Heirloom Apples

Apples have carried mythological status for eons, from Adam and Eve to Johnny “Appleseed” Chapman, who wandered the frontier of our newly minted nation founding apple nurseries. And then there’s the quintessential apple experience: the crrruusp as teeth pierce crisp skin to unleash a burst of ambrosial juice. Unfortunately, none of these mythical moments bear resemblance to the apples we find in today’s supermarket.

heirloom-apples

Of the nearly 16,000 types of apples that have set down roots in our country, just 3,000 are now readily available (only a few hundred of which are edible). Of those, only 11 comprise 90% of all the apples sold in grocery stores; 41% are Red Delicious alone.

The decline in diversity is due to several interlacing factors. Land where wild apple trees once bore fruit now sports strip malls and subdivisions, and consolidation within the food industry means that most apples available to us are grown on large tracts of land bearing just a few varieties. Small nurseries, which carry a far more diverse selection than the garden centers at big box stores, have taken a hit too. The number of nurseries carrying a significant variety of apple trees declined by nearly 50% between 1989 and 2009.

Yet despite the dire numbers, we’re in the midst of an apple renaissance. The alliance for Renewing America’s Food Traditions (RAFT)  dubbed 2010 the “Year of the Heirloom Apple” as part of its Forgotten Fruits initiative, with an eye to identifying and preserving disappearing apple varieties around the country.

While an “heritage apple” can mean any apple that’s been sold commercially since 1980, the term “heirloom apple” goes a bit deeper. These varieties have become part of our local lore and scenery, and seeds or cuttings are often passed from hand to hand. Heirlooms can also, though, be “rescued” from wild or abandoned trees, as Ezekiel Goodband, the orchard manager at Scott Farm in Vermont, has been doing for 30 years.

In the beginning, Goodband found that “all around, there were abandoned orchards that were growing up into scrub. I made deals with the owners that I’d prune and care for them in exchange for as much fruit as I could harvest and a few cuttings.” Then he would pore over old reference books trying to identify the types of apples he was finding. “There were Black Hawks and Roxbury Russets. It was a bit like keying out warblers with a Peterson Guide.” Once he began growing them, though, “it was a lot of trial and error. It seemed like there was quite a gap of knowledge.”

That knowledge gap, in fact, is one of the impediments to preserving heirloom apple varieties. RAFT and Slow Food worked to overcome the issue by mobilizing local Slow Food chapters to identify, document and grow varieties indigenous to their region. And has worked. From New York to Chicago to California, individuals and small groups are rescuing wild trees and overgrown orchards (and, in many cases, the stories that accompany them) and developing creative ways to grow them (adopt a tree, anyone?) and market them to the public, often through farmers’ markets and CSAs.

Goodband’s efforts have paid off too. The land that was once a conventional orchard growing only McIntosh now has over 70 varieties of apples. Goodband’s favorite part? Sharing the fruit of his labor. “People get to taste apples that Washington and Jefferson and Thoreau grew up eating. That’s the exciting part.”

The writer in me feels like this is where a tidy, descriptive list of common heirloom apple varieties would go. But I’m not going to do that. Since the point of preserving forgotten fruit is so much about taste of place, I’ll instead encourage you to seek out local growers and try varieties you may not have heard of or tasted before. Then start a conversation. Who knows … you may just end up meeting a modern day Johnny Appleseed.

Fair Trade Supports the People Who Produce Our Food

I’ve been hearing the phrase, “You vote with your fork three times a day,” a lot lately. And it’s true. Whenever you choose organic fare, you’re casting a consumer vote for sustainable, organic agriculture over the petrochemical agroindustrial empire. When you buy grass-fed, certified-humane beef or pasture-raised local eggs, you’re supporting livestock that’s raised on a natural diet and under humane conditions.

That “vote” also applies to the people who produce our food, and that’s where the idea of fair trade comes in. Fair Trade USA has designated October Fair Trade Month. Fair Trade USA is a nonprofit organization and the U.S. member of Fair Trade Labelling Organizations International (FLO), which offers third-party fair-trade certification for goods produced in developing nations. The idea is to support people through trade, not aid.

