boston localvores, the blog

Cucumbers! Already! And kohlrabi, lettuce, carrots, turnips, chard, scallions, cabbage, beets and zucchini.

On Sunday, June 28, the Boston Globe Sunday Magazine published this
poorly researched anti-localvoristic tirade.

Our response is below:

To the Editor:

Tom Keane grossly misunderstands the principles and practices of
“locavorism,” and the implications of industrial agriculture.

To say that locavores’ worry only that transporting foods long distances
is environmentally taxing is to be truly in the dark about what goes on on
America’s factory farms. With beef, for example, heavily-subsidized,
petro-chemical guzzling corn grown in the country’s heartland is shipped
to feedlots, where cattle live in conditions that give rise to fatal E.
coli outbreaks (like the one causing the current beef recall as of today,
June 29). The inputs are far greater than I've outlined here and are more
than just a truck ride east.

This is only one example of how the industrial food system works. Its
hidden costs and its dangers are very high and very real. (A problem with
a centralized food supply affects all of us; a problem with centralized
microchip production, as in his poor example, does not spell life and
death.)

One need only look as far as the Boston Globe itself to find example
conscientious eaters explaining that their locavorism is not about denial.
"I don't just need coffee, I love coffee. It's the center of my world and
I'm happy to support it." And "I'm in no way a purist.” (Locavores relish
the challenge of winter, February 11, 2009, by Devra First).

We’re not sure where Mr. Keane got his ideas but we wish he’d asked us.
Over coffee, even.

Darry Madden & Kristi Ceccarossi
Boston Localvores (www.bostonlocalvores.org)

These little whiting were quite delicious! We scaled them with a few quick strokes of a knife, cut off their heads (and pulled out their guts) and battered them in a simple batter that was filled to bursting with fresh oregano. Then we fried them in oil for just a minute or so on each side. Their delicate meat flaked off the bone, leaving the skeleton behind. Also in our share is a large flounder.

We got an email earlier today saying that we could expect whiting. So I googled it, and wikipedia told me that some Americans called whiting hake. So I looked up hake, and was worried for the rest of the day that this was coming.

We’re so happy it wasn’t this fellow! No offense. I’m sure you’re very good at being a fish.

Kristi and me and about 25 others went together last night to see Food, Inc. at the Kendall Square Cinema. After, we had a few  good beers at the Cambridge Brewing Co.  There were old friends, new friends, good-natured relative strangers and one blood relative in attendance. Thank you to all. It was good times.

I like this movie, a lot. I hope there are some schoolteachers out there who show it to their students, parents who show it to their kids, and the other way around. I hope someone out there in the land of powerbrokers gets it wider distribution. Maybe we should organize a campaign whereby we pick a mainstream theater and have everyone we know call and request it. Any takers on that one?

We talked about the film after at the bar, and, hands down, Gary Hirshberg, the CEO of Stonyfield Farm Yogurt was the most controversial figure, eliciting all kinds of confusion and contempt and admiration. It’s easy to hate the Industrial Beef Products people, who hope to corner 100% of the beef market with their sheets of flat, grey, ammonia-soaked ground beef and it’s easy to love Joel Salatin, laying in the grass next to his pigs whose tails are wagging. But Hirshberg, I believe, struck at the heart of the matter for us affluent urban localvores.

So Hirshberg’s thing is basically this: He was a radical environmentalist in his dewy youth (footage of this!), but he recognized that he was preaching to the choir (not us, though. Ever.) So he knew that if he was actually going to make a difference, he had to do it on a huge scale. Like a multi-million dollar organic yogurt company that, by virtue of the fact that it supports organic dairies, does not put fill-in-the-blank-icides by the ton into the environment. WalMart buys truckloads of Stonyfield. Each of those million-dollar purchases has a tremendous net positive impact on the earth. Maybe?

Is big and corporate the answer? Like the Whole Foods model of sustainability? Will our consumerism be what ends this mess or will it be us becoming empowered as consumers?

