Two Very Different Books About Meat

This week I had the pleasure of reading two very different books about meat. The first was Howard Lyman's Mad Cowboy: Plain Truth From the Cattle Rancher Who Won't Eat Meat. I'd heard about this book for years, in fact, Howard Lyman was kind enough to write the blurb on the back of my first cookbook. So when I saw a copy in a used bookstore, I grabbed it and ripped through it in a day and a half.

I found myself really liking and admiring the guy. It takes guts to walk away from a life as a Montana cattle rancher and become a vegan activist. And the book offered just what it promised: straight talk and plenty of useful information.

Several days later I happened to see a copy of Betty Fussell's new book, Raising Steaks, about America's love affair with beef. I adored her book about corn, which brings together politics and mythology with a heartfelt appreciation for the food. With Lyman's book fresh in my mind, I grabbed this one.

Fussell does a wonderful job of bring together cowboy lore with a discussion of food safety and the economics of raising beef. She also makes a point to draw a connection between husbandry practices and flavor every step of the way.

The hardest things to reconcile, reading the 2 books so closely together, were their different takes on the impact of grazing cattle on public land. Lyman details the terrible toll that subsidized grazing takes on topsoil, streams and native plants. Fussell focuses mainly on smaller scale ranchers, many of whom are deeply concerned with sustainability, taking good care of the grass so their cows can continue to graze on it in the future.

I think we need both of these voices if we're going to develop a more enlightened relationship with the animals we raise for food. Being vegetarian or vegan is one way of addressing the issue, but there are plenty of wise, intelligent people who are never going to stop eating meat, and plenty of vegetarians who still eat poorly, and even unsustainably. For those folks who are going to continue to eat meat, it makes sense to pay attention to the quality of the product, because really good meat just doesn't come from industrial feedlots.

Whole Foods' Woes

It's been a rough couple of months for Whole Foods. Their sales are slumping, their stock has lost 80% of its value, and the FTC has reopened its case trying to block their acquisition of the Wild Oats chain, even though the merger process is already well underway.

I know it's fashionable to bash Whole Foods for their focus on "industrial organic" products, their high prices and their boutiquey atmosphere, but I really like shopping there. I happen to like their stores more than some of the local coops, where I often can't find items I want. I even appreciate the upscale feel on some level: for better or for worse I think that kind of ambiance has gone a long way towards bringing natural foods mainstream.

I suspect that their recent woes will ultimately make them a better company, perhaps helping them adapt to an economic climate where there's more of a demand for everyday products than luxury items. They do seem to be pretty savvy overall.

What I Learned from "The Flavor Bible"

Everyone's been raving about "The Flavor Bible," the new book by Karen Page and Andrew Dornenberg. I love books about combining flavors-I've learned so much more from these types of books than from conventional cookbooks-so I had to get a copy.

I have to say, though, that I found the lists a bit daunting, and I'm not usually intimidated by that sort of thing. There was just too much information, too many options, and not enough groupings to indicate combinations of three and four ingredients that work together. Still, I'll keep it on my shelf and I'm sure I'll find it useful from time to time.

But I had a great time reading through the introductory material. The authors articulated an idea that I'd intuited but never actually expressed: the reason you can't really count on recipes when you're cooking is that ingredients vary so widely. All apples don't taste the same; neither do all tomatoes. Since I read this I've been paying closer attention to it when I cook, and I do feel that it's changed my approach. I'm more curious, and I taste more as I go along.

The Down Side of Corn Cups

As a foodservice business owner, I recently received a notice from the City of Seattle informing me that, as of July 1 2010, I would have to switch to compostable or recyclable plastic food service products. Around the same time I noticed that the wholesale foodservice grocery had begun carrying compostable cups.

I'm glad to see a spreading awareness about sustainable materials, but I haven't started using compostable food service products yet in my own business. There are just too many things that don't add up to me. I was at Cafe Fiore the other day, and was told that they had no way of recycling their recyclable cups, because the city composting service wouldn't take them. And yet the flyer I received in the mail said that businesses would soon only be allowed to use products that were approved by the composting company.

An article in yesterday's Oregonian detailed additional difficulties: compostable products are often mistaken for plastic, and even a small amount of them can ruin a batch of plastic recyclables. And they don't compost in backyard composting bins: they need a commercial composting operation (although there are difficulties there as well, as I learned at Fiore.)