Fair Trade USA licenses its Fair Trade Certified (FTC) logo for use by American companies on products that have FTC ingredients. One example is Ben & Jerry’s, which uses FTC ingredients (vanilla, cocoa, sugar and coffee) in some of its flavors; they’ve committed to becoming entirely FTC by 2013.

So what does that mean when I buy my canister of FTC, shade-grown, French roast coffee? I know:

  • The farmers have received a fair price for their goods.
  • They have safe working conditions.
  • They trade directly with importers to avoid paying extra fees to middlemen
  • Crops are cultivated sustainably. Although FLO doesn’t mandate organic practices, they encourage sustainable agriculture that’s chemical- and GMO-free. If farmers do go organic, they fetch premium prices for their certified-organic goods.
  • Farmers and workers decide democratically how to invest their profits, which typically go to community and business development.

Along with cocoa, sugar and bananas, coffee is the most common fair-trade certified product. That’s a good thing, since coffee is the No. 2 import into the U.S., behind petrol (sorry, there’s no fair-grade gas). But there are many other fair-trade items to look for: quinoa from Bolivia, olive oil from Palestine, wine from South America, plus spices, tea, whole fruits and vegetables, rice and nuts.

These items turn up in a number of familiar FTC products, including gourmet chocolate, of course. You can find FTC coffee at Starbucks and Wal-Mart, or buy fair-trade spirits made with  FTC quinoa, Goji berries and coffee.

You might pay a small premium for fair-trade food. For instance, a 12-ounce container of fair-trade coffee might cost 50 cents to $1 more than its conventional cousin. But I’ve also found gourmet fair-trade chocolate that costs less than its competitors.

While Fair Trade USA’s FTC logo is the most ubiquitous, there are other fair-trade labels out there. Whole Foods has its own Whole Trade program and label, for which they partner with Fair Trade USA, as well as the Swiss-based Fair for Life IMO Social Responsibility & Fair Trade and the Rainforest Alliance, which focuses on improving the lives of the world’s rain-forest residents through sustainable agriculture, tourism, forestry and other programs.

And other third-party-certified fair trade programs are being developed. One is the Certified Fair Labor Practices & Community Benefits program. It offers fee-based certification for small family farmers to large-scale producers and applies throughout the supply chain. Applicants will also have to be certified organic.

“It can be done anywhere in the world, including the U.S.,” says Neil Blomquist, of the consulting firm Sustainable Solutions. There certainly are North American agricultural workers who need fair-labor support as much as farm workers in developing nations.

Ultimately, Blomquist notes, all the organizations that support fair trade share the same goal: to make fair food widely available and affordable so it’s a smart everyday choice for all consumers.

Vermiculture: 1 Woman + 1,000 Worms = Smart Composting

Of all the animals, the worm has played the most important part in the world’s history.–Charles Darwin

Ever since learning that food scraps in landfills turn into methane gas–one of the leading pollutants responsible for global warming–I’ve been on a tear to figure out how to compost in my apartment.

My research pointed to one answer, and a most unfortunate new word: vermicomposting. I was pretty grossed out even saying it. For me, it evoked images of voracious rats chomping through fetid food waste.

In reality, it’s the process by which worms eat garbage and transform it into rich fertilizer, which can then be returned to the Earth.

Okay, that’s beautiful. But still, the idea of hundreds of slimy, dirty worms noshing my food scraps in my own home gave me the creeps.

Yet the more I researched, the more it made sense. Worm bins are compact (16 x 23 x 19 inches), so they’re a perfect choice for small-space living. Also, worms turn garbage into compost in three months, as opposed to a year with garden composting. Worm castings (or poop) and tea (worm pee) are a rich source of nitrogen, making them an excellent organic fertilizer. Properly maintained, the worm bin won’t smell. (If it starts to stink, then you’ve got a problem: either it’s too wet, too dry or too full.)

Here’s how to start your own worm ranch:

Find a home for the worms. The City of Santa Monica, Calif., where I live, subsidizes composting containers. So, for $33, I picked up my cute lil’ worm bin, which even had a name: Wriggly Wranch. Check with your municipality for a similar deal.