Someone last night said, “He might not be part of the problem, but he’s not the solution, either.” Agreed. Hirshberg is kind of saying, “The monolithic industrial food complex is here to stay. Let’s try to reform it.” With what? Landfills full of tiny, one-serving yogurt containers? (People, that practice has got to end. Stop buying those).  $23 million buyouts? (Stonyfield was acquired by Groupe Danone). I couldn’t disagree more. It cannot be reformed. That’s a stop gap measure.

When the movie goes inside the Industrial Beef Products factory, which is all metal and machinery and steam and hazmat suits, the music that plays is basically the Jaws theme. Which made me think, that’s unfortunate. Kind of undermines the film’s objectivity creds. And then they went inside the Stonyfield factory, where millions of yogurt containers are filled, via machine, with the goods. It looks very much like a factory. But the music is, like, The Good Ship Lollipop or something as sugary. Again, I cringed as the credibility left the building.

Other highlights:

• Joel Salatin charms the pants off everyone, as usual
• Loving close-ups of Eric Schlosser’s curly smirk
• Will not fail to motivate you to do those awesome local foods advocacy projects you’ve thought about doing
• Rousing version of This Land is Your Land by The Boss

Here she is: week three of the CSA.

This week’s share includes cabbage, kale, onions, dill, cilantro, turnips, broccoli, zucchini, lettuce.

Our CSA farm allows members to pick a lot of stuff, including strawberries, if you can get your ass from Boston to Granby (about two hours by car, or 2.5 by Amtrak train and car, as our friends Erik and Ryan would learn; we picked them up at the station in Springfield). The allotment of strawberries is 8 quarts (4 quarts of peas). Not bad, but we made the stupid decision to toss all 8 quarts into reusable canvas tote bags. Ours sat on the floor of the front seat, at my feet. But Ryan, as a space saving measure, carried his bag on his lap. It was a very messy lap. This method of heating berries has been christened “The Crotchpot.” Fortunately, their berries are going to become jam today.

Ours are going to become frozen berries. For smoothies, desserts, maybe for yogurt in the winter? I know strawberries in particular don’t thaw very well, but I don’t have the will to make jam and process it, and I don’t have a huge need for jam. We just don’t eat that much.

We stayed for a dinner outside at the farm. The farmers, Ryan and Sarah, announced that they’d purchased 110 acres in Montague, Ma, and would be moving their home and 75% of their vegetable production to Montague. In the cosmic scheme of things, this isn’t far, but it’s more than 30 miles north of Granby. So for all intents and purposes, Red Fire Farm is moving. It’s bittersweet for them, I think. They have been farming rented land that is near the current home farm, but have been unable to secure long term tenure or an option to buy that land, which they think will become homes after they are no longer renting it. The Montague land is still 3 years away. It needs to be transitioned to organic production. Ryan mentioned a few things about how they will finance this project - the mortgage they will carry on the new land is $560,000, and the payment more than four times what they currently pay.

It was an interesting moment. I think of this particular farm as doing just fine, with hundreds of CSA subscriptions in metro Boston, more in the Pioneer Valley, a farm stand and, now, a farmer’s market presence at the South Station market. But in order for the farm to continue to exist (which were the terms they were speaking in) they will have to do even better than that. And part of this crisis is one of land, and its inflated value.

We’re going to start photographing our share every week.

This week: Kohlrabi, turnips, zucchini, garlic scapes, dill, scallions, lettuce, salad mix, spinach, carrots, broccoli, courtesy of Red Fire Farm in Granby, Ma.

Also, in their newsletter this week, they said they still had shares available. Because I feel it is my duty, I’m reporting that, but secretly I’m hoping there will a huge surplus of vegetables.

The first installment of our CSF (community supported fisheries) came into today: a golden cod, about as heavy as a big cat and stiff with rigor mortis. Cleaned and dressed, head on. Obviously, this tiny cooler was too small. Our friend Ryan, whose other fish that is, had to put his in a canvas tote bag and bike home with it swinging just below his armpit.