My own ambivalence also comes from the fact that we're using food crops for disposable packaging when people all over the world are experiencing food security concerns. And why are we using corn? Is it because corn is so heavily subsidized in this country? Perhaps there are technological reasons that I don't understand, but the whole situation makes me feel suspicious.

On top of all this, I've always been turned off by green marketing, and there seems to be an awful lot of it with respect to compostable cups, even from companies who really don't make much of an effort to use sustainable ingredients. Of course, I also know food businesses that use compostable cups and are absolutely sincere about their sustainable practices. But most of the time it just seems gimmicky to me.

I will certainly switch to compostable food service materials at some point, probably before I'm legally required to do so. And I'm sure many of these wrinkles will be ironed out over time. I certainly look forward to seeing what innovations the future will bring, despite my ambivalence.

Magnolia Retrospective

Saturday was the last day of the season at the Magnolia Farmers' Market. It was kind of slow, as it's been for most of the past month and a half. Many of the customers who did show up were sad that it was ending. I told them honestly that personally, I was thrilled. When spring comes around I'm going to be very excited to start again, but right now I'm more than ready to slow down.

Magnolia is, and probably always will be, a small market. It's the kind of venue that attracts a limited following of committed customers, so it's important to stick it out over time and get established. I've been there for 2 years, and this season was a little better than last season. But both years things slowed down dramatically after Labor Day, so I do hope they plan a shorter season next year.

Manna Mills

Whenever I'm in Edmunds I always find some excuse to stop by Manna Mills. Many years ago, when I first moved to the Seattle area, I was thrilled to discover this store, which had more of the feel of an east coast food coop than any store in the area, even the ones that are actually coops.

It's evolved over the years, keeping the same feeling but also developing different emphases. They now specialize in gluten free products, and all of their produce is certified organic. Their products include many obscure gems: you get the feeling they're more willing than most places to take risks on items that are consistent with their mission. (I once found horseradish flavored soy cheese there! I'm no fan of soy cheese, but even I couldn't resist that one.)

But the best thing about Manna Mills is in a jar by the counter: honey flavored candies called Pecan Pearls.

Columbia City Retrospective

Yesterday was the last day of the season at Columbia City Market. It's a relatively long event, running for half of the year, from the beginning of May until the end of October.

We had a good end of the season there, despite the grim economic news this past month. It came down to the weather on Wednesdays in October, which happened to be much better this year than last year, enough to easily compensate for the stock market fear factor. It was comforting for me to realize that many variables influence farmers' market sales, and the overall economy is just one of them.

Columbia City is a kid's market. It's across the street from an elementary school and next door to a park. I sell tons of kids' cheese-only quesadillas there, and also tons of lemonade. Yesterday they were decorating pumpkins in the kids' tent.

Columbia City is also a wonderfully diverse market. It's the only event where my sales take a hit during the month-long holiday of Ramadan.

Trading Tomatoes for Salsa

As we approach the last of this year's tomatoes, one farmer has been giving me bags of tasty, gnarly looking seconds to make into salsa. Each week I bring her several containers of the finished product--about half the batch--and she gives me more tomatoes. It feels good: a way to close the loop, cut down on waste, and produce a hefty supply of very yummy salsa.

45,000 Pounds of Wasted Food

A semi truck carrying 45,000 pounds of candy, ice cream and deli meats tipped over on Highway 18 yesterday when the driver took a turn too quickly. The truck split open and spilled its load, which needed to be hauled away in wheelbarrows before the truck could be turned upright. Most of the food will be thrown away-yet another argument against the industrial food system, where 45,000 of food can go to waste because of a single driver's error.

Living Beyond our Means

1. I was listening to the radio this morning when I heard the thought provoking question: is it possible that we all share some of the blame for the current financial turmoil, given the fact that we've gotten used to living on credit, rather than within our budgets? I got to thinking about food, as usual. In some sense the industrial food system has us all living beyond our means in the sense that prevailing production practices use up natural capital quicker than we can replace it, depleting the health of the soil and relying on nonrenewable resources like petrochemicals to create artificially high yields.

While the solution to a credit card economy is for folks to spend less, the solution to the industrial food system is for us to spend more on higher quality products, before we run into the food security equivalent of the current financial crisis: an unsustainable system no longer able to sustain itself.