With a sleek, black modernist architectural design, the Wranch offers Red Wrigglers the finest in contemporary living.  It fits perfectly on my tiny back porch. The worms can tolerate temperatures between 50-90 degrees F. If it gets colder or hotter, they’ll have to be inside. Keep your worm bin out of direct sunlight.

Round up some worms. There are several species, but one of the only kind that will work in the bin are called Red Wrigglers. Several companies will airmail Red Wrigglers to your door for about $25 a pound. Leaving such a huge carbon footprint in my effort to recycle seemed absurd, so I put an ad up on Freecycle and got immediately got seven or eight responses. Worm farmers are a supportive bunch, it turns out. You can also buy them from your local nursery.

It takes about 1,000 worms (1 pound) to get started. You could start with fewer, but it will take patience to let the little guys multiply into a population big enough to handle large quantities of food scraps.

Make the bed. To create the bedding for the worms, the Wranch provides a block of coconut coir.  We spread the coir in the bin and then dumped our little recyclers in.  I’ve never been so excited to open a can of worms.  (Sorry, had to make that joke.)

Feed them properly. Worms thrive on a diet of fruit and vegetable scraps (except citrus rinds), coffee grounds, crushed egg shells, nut shells and even stale bread. They don’t like any animal products (meat or dairy), fats (including vegetable oil) or rotting food.

It took a week or two for our worms to really start eating.  After a couple months, the population was big enough that they could handle a pound of food a day! The trick is to put food scraps in the food processor so that they’re already broken down for the worms.

I eat the food, they eat my garbage and then it all goes back to the earth.  Nature’s perfect, closed-looped systems never cease to amaze me!

Evangeline Heath is a freelance writer based in Santa Monica. She documents her adventures in yard-sharing and urban homesteading in her blog FarmApartment. Her last post for NOURISH Evolution was about yard-sharing.

Burning Beast: A Festival that Celebrates the Whole Animal, Sustainably

Sometimes enlightenment comes in the form of a lamb taco. This summer marked my second pilgrimage to Burning Beast, a festival that brings together meat lovers and sustainably raised meat, and which now holds a permanent spot on my annual calendar. After my first year in attendance, I described Burning Beast as a, “bacchanalian meat-lovers picnic,” which is true, in part.

This year, however, my experience of the event tapped into a much deeper level than simple meat-love.

Burning Beast is the three-year-old brainchild of Chef Tamara Murphy, of Seattle’s Elliot Bay Cafe. Each July, Murphy gathers a handful of Seattle’s best chefs and pairs them with sustainably raised “beasts.” The chefs cook outdoors, in a big field at Smoke Farm in Arlington, Wash., using only wood fire and various contraptions of steel, cinder block or bricks.

The scene is artsy and medieval. Folk musicians play and sing, aerialists and trapeze artists swing above the crowd. In center field sits a 20-foot-tall wooden goat, which is ceremoniously burned after the meal. A pig steams in an earth oven, a flock of chickens spin on a rotisserie turned by bicycle pedals, a whole goat is splayed and wired to a steel frame, where it hangs over a smoking bed of coals. All day long the air is filled with the chop-licking aromas of fire-roasting meats and the flavorful smoke of apple, hickory and peach wood.

In addition to meats, there are sea creatures and vegetables, nearly all of which are local and sustainably harvested. Once finished, the foods are crafted into fine creations using the broad palette of flavors familiar to Seattle chefs: smoked rabbit banh mi, lamb tacos with roasted chili and tomato salsa, ballotines of moose meat wrapped in bacon and filled with maple- and blueberry-infused sausage. Guests are asked to bring their own plates and utensils, and when the dinner bell rings they line up for three-bite portions from each chef, bouncing from station to station. It is juicy, delicious meat poetry.

While giving her welcome speech, Murphy said something that forever changed the way I view not just Burning Beast, but the local-sustainable movement. The animals we had been watching roast all day, which many of us were seeing for the first time in whole form, had come from small, local farmers and ranchers. This event, she said, is really about using the whole animal, because if we want the availability of better meat, we need to support the small farmers and ranchers who raise it.

