degradation and energy dependency.

Several factors can impede this unfolding ag revolution and opportunity. One is the loss of local, small-scale food processing facilities -- slaughterhouses and butcher shops, particularly. And the other is the loss of young people to enter the field (no pun intended) who've had the experience of growing up on farms.

The first might be addressed with revamping inspection regulations and would be an excellent place to spend some of those federal infrastructure dollars. Both impediments will be addressed as talent is drawn to the good agricultural and ag infrastructure opportunities.

Maybe that other economy could take some lessons from the simple economics of good old-fashioned horse sense.

I'm always amazed how deep the real pockets of our diversified Pennsylvania farmers are. It's not paper wealth that has been created but the durable hard capital of topsoil, woodlots, cattle, orchards, fences, barns and machinery.

It's pretty typical of these farmers not to live beyond their means, to be adverse to borrowing, to take responsibility, to see beyond rhetoric and schemes too good to be true, and rather than expecting a free lunch, they provide it. Instead of spending their grandchildren's inheritance, they build it.

The "real" economy seems to have forgotten these basic lessons.

Don Kretschmann is an organic farmer from New Sewickley Township in Beaver County, Pennsylvania. He serves on board of directors of Pennsylvania Association for Sustainable Agriculture. This article first appeared in the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette.

Postcard from a Slaughterhouse: The Ones that Got Away

By Joe Cloud

One of the more fascinating things about working as a meat processor for a large number of small farmers is the diversity of their livestock. I never quite know what to expect from day to day.

On New Years’ Eve alone we had heritage Gulf Coast and Highland Cheviot sheep; Berkshire, Duroc, and Tamworth hogs; and Black and Red Angus cattle.  One Gulf Coaster was a large ram with an excellent curling rack of horns, which his owner had us save for his sons.

I completely understand that sentiment: visitors to my home are met at the end of the driveway by a large bony skull with great down sweeping horns, placed strategically where it can scare the bejesus out of unsuspecting guests when the glare of their headlights catches the thing on a dark night. The skull is what remained of a small group of Scottish Highland cattle that passed through the T&E plant.

A few weeks ago we had two of the most unusual animals I have ever seen in our barn. The owner had called to say that he had a couple of mature Texas Longhorns and asked if we’d be able to process them. “Sure, bring ‘em in" was our reply.  I wasn’t at T&E Meats when they arrived, but I was definitely impressed when I finally saw them.  Most cattle have prosaic numbered ear tags, but the tags on these animals set them—and their owner — apart. They had names, not numbers.  The black and white female was “Queen of Spades,” and the magnificent yellow-brown bull was “Gingerbread Boogie.”

His horns were an amazing 62” from end to end. And don’t think for a minute that he didn't know where those tips were. When I first went out to see him, he walked up to the door of the pen. I had heard that he was tame, so I put my hand through boards, thinking he might want his chin scratched. Well, he jumped back with a snort, glared at me, then very deliberately and slowly swung his head, bringing the left horn tip to where my hand had been. “Bam!” He slammed the tip against the stall door with impressive power.  He deliberately brought the right horn tip around and repeated the  gesture, then stared at me as if to say, “Now we understand each other, don’t we?” 

Queen of Spades lifted her tail and had a pee. I watched as Gingerbread Boogie tasted her urine, sticking his tongue in the stream, then curling his lips back and inhaling deeply to catch the fine aromas, like a wine aficionado with a premier cru Burgundy.  Bulls do this to see if the cow is coming into heat. Here he was in the abattoir, and he was enthusiastically thinking of one last fling. I admired his spirit.

We ran the kill floor the following day when I was away at a meeting. I called in for a progress report, and my staff told me that things hadn’t gone well. Gingerbread Boogie’s horns were too long to make it up the lane into the knock box, so they had called his owner to come take them back home.

I can’t say I was sorry to hear that they were back on pasture.  We have work to do, but we admire the animals and their beauty too.

Joe Cloud is a partner in True & Essential Meats, a small slaughterhouse in Harrisonburg, Va.