There's no easy way to convince people to spend more on food while they're adjusting to spending less on everything else. But I think the message is gradually getting out there, as farmers' markets continue to thrive and people find themselves cooking more and eating out less. It helps that so much of this food is just so tasty.

Lake City Retrospective

Yesterday was the last market day of the year at Lake City, which moved this spring to Albert Davis Park from a depressing parking lot a block north of there.

For the most part, the move made the market much more successful than it had been in previous years, in fact, for the first few months my sales on the worst days were in the ballpark of what they had been on best days in previous years.

The market did drop off dramatically after Labor Day, though, while it had stayed pretty consistent at the old location up until the end. Aside from the wierd economy, I think that change can be attributed to the new location's proximity to the park. Back when it was held in the depressing parking lot, folks would mostly just shop and leave, and that didn't change much when school started, and the days got shorter, and it started to rain. But once the market became more of a community event where people would spend a few hours, bad weather and fall routines made much more of a difference.

Roasted Cauliflower with Tsatsiki

This one's for Myrna, who wanted more cauliflower recipes.

Roasted Cauliflower:

3 tablespoons olive oil

juice of half a lemon

1/2 teaspoon cumin

1/2 teaspoon dried spearmint

1/2 teaspoon salt

1 pound cauliflower florettes

Tsatsiki:

1 cup yogurt

1/2 cup grated cucumber

2 tablespoons chopped parsley

1/2 teaspoon dried spearmint

2 teaspoons olive oil

1/4 teaspoon salt

For the roasted cauliflower, preheat the oven to 375 degrees and oil a baking pan. Mix the oil, lemon, cumin, mint and salt, then toss the cauliflower florettes in the sauce. Arrange them on the baking pan and roast them for 30-40 minutes, until they're tender.

To make the tsatsiki, mix together all the ingredients.

Serve the cauliflower with the tsatsiki on the side as a dipping sauce.

Oprah on Proposition 2

Oprah's show yesterday dealt with California's Proposition 2, a ballot initiative aimed at giving egg-laying hens ample space to spread their wings.

Although it was easy to tell that she felt passionately about the issue, I found the show level headed and balanced. As expected, animal rights activists faulted her for giving equal time to industrial farmers and for failing to point out that it's not simply a choice between industrial and free range meat: one can also stop eating meat altogether.

I thought it was brave of her to do the show, especially after the lawsuit over her 1996 Mad Cow Disease show. Perhaps she set a deliberately restrained tone because of that earlier experience. The farmers she interviewed who did confine their animals didn't come from massive, industrial farms, but rather from medium-size, family run operations. They also tended to not be particularly smooth speakers, and both of these considerations made me feel more sympathetic to them, although I'm certainly on Oprah's side of the debate.

I do think that this kind of even handed piece can go a long way to changing people's minds and hearts, perhaps even more so than some of the more disturbing, charged material.

Very Sweet Carrots

The folks at Stoney Plains Farm were particularly excited this weekend about some very sweet carrots that they had available. I asked what made them so sweet, thinking that it had to do with the time of year, or a particular phase in the plant's life cycle. It turned out it did have to do with the time of year, but not in the way that I thought: it's a variety of carrot that matures during this time of year that just happens to be very, very sweet.

We tend to think of carrots--and most other fruits and vegetables--as fairly uniform, unless there are very obvious differences in shape, size, or color. But there are actually countless varieties of all kinds of produce, adapted to different microclimates, types of soil, and times of year--like varieties of carrots that are especially sweet in the fall.

The Ballard Crafters

Many of the folks who sell crafts (as opposed to food products) at the Ballard Farmers' Market feel that the market staff doesn't sufficiently value their contribution to the event. They show up all winter when the crowds are sparse, but they have low priority for stall space during the summer and fall, when local produce is abundant and there are few spots to spare.

Some farmers' markets, including 7 markets in Seattle run by the Neighborhood Farmers' Market Alliance, don't even allow craft vendors at their markets, which they believe should be food-only venues, in keeping with the organization's mission.

The tension between food producers and craft vendors is an issue in other parts of the country as well: as markets grow increasingly successful, there's more competition for space. It helps that there are so many new markets--more markets means more stall spaces--but many of the younger markets just don't offer the kind of foot traffic you see at older, established venues.