Murphy later explained that these small producers provide meat within a completely different system than the industrial meat empire. She personally has the, “privilege and opportunity” to buy from two small local farms. As she put it, “When the lamb is ready, the lamb is ready, and they need to sell the whole animal. You can’t just order a case of lamb racks every two weeks.” Murphy knows what she’s talking about, having raised, slaughtered and prepared her own pig.

At this point in our changing food system, one of the best things consumers can do is adapt to the needs of the people trying to bring us better animal proteins. Thinking about buying meat in bulk (as in whole, half, or quarter animals), and learning to cook every part of the animal are key to ensuring our own “privilege and opportunity” to buy better meat.

By doing so, consumers can confidently purchase meat from members of their communities who are dedicated to the health of the land, the animals and each other.

Writer, poet and chef Ginny Mahar currently resides in Missoula, Montana. When she’s not busy freelancing or posting on her blog, Food-G, you can find her in the mountains, earning her calories.

Nourishing Heroes: Food Advocates Curt Ellis & Ian Cheney

This is the latest installment in our Nourishing Heroes series, in which we feature the individuals and organizations who inspire us with food that nourishes body, soul and planet. Do you know a Nourishing Hero we should feature on NOURISH Evolution? Let us know who inspires you!

If you attended Yale University about 10 years ago, you may have crossed paths with Curt Ellis (above left) and Ian Cheney (right), members of the class of 2002 who combined a passionate commitment to consciousness-raising with a flair for the dramatic. To underscore students’ desire for Yale’s cafeterias to serve food that was minimally processed, pesticide-free and grown in a responsible manner, the two and their cohorts released live sheep onto the campus quad and brought in kiddie pools filled with manure.

“Part of it was to have fun,” Ellis now acknowledges, “but there were definitely politics involved.”

The Brooklyn-based pair has since gone on to interweave politics, advocacy and entertainment in their careers, most notably through the founding of their production company Wicked Delicate Films. Their 2004 release King Corn, produced and directed by Ellis’ cousin Aaron Woolf, followed the duo as they grew an acre of corn in Iowa and then traced its movement through America’s industrial food system. The film picked up a prestigious Peabody Award, and it came out when the cultural zeitgeist was beginning to focus on the multifaceted perils of what’s now referred to as Big Ag.

Ellis says books like The Omnivore’s Dilemma and Fast Food Nation and documentary SuperSize Me were all part of this same general movement toward greater transparency in food production, and within a few years, the growing public consciousness surrounding food issues suddenly picked up enormous traction. King Corn both reflected, and advanced, this burgeoning food consciousness.

Today, Ellis and Cheney work together on several advocacy programs and tour the country speaking at conferences and on college campuses. Each is also the point person for their newest slate of projects.

Ellis, for his part, is a founding member of FoodCorps, a national AmeriCorps public service initiative that will train a fresh generation of young people to work in school gardens, implement farm-to-cafeteria programs and lead nutrition education projects at sites across the country.

“We love working on something that can make such a tangible difference,” he says. “FoodCorps basically provides a troop surge in the response to the obesity epidemic.” (FoodCorps’ first host sites will be selected on Nov. 17.)

Cheney, meanwhile, is focusing on Truck Farm, a new documentary, slated to premiere this winter, that features the 1986 Dodge pick-up his grandfather gave him when he graduated from college. (It’s the same truck Cheney and Ellis drove to Iowa to shoot King Corn.) Cheney has since turned the truck into a green-roofed mobile garden with 20 varieties of fruits and vegetables, including serrano and poblano peppers, sugar snap peas, cherry tomatoes, okra, chard, kale, lettuce and a wide variety of herbs. Truck Farm (the vehicle) has traveled to 40 schools up and down the eastern seaboard, up the steps of the U.S. Botanic Garden and to the USDA in Washington, D.C. The pair uses the pickup to get people excited about how easy it is to grow food themselves.

The documentary, produced with the help of crowd-sourced funding from Kickstarter and a generous grant from the sustainable clothing company Nau, tells the story of how people around the country grow food in innovative places.

Ultimately, Ellis says, he and Cheney want to inspire America’s young people to pick up shovels and garden or farm–and to see that choice as a dignified one.  The most important message, though, he adds, is: “It’s OK for food advocacy to be fun.”