Mind-Boggling Jersey Tomatoes, Circa 1933

Reading a post over at Ethicurean about the concentration of tomato processing in California reminded me of a picture in Ed Kee's Saving Our Harvest: The Story of the Mid-Atlantic Region's Canning and Freezing Industry. More than 1,000 independent canning operations were located in the mid-Atlantic at the end of the 19th century, feeding the East Coast. (Ed is an extention agent at the University of Delaware who generously gave me a copy of the book).

The photo above is of tomato trucks lined up in front of Campbell Soup Co. plant in Camden, N.J., in 1933 -- yes, this was the Garden State until the garden moved West. Here's one of the many labels in the book:

 

- Samuel Fromartz

Anatomy of a Thanksgiving Meal

By Lisa M. Hamilton

In celebration of Thanksgiving, I'm offering a photo essay that documents a unique raising turkey collaboration in the one-time poultry capital of California, Petaluma. A local Slow Food group, whose members wanted to raise heritage breed turkeys as part of the organization’s efforts to save endangered food species, got together with the local 4H club, which was focused on breeding another endangered species, young farmers.

"Sometimes when I explain what we do people look at me like I'm a monster," Cathy Thode, one of the project's organizers, told me. "I see it differently. We've raised these birds from day one, we know everything they've ever eaten, and we know that right up to their last breath they were never once mistreated. If you're going to eat meat, well, I think this is the way it should be done."

While some of the images are not for the faint of heart, if you eat turkey, the story is worth a trip.

Images: © 2008 Lisa M. Hamilton

Postcard from a Slaughterhouse

This post was contributed by Joe Cloud, a former landscape architect who took a career course change and bought a family-owned slaughterhouse in Harrisonburg, Virginia, near his family's farm. His partner in the venture, True and Essential Meats, is Joel Salatin, the grass-based livestock farmer featured in Michael Pollan's The Omnivore's Dilemma. These small operations are fast disappearing (the former owners were in their 70s), meaning smaller farmers lack options to slaughter livestock. Cloud hopes to grow the business of sourcing from local farms but that is still just a small portion of the operation.

By Joe Cloud

As owner/operator of a small local slaughterhouse, I see a lot of pigs over the course of a month.  Some of them are raised in industrial operations in Pennsylvania.  We buy them to make sausage in my plant. The rest are brought in by small farmers from all over Virginia to be slaughtered and processed for sale in farmer's markets, at restaurants, and directly to consumers.

The pigs all spend a day to several weeks in the humble little barn behind my plant.  The moments when I go out to feed and water them are among the best parts of my day.  Alone in the cobwebby old structure, I talk to them, bring them their corn ration, and take a moment to just watch them being pigs. I like to touch the pigs while feeding them -- lay a hand on a round hip, feel the warmth and the coarse bristle against my skin.  Perhaps this is strange, knowing we will soon take their life, but I appreciate the sense of connection. This morning it was cold, and I had to smile looking at a pile of Joel Salatin's Polyface pigs peacefully sleeping in a big pile to keep warm.

It is fun to step into a pen full of hogs – and informative. Joel's little pig dudes run up eagerly like curious dogs, and immediately cover your legs with inquisitive round snouts checking out the smells.  No fear or shyness here. They run and jump around, snuffeling  excitedly.  Black, tawny, red, spotted, their coats literally shine with health. Glossy bristles give their bodies a bright sheen.

But when I step into a pen of industrial hogs, the atmosphere is completely different.  Sunk in a sleepy torpor, they lack awareness, and they startle with alarm. When you surprise a pig, they bark like dogs and scurry mindlessly around. Perhaps I should say hobble – many of them limp.  Raised on hard concrete, their feet and joints are malformed, and they live in pain. The deep sawdust in my barn is the best they have ever had.  Their white flanks and shoulders are covered with bloody scrapes – they have been fighting, working to establish their dominance hierarchies in middle age.  Unlike Joel's hogs who are raised together in their little band in the woods, the industrial hogs have no sense of a pecking order because they have not grown up together.