A partial solution has been evolving organically, so to speak, in Ballard. There's an empty lot right off the street where the market as held. It's privately owned, and the owner has been renting space to craft vendors on Sundays, during market hours. Most shoppers aren't even aware that this annex isn't officially part of the market. There have been some issues to be ironed out, but the market administration can't veto the extra vendors because they depend on the good will of the neighborhood property owners in order to keep their street use permit.

It's not a perfect solution, and many of the crafters still resent the fact that the market doesn't treat them as a priority, but it does help to create a more interesting event, and it's better than no stall space at all.

A Real Bathroom!

The Magnolia Farmers' Market takes a nose dive after Labor Day and continues to deteriorate throughout the months of September and October, but there has been one very shiny bright spot the past two weeks.

The community center which hosts the market has been under construction all summer so we haven't been able to get in to use the bathrooms. The market folks have been providing a sani-can, with a handwashing station, but sani-cans are yucky even when they're reasonably clean, and I do delay my excursions there until I can't delay them any longer.

The past 2 weeks the community center's bathrooms have been available again, and this dramatically improves my market experience, despite the slow sales.

The Markets Drag On

Three of the markets where I vend continue for most of the month of October, although traffic at all of them has thinned considerably. Even if it weren't for the screwy economy and the iffy weather, this would be a rough time of year at the markets. People's schedules change in the fall, and I think that for many folks it just doesn't feel like a farmers' market time of year, despite the fact that we have the best selection of produce from about mid September to mid October.

The Ballard Market is the exception to the rule, perhaps because it runs all year. During previous years it's peaked in the fall. This year it's holding steady, which is about all one can really hope for.

I stick with the dwindling markets to the bitter end, even though it's not really worth it for me financially. It creates work for my staff. They've stuck with me all summer, so the least I can do is to stick with them now. I've also been through this cycle enough times to know how to plan for it. For me staying to the end is also a way of "taking one for the team." I like to think of it as being a good market citizen, for whatever that's worth. However slow these markets are now, they'd be even slower if more vendors dropped out during the last few weeks. Still, I really do wish some of them would end earlier.

Chocolate from Madagascar

I've been slowly exploring the Madagascar section at Chocolopolis, and I've found some gems. In addition to my all time favorite, Mangaro, I've been impressed by the Bonnat bar from the region, and also the one made by Pralus. They really do have a distinctive flavor that the share, affirming the concept of terroir, often cited by winemakers, which holds that there are specific flavors characteristic of different regions. Most of the descriptions I read of Madagascar chocolate refer to its flavor as fruity, but it actually reminds me more of olives.

Painted Hills Corn

This year Summer Run Farm grew a variety of corn called "Painted Hills". Its kernels include reds, yellows, whites and blues, and its flavor isn't nearly as sweet as the sweet corn we generally roast or boil and eat with butter.

One of the Alvarez guys says that this is a variety that is traditionally ground and used to make tamales. My cursory internet research said that it is actually a recently developed, open pollinated variety, or a plant whose seeds can be saved and planted to produce a similar crop.

More often than not, when I set out to learn about a plant variety that I'm finding at the market, I run into conflicting information, or common names that don't fit Latin names, or a name that one farmer has been using that doesn't match the names other folks use. I find these discrepancies fascinating. They're the mark of a body of knowledge--seeds and plant varieties--that has evolved over eons in a wide range of places, the ultimate open-source document.

How to Pick a Delicata

Although I was very excited to see the earliest delicatas of the season, the first few that I ate were disappointing: dry and mealy instead of of creamy and sweet. So I asked a farmer friend how to tell if a delicata is ready. She said that some farmers pick them too early because customers (like myself) are so eager to have them.

To tell if a delicata is ripe without cutting it open, look for plenty of contrast between the green stripes and the yellow flesh. There should also be some orange around the rough spot where the squash sat on the ground.

The underripe delicatas worked fine when I peeled them, cut them up, and cooked them with a bunch of other veggies, but my favorite thing to do with delicatas is simply to cut them open, scoop out the seeds, rub them with olive oil, sprinkle them with salt and pepper, and roast them for about half an hour, until they're tender. (Make sure there's some water in the pan, so they don't dry out.) It's simple, and it's exquisite as long as the squash is ripe and ready.