Meet our other Nourishing Heroes:

Cheryl Sternman Rule is a food and nutrition writer whose work has appeared in numerous national magazines, including EatingWell and Body+Soul. She is the voice behind the food blog 5 Second Rule.

CSA 101: What is Community-Supported Agriculture?

We talk a lot about connecting with your food and cultivating local sources here on , but a lot of people still counter with “how?” Yes, there are farmers’ markets, and there are gardens for those who have the room. But what to do when the farmers’ market is out of season, or if you can’t make the trip that week? Enter the CSA, or community-supported agriculture.

CSA-community-supported-agriculture

With a  CSA, you’re helping support sustainable farming by paying a lump sum up front for produce they’ll grow for you in the coming month(s). It’s a win-win: the farmer benefits from a steady income stream and you get a steady supply of locally-grown, farm-fresh produce.

I’ve been psyched about the concept of CSAs for years, but as a professional recipe developer, I’d often be buying out-of-season produce to test (I can’t tell you how many Thanksgiving recipes I’ve tested in April) or need a specific ingredient list, so I held off on actually joining one. But I finally relented last year, and I’m so glad I did. Sure, it’s incredible produce and it feels good to support my local peeps, but there’s also a sort of underlying challenge of “how can I use this?” that’s just plain fun.

If you’re curious about joining one too, read on.

How much do I have to buy?

Each CSA works differently, but oftentimes you’ll pay by the month or quarter. Most CSAs also offer different size “boxes,” depending on how large of a household you need to feed.

What do you mean “box”?

Most CSA deliveries come in the form of a reusable cardboard box, milk or wooden crate.

What do I get in my box?

That depends on both the season and the CSA. Without fail, your box will be packed with peak-of-the-season produce, often picked just hours earlier; last fall our CSA boxes would come laden with kale, cabbage, chard, onions and radishes. But you may also find extra items like farm-produced eggs, honey or jams. Some CSAs are even partnering with local artisan producers to include their wares in the boxes.

What if I don’t want something that’s in there, or can’t use everything that week?

Being part of a CSA does take some getting used to. After all, it’s not like filling a grocery cart where you’re picking and choosing what you want; the choice is essentially being made for you based on what’s abundant in the field. But the taste—and the feeling of being part of your community and supporting a family farm—more than makes up for it.

One thing that helps me stay on top of what’s come in is my handy chalkboard. That way, I can piece together a meal by glancing at what’s fresh in the fridge. And don’t be daunted by unfamiliar items. I’ve found that the farmers themselves are often the best source for ideas—I’ve gotten great recipes for kohlrabi, nettles and more from mine. Just ask.

I’ve also become more resourceful with how I use ingredients. If poblanos show up, for instance, I might toss them in to roast with potatoes, whereas normally it would be spuds alone. If I have a surfeit of cucumbers in the box, I’ll make a jar of sweet-hot pickled cucumbers.

If I join a CSA, does that mean I can’t go to the farmers’ market or start a garden of my own?

Not at all. I find that I don’t buy the volume of produce I used to at the farmers’ market, but I still love to go for the connection, and to pick up things I’m craving that might not have shown up in my box.

Where do I find a CSA?

You might be surprised by how far flung CSAs are now these days. LocalHarvest.org is a great place to start; plug in your zip code and see what’s near you. Call around and get a feel for how each one works and sign up for the one that’s the best fit.

GE Salmon in Front of FDA

Today was the first day of hearings for a new ‘brand’ (AquAdvantage) of genetically-modified salmon that grow twice as fast as normal salmon. The company, AquaBounty, is presenting in front of the FDA today (the Veterinary Medicine Advisory Committee) and tomorrow (the Food Advisory Committee) to argue its case and, so far, the FDA seems on board. In response to people’s concern for food and environmental safety, the FDA responded with the resoundingly confident statement that “the fish shouldn’t cause any allergies not found in conventional salmon and that there is little chance they could escape.” (from this article on AP by Mary Clare Jalonick)

Hmmm.