We'd like to process hogs from small local farms, but that isn't an option right now. There aren't enough hogs raised locally.  We bought a going concern with two dozen employees and customers to take care of. But the hope is to build these new local markets. Then maybe all the hogs out in the barn will be like Joel's. One day.
Image: T&E Meats

My Friend, Joe, the Butcher

My friend Joe Cloud is an eclectic guy. When we were together at Reed College, in Portland, Oregon, he made a living one summer pruning all the trees in the college canyon. Now it’s a site of environmental restoration, but Joe was good with a chainsaw.

After a couple decades as a landscape architect in Seattle, Joe and his wife moved to central Virginia, where Joe’s family has a farm. Nice place, nearby Joel Salatin’s Polyface farm that was featured by Michael Pollan in his book, The Omnivore’s Dilemma.

Since the farm was already bought, by his dad, Joe figured he’d do something else. He considered a few things but then ended up buying a family-owned slaughterhouse operation in Harrisonburg, Virginia, in a partnership with Salatin, who was already renting Joe’s family’s land to graze his cattle. Salatin’s getting vertically integrated, though the slaughterhouse isn’t only processing his meat. It's a rare smaller scale facility that already has a USDA inspector on site -- which is crucial for selling meat.

Joe told me all this a couple of weeks ago, when we went out for mussels and Belgium beers here in D.C. with friends from college. Last week, he sent out a press release titled “From Omnivore's Dilemma to Carnivore's Delight:”

Known locally as T&E Meats (as in Tom and Erma), the business will continue serving the community from its current location on Charles Street, where it has operated continuously since 1939. 

 "T&E has been processing our federal inspected beef and pork for many years and its survival is critical in order for us to serve our restaurants, retail outlets, and individual customers," said Salatin.

Co-owner and general manager Joe Cloud added:  "There is enormous pent-up demand among Virginia farmers for processing services that will allow them to sell into high-value local markets, which we hope to capitalize on."

Salatin and Cloud also plan to expand the retail offering to include a variety of locally produced natural and organic meats, including Polyface Farms' unique grass-finished beef and chicken and their acorn-fed pork.

I haven’t yet visited the facility or store, nor have I tried its local specialties -- like a scrapple called pon hoss made with organ meat, of Germanic origin, that Joe is raving about -- but I do hope to get down there soon.

It’s quite a mid-career move for Joe, but if he’s as good with a butcher knife as he was with a chainsaw, I imagine he’ll do alright.

- Samuel Fromartz

Chewy Nuggets

What’s for Dinner? - Michael Ruhlman has an interesting thread at his blog on staple meals - what people actually cook for dinner. The variety among people who responded (177 comments and counting) is pretty astounding, with a lot of ethnic food -- more than I would have predicted.

Let’s Do the Math - An engaging post at Ethicurean points to a study that the majority of greenhouse gas emissions occur “during the production of food, not from transportation.” Eating locally is equivalent to driving 1,000 fewer miles a year. But switching out of red meat - for just one day a week - to a vegetarian meal equals 1,160 fewer miles driven per year.

Out of Softshell Crabs - Senators want to declare the Chesapeake blue claw crab a disaster, triggering $20 million in emergency aid for the fisherman. The bay suffers from hypoxia stimulated by agriculture and urban water run-off - essentially choking oxygen out of sea life.

Sustainable Sushi? - I took a quick look at Gourmet.com at the rising tide of sustainable fish in Japan, of all places. They still love their bluefin tuna and whale, but sustainable fish is slowly gaining ground (beachhead?) in supermarkets.
- Samuel Fromartz

Chipotle Goes Loco for Local

Chipotle, the fast-food chain that has been making strides with sustainable meat, is now ramping up local foods with a promise to source at least 25 percent of one produce item from small and midsize farms within 200 miles.

The company is getting a lot of publicity with the move, but it's not alone. Bon Appetit Management Co., the less well-known food service company that runs more than 500 cafeterias for places like Oracle, Yahoo, Seattle Art Museum, and my alma mater, Reed College, sources about 40 percent of all its supplies locally (though that may include bread from a local bakery).

All of this is great news for local farmers, whose biggest challenge now is meeting the robust demand. And it also creates a challenge for upstart food distributors which will feed the markets with local farm fare.

Let a thousand new local businesses and farms bloom.

- Samuel Fromartz