Campaigning at the Market

I often see people campaigning for local offices at the farmers' market. It's a smart strategy, a way to reach people who are opting for a different paradigm, at least in one aspect of their lives.

I know that I'm more likely to vote for someone who I've seen campaigning at a farmers' market because I figure that they're most interested in reaching voters like me.

Crazy Wind

Yesterday's windstorm started to kick up about halfway through the Magnolia Market. Vendors are required to attach 25 lbs. of weight to each leg of their tents to keep them from blowing away, but yesterday that really didn't feel like enough. Most of us were hanging on to our tents, as well. Fortunately, there wasn't much else to do, because no sane person was out of doors if they didn't have to be.

My employee at the U District Market just packed up and left: there was no business and the tent wasn't staying in place. Someone there actually lost their tent: 2 of the legs weren't weighted down, so the wind picked up the frame and bent it beyond repair.

Local Bounty: The Cookbook!

I'm thrilled to say that my cookbook is now available. Amazon doesn't have an image up yet but there is one (favorable) customer review already.

As far as I know, this is the first cookbook focused on bringing together local and vegan foods, though the connection seems obvious to me. It's always frustrated me to go to vegetarian food festivals and find myself surrounded by processed foods. There's a lot more to eating ethically than just avoiding meat, in fact, every argument you can give for eating a vegetarian or vegan diet applies just as well to eating a diet of local, seasonal foods. It's healthy, environmentally sustainable, and also humane: the small-scale farmers who we support when we eat locally grown foods tend to care about animal habitat and also treat their workers better than they're treated by industrial farms.

The book is published by Book Publishing Company, which is affiliated with the longstanding intentional community The Farm, in Tennessee. It was a pleasure to work with these folks, who are mostly vegan and also grow a lot of their own food. They get it.

Squash and Green Tomato Soup

I did end up getting some lovely ripe tomatoes from my 11 tomato plants but still, at the end of the season, there are plenty of green ones to be used. Here is the recipe for a wonderful soup I made last night.

1 acorn or carnival squash

2 lb. green tomatoes

2 tablespoons olive oil

2 cloves garlic

1 small onion

2 tablespoons chopped parsley

1 teaspoon chopped fresh marjoram (or substitute oregano or thyme)

1/2 teaspoon salt

4 cups stock

Black pepper to taste

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees. Cut the squash in half, remove the seeds, and rub each half with a little olive oil. Arrange the squash face up in a baking dish with about half and inch of water. Rub the green tomatoes with olive oil as well and arrange them in a separate baking dish. Roast the squash and the tomatoes for about an hour and 15 minutes,

Meanwhile, heat the remaining olive oil in a medium saucepan and add the garlic, onion, marjoram and salt. Cook on low heat for about 5 minutes, until the onion is soft and translucent.

When the squash and tomatoes are ready, remove them from the oven and wait until they're cool enough to handle. Remove the cores from the tomatoes, as well as the skins, if you want a smoother soup. Scoop the pulp out of the squash and puree it along with the tomatoes, adding stock as needed.

Add this puree to the onion mixture, along with the remaining stock and black pepper to taste. Simmer for about 45 minutes.

Sustainable Tomatoes at the Industrial Food Service Grocery

Despite all of my convictions about how we need to shift our thinking about food prices, it's hard for me to walk by a case of nice looking tomatoes for under $10. I saw this stack of lovely specimens at the Cash and Carry the other day, and went to investigate.

I was surprised to see the phrase "sustainable farming" on the box. I'd just spend the weekend at the Sustainable Ballard Festival surrounded by green marketing, some sincere, some less than sincere.

I went ahead and bought a case of tomatoes, and later checked the company's website, which listed the farm's conscientious practices, speaking of ongoing "self assessments." Despite the fact that they didn't mention working with any certification agency, I liked their approach, which focused on keeping chemical pesticides and fertilizers to a minimum, and improving their practices over time.

I think that this kind of sincere, thoughtful, transitional approach is going to be a very important component in changing the way we eat, in some ways maybe more so than even the "all organic" label. We live in a transitional world, and we need transitional foods.

Still, I wonder how they managed to ship those tomatoes from California cheaply enough to wholesale them for under $10. I hope there were no middlemen, and they just found themselves with a surplus of tomatoes: it is that time of year, after all. I'll probably never know the whole story.