First of all, what makes this fish genetically different from its natural cousins is that a growth hormone has been added to its gene structure, along with another gene that acts as a trigger to keep it active all year long. Given that this structure is unprecedented in nature, I’m curious to know what gives FDA officials the confidence to say that the added genes won’t have any effect on humans. And much of the evidence supporting the argument that there is no biological difference is supplied by AquaBounty, the very company that stands to profit from an FDA Yes.

Second, it seems a bit naive to say that there is little chance they could escape–despite the company’s assurances otherwise. True, most farmed fish aren’t cultivated in Prince Edwards Island and then shipped to the Panamanian highlands for “grow out.” (one of the fail-safes, by the way, is the use of chlorine to kill any possible escapees … not exactly friendly on the environment) But we’ve heard assurances before. Escapees from fish farms are a well-documented hazard of open water aquaculture. In one Canadian study, juvenile escapees were found in 75% of the streams surrounding the fish farm.

Third, these closing statements by AquaBounty’s CEO Ron Stotish just tick me off:

  • “Stotish says the fish would be bred in better conditions than many of the world’s farmed salmon, and could be located closer to population centers to help feed more people.” Stotish is clearly ‘feeding’ on the concern that global consumption of seafood is rising. That’s true, and it’s true that aquaculture will likely play a large part in feeding that demand (click here to read our piece on Farm Fresh Fish). But there are many other species that make more responsible choices for aquaculture; sorry, Mr. Stotish, we don’t need your salmon to feed the world.
  • “The company has also said the increase in engineered salmon production could help relieve endangered wild salmon populations.” Here’s a better solution … experiment with other sustainably wild-caught species (like black cod), and explore a variety of seafood that’s responsibly farm-raised (like barramundi, clams, mussels and arctic char).
  • “The company is also arguing that the fish do not need to be labeled as genetically engineered. Stotish said, ‘The label could even be misleading because it implies a difference that doesn’t exist.‘” I don’t know about you … but no matter what the FDA says, I don’t want my family being test subjects to see if an unnatural, overactive growth hormone in a food will affect our bodies. And I certainly think it’s my right to make that choice.

Here’s my question for the FDA … why? Why are you so eager to say yes to a company who has everything to gain by that yes, and so hesitant to say no to protect the public you’re charged to serve? Even if the risk is minimal, isn’t that too much given that we the people have nothing to gain and everything to lose? After all, you received 29,000 responses to the draft, the vast majority of which were against genetic engineering of our food.

If this irks you as much as it (obviously) irks me, you can take action here on Food and Water Watch. If you’d like to make your voice heard here on NOURISH Evolution, join the conversation in Eco Bites here.

Nourishing Hero: Kelly Masini’s School Garden Inspires a Community

This is the second installment in our Nourishing Heroes series, in which we feature the individuals and organizations who inspire us with food that nourishes body, soul and planet. Do you know a Nourishing Hero we should feature on NOURISH Evolution? Let us know who inspires you!

Students, parents and teachers are returning to school, where they’ll reunite with friends, catch up with colleagues and notice small tweaks like a fresh coat of paint or a new tetherball pole.

At Noddin Elementary School in San Jose, Calif., they’ll notice something else: raised garden beds heavy with ripe zucchini, tomatoes, Swiss chard and eggplant, which they helped plant three months ago.  Over the summer, the planters have yielded an astonishing 785 pounds (and counting) of produce for the local Second Harvest Food Bank.

Kelly Masini, a San Jose mother of two, spearheaded the wildly successful initiative and galvanized the entire school community to take part. I’ve worked with Kelly for several years on our district’s Wellness Committee. She’s engaged and clear-spoken, but not a bulldog. Given the glacial pace with which schools sometimes effect change–due to bureaucratic wrangling, politics or struggling finances–a project like this could have easily fallen off the rails. Kelly kept it on track.

“My mom always had some type of vegetable in the ground during the summers,” Kelly recalls. She planted her first vegetable garden in her mid-20s and after giving birth to her older son Alex, now 9, she joined the Master Gardener program through the University of California Extension.

Fast forward several years to last spring, when Kelly and fellow parent volunteers Tamiko House and Jennie Reynolds discussed adding new planting boxes to the five already present on school grounds. House and Reynolds obtained grant funding from the City of San Jose, and soon 10 boxes were in place, along with a simple irrigation system.