The act of filleting it was difficult and scary. We need a new knife, bad. Like, before next Monday. But, after some wrangling, slipping, sawing, hacking, ripping and slicing, we found ourselves with two, beautiful, tender fillets. And a big fish head and a tail and the ribs of this monster who gave its life for us tonight. Thank you , fish. Something about seeing your eyes was hard and elicited a different kind of conscientiousness about eating another animal.

The first fish of the season became a kind of fish taco. We made a refrigerator salsa with CSA cilantro, jalapeno, red onion and farmer’s market arugula, all minced and tossed with oil, rice vinegar (would have been better with lime), salt and pepper. The fish it self was very, very clean and tender. Nothing smelled fishy, not even the distribution truck.

Good on ya to all those Cambridge peeps who I think tackled their first whole fish, like us, tonight. You are now prepared to live off the grid.

If anyone wants to comment here and talk about fish stock, please do.

On Thursday, June 25 we (that’s us and any of you who’d like to join) are going to have a beer or two at Cambridge Brewing Co. Then we’re going to head, en masse, across the street to Kendall Sq Cinema to watch the new and excellent film Food, Inc.

We’ve worked out a deal with the theater and the restaurant so that movie + beer go for $12.50 (regularly about $14). Plus you get to meet some friendly area localvores and discuss — and, frankly, help us raise about 20 bucks to cover our web hosting fees.

Here’s the deets:

• Find us at the brewery between 6 and 8. Collect your tickets for a free beer and for the movie.
• Get to the theater for an 8:20 screening.
• Sound good? GO HERE to buy your ticket. We only have 25, so hurry up.

P.S. We saw Food, Inc. at the Boston Film Festival earlier this spring. While incredibly sad, it also a very accessible and comprehensive look at our broken food system. It put a little fresh vigor in our advocacy work. Please come!

This is indeed the inside of our freezer. Pretty unspectacular. Except, wait! What’s with that ice cube tray?

I bought ten garlic scapes for $2 at the Copley Square Farmer’s Market last Friday, plus Sarah from Kristi’s office gave her two surplus scapes. So 12 garlic scapes equals twelve cubes of garlic scape pesto (parmesan, walnuts, oil, salt, pepper). I took them out of the tray a few hours later and dumped them into some tupperware. The idea is that later, in the winter, we can grab a cube or two and make a quick pasta sauce or somesuch. 

[Insert your own segue here]

Pete Wells, the editor of the New York Times’s Dining section, wrote this last week. It’s about how he can no longer sustain buying expensive, local, organic food from the farmer’s market. $14 gallons of milk, $50 pork roasts and the straw-that-broke-the-camels-back $35 chicken. He said he was unable to continue spending $100 a visit on this food when it would last only three days. I’m not sure what to say. I remember, growing up, my parents (who, needless to say, did not make anywhere near the salary of a New York Times editor, combined) talking about the insane cost of feeding us. They tossed around numbers like $1,000 per month. $100 every three days? That’s roughly $1,000 per month. Put it that way, and it sounds kind of…average.

I have no real idea what we spend currently to feed us both. I think it’s somewhere around $500 per month, much of it of the $35 chicken variety, and I’ll tell you right now that I make less than Pete Wells. Even after the depreciation of his mutual funds (that’s Kristi laughing in the background.)

I would prefer the New York Times and Pete not publish stories like this knowing what he knows about the other kind of food — the kind that’s affordable for an average family like Pete’s but that leaves in its wake a trail of misery and disease. In the interest of being constructive and not just snarky, I think the real question is, What’s going to happen with the cost of sustainable food? Will it continue to rise and forever stay out of reach for the truly less-than-privileged families? Will the end of agribusiness subsidies ever happen, and if they do, will that change the cost of industrial food? In other words, one day, will the cost of all food reflect the true cost of its production? What then? Will the day come when we all spend the bulk of our earnings feeding ourselves, and not just the fraction we spend now (Americans spend the smallest percent of their income on food of nearly every culture and people on the planet and in history).

Perhaps even the most sustainably-minded of us don’t want to part with the luxuries (aside from great food) that make life so pleasant sometimes. They’ll pry my hot showers from my cold, dead hands, for example.