At this point, Kelly realized leaving 10 beds dormant during the year’s most productive season–summer–made little sense, and so she proposed an idea.

“As a Master Gardener,” she says, “I’d become familiar with Plant a Row for the Hungry.” The program encourages home gardeners to plant an extra row of seeds and donate the resulting harvest to the needy. Kelly expanded this concept by getting students, teachers and parents to plant all 10 beds on a single afternoon, planning to donate the entire summer harvest to the food bank.

After facing a few bureaucratic hurdles from the school district, she was finally green-lighted thanks, in part, to support from a green-thumbed school board advocate.  She verified that the food bank could accept the produce, and then headed out to procure plants.  Ace Hardware and SummerWinds Nursery, two local gardening centers, donated over 300 plants. (Most were past-prime “seconds,” which she nurtured back to health before planting.)

On a glorious May afternoon, kindergartners through fifth graders put those plants in the ground, and each Friday throughout the summer a small cadre of dedicated parent volunteers and children weeded, tended, harvested and drove the vegetables to the food bank. The list of donated vegetables is impressive: zucchini, crookneck squash, Japanese eggplant, cayenne peppers, bell peppers, jalapenos, three kinds of beans, several varieties of tomatoes, two types of radishes, Swiss chard and carrots.

“Kelly stepped in at just the right time with a viable community solution to end hunger,” says Poppy Pembroke, the food bank’s communications manager. “Not only is Kelly’s impact visible in the poundage that Noddin produces, but her role as a community leader is inspiring countless others to step up and share their harvests with our neighbors in need.”

Indeed, Kelly reports that one of her summer high-school volunteers at Noddin wants to launch a similar program at his school.

With the start of the school year, the newly planted winter crops–pumpkins, spaghetti and winter squash–will most likely be slated for classroom use, says Kelly. “I’m planning to do summer crops [for the food bank] next year, though.

“This could have been an epic fail,” she reflects, “but I just went for it. It just seemed like the right thing to do.”

The lucky recipients of Noddin’s summer bounty would likely agree.

Cheryl Sternman Rule is a food and nutrition writer whose work has appeared in numerous national magazines, including EatingWell and Body+Soul. She is the voice behind the food blog 5 Second Rule.

Do You Call Yourself a Locavore? … Why?

My, my, my … there’s been a tizzy of discussion as of late about how misguidedly futile it is to be a locavore. Which, I’ll be quite frank, annoys me a titch. I think one of the downfalls we face time and again in America is that we jump on bandwagons and ride them hard to the end of the road until they fall apart in a heap. We don’t seem to learn that what starts out as something inherently positive—buy organic, buy local, buy wild-caught—turns sour when all other options are ruled out as blasphemy.

Which is what I feel is happening with the organic versus local versus (now) low carbon footprint discussions. First of all, not everyone who sources their food locally is doing so because they think it will save the planet (as we found out when we asked you to weigh in, both here and on Facebook). That, in perfect bandwagon style, is lopping off big chunks of the big picture.

Many people I know, myself and other NOURISH Evolution members included, buy food from local growers because it fosters community and connects us deeper to the place we call home. We also do it because we can ask farmers how they’re growing their food, and ranchers how they’re raising their livestock. Not to mention the fact that a locally-based food system (bear in mind this could mean regional sourcing … it doesn’t need to mean Farmer John down the street) may just be safer too.

So how do you keep from swaying from ‘got to buy local’ to ‘got to buy organic’ to throwing your hands up in exasperation? Ask yourself what’s important to you.

Is a low carbon footprint top on your list? Then you should probably start a garden of your own and, while you’re at it, seriously consider cutting down on how much meat you eat. Are chemicals and genetic modification what concern you most? Then you’ll want to stick with certified organic, or buy from farmers directly—organic or not—so you can ask them how they grow their food. Is supporting your community what excites you? Then suss out farmers markets and give a few CSAs a try.

This isn’t to say that you can’t challenge yourself to move in other areas as well. I’m awfully dialed in on sourcing food that’s free from conventional chemicals and manipulation, but I could certainly grow in the lowering my carbon footprint department. I drive to town all the time, for example, when I could easily bike the few blocks to market (I even bought a basket and pumped up my tires … now I just need to do it).

The important thing is to make an informed choice of your own, not blindly follow what someone else says … no matter how virtuous it may sound.

Eggs Got You Scared? Here’s the Scoop

What annoys me about the coverage of the current egg recall is that it almost always says, “traced to an Iowa farm.” But, proud as I am of my home state, it’s not misguided regionalism that makes me take offense at this statement. It’s the use of the word “farm.” Eggs from chickens raised on true farms are not the issue.

eggs got you scared?Wright County Egg and the rest of serial offender Austin “Jack” DeCoster’s operations linked to this recall are not farms, but factories. They’re the textbook example of everything that’s unhealthy and unsustainable about the industrial model that has hijacked American agriculture.

The conditions in which these chickens “live” are, to put it mildly, inhumane and unsanitary. The variety of salmonella involved in this recall, s. enteritidis, is present in these chickens and infects the eggs even before they form shells. It results from what they are fed and how they live.  Just as disease breaks out when thousands of humans are crammed into a very confined space, so it is for these birds.  Feed them contaminated food, which likely occurred here, and you only exacerbate the problem.

Add to this poor sanitation and handling of the eggs in transit all over the country, and you have the recipe for the thousands who were affected by this outbreak. It takes a large concentration of the bacteria to sicken all but the most seriously compromised immune systems. But if you allow raw fresh eggs to sit for extended periods of time at temperatures above 45 degrees F, a colony of bacteria can double its population roughly every 20 minutes. A single cell can become millions in just 24 hours.

So the Food and Drug Administration is once again scrambling to shut enormous barn doors after the proverbial horses have run off to a couple dozen other states prompting (again) the outcry for stricter government regulations over our food. But industry regulations don’t help much after the fact–just look to the Gulf, where “drill, baby, drill!” turned into “spill, baby, spill!”

The solution, however, is not simply stricter federal oversight, though clearly that’s needed. It’s also a stronger reliance on a smaller, more localized food system – one that doesn’t produce food the same way it produces microchips. This also has the bonus of being easier to regulate as the need arises. Shorter supply chains inside confined geographical regions are easier to oversee and investigate than national or international ones regulated (if at all) by bureaucrats thousands of miles away. They’re also harder for large agro-industrial conglomerates to dominate.

That’s not to say food-borne illnesses can’t occur with eggs from the small, sustainably minded family farmer down the road. They sometimes do, though when an outbreak does occur, it’s isolated and sickens dozens countywide, not thousands nationwide. But outbreaks are far less common because the birds are healthier and the farmers simply care more. They know that it’s not just their own livelihood that depends on the food they produce, but also the health and well-being of their family, friends and neighbors.

Until we achieve that idyllic world, there are a few things you can do to reduce your risk from eggs:

  • Know the source. You should know where your eggs come from and how they were produced. Use our guide to egg labeling and health claims.
  • Keep eggs cool. Refrigerate all eggs immediately upon getting them home (at 45 degrees F or below, but not freezing), and keep them that way until moments before cooking them.
  • Cook eggs thoroughly. I still eat eggs over easy and make Hollandaise from raw yolks, but that’s because I know and trust the farmer who raises my eggs. If you don’t, make sure they’re cooked until the white and yolk are firm–or buy pasteurized eggs.
  • Keep it clean. It’s not just the particular tainted egg that can sicken you, but anything that touches that egg.  If you whisk a few eggs to scramble for breakfast, set the whisk on the cutting board and cut a melon on that cutting board, you can get sick even though your scrambled eggs were cooked until dry. It’s called cross-contamination and it’s is a common cause of food-borne illness.

Meanwhile look for a local source of eggs from a farmer you’ve met and can trust, rather than a factory foreman like Jack DeCoster.

Kurt Michael Friese is the founding leader of Slow Food Iowa, serves on the Slow Food USA National Board of Directors, and is editor and publisher of the local food magazine Edible Iowa River Valley. He’s also Chef and co-owner of the Iowa City restaurant Devotay, a freelance food writer and photographer, and author of A Cook’s Journey: Slow Food in the Heartland.