Out of the dozen markets where my business vends, Madrona is my favorite (though I also enjoy Queen Anne and Ballard very, very much.) I realized the other day why I Madrona is so special to me.
I've been growing convinced lately that our best bet for making sustainable food into an accessible, affordable option for a wide range of people will be to embrace where we are at this moment in time, that is, with one foot in the industrial system and the other foot in the world of better food. In other words, we're going to get more mileage by thoughtfully choosing which sustainable items we can afford, and which we can't afford not to choose, than by emulating celebrity chefs and folks on quixotic quests to eat nothing but local food for a year.
I can't think of a more apt expression of this idea than a farmers' market in the parking lot of a grocery outlet.
Researchers at Kansas State University released the results of a study this week which found that cattle fed on organic feed don't have significantly lower levels of e coli in their systems than cattle fed on "conventional" diets.
This information seemed to me to be at odds with a fact I'd read years ago in a New York Times editorial by Nina Planck, which stated that if cattle are fed grass--rather than corn--for just the last 5 days of their lives, the incidence of e coli diminishes one thousand fold.
Faced with these 2 conflicting pieces of information, I took a closer look. It seems that the Kansas researchers studied cattle eating organic feed, but the articles I found didn't specify that they were eating grass. If the dangerous, modern e coli bug thrives in the unnaturally acidic environment created in the cow's stomach from eating a diet of grain, rather than grass, it would probably be present whether or not the grain they were fed was organic.
I'm certainly reading between the lines here and making assumptions. It would be easy to conclude that you can't trust anything you read because so many studies are funded by companies with agendas and profit motives. But I think these studies do provide valuable information, you just have to take a closer look and get past the hype.
One day last week I came to the kitchen and found that all the buckets of veggies that had gone to the markets the previous day but hadn't been sold had been marked with notes indicating which market they should be used for the following day.
We always tag the ones that have already gone out and come back, because they've been out of the fridge and should be used first. This new innovation ensures that the buckets that go out the following day will be spread evenly between the various markets instead of all going to one event. This lessens the risk that they'll go unused a second day.
I always find it exciting when we find a way to improve one of our systems. I find it especially exciting when the idea comes from someone other than myself.
For the past month or so I've been offering a 50% discount at all the markets where I vend for anyone who says they're unemployed. At most markets 2 or 3 people avail themselves of the opportunity, but the number is somewhat higher at Lake City.
Yesterday I was at the Ballard Market for the first time in months. (I've been at Mercer Island on Sundays.) I didn't specifically count, but I'd guess that at least 20 people asked for the discount.
There was one group of well dressed people in their early 20's, who all ordered lunch and asked for the discount and, for the first time, I felt taken advantage of. It didn't help that they couldn't quite grasp the concept of standing in line and waiting for their turn.
My father, who is a charitable guy (hi Stanley!) says that if someone puts themselves in the position of asking for help, it isn't his place to judge whether or not they need it. I kept reminding myself of this after seeing this group, with their sense of entitlement.
This week I had two customers ask me within a day of each other whether I use organic corn in my tamales. I don't, and it's safe to assume these days that most inorganic corn is genetically modified. I'm surprised that people don't ask more often, in fact, I can't remember anyone asking for years.
I started making and selling tamales 12 years ago, before genetically modified foods were on our collective radar screen. From time to time I experiment with organic products that are sold and labelled as "masa," but the tamales have never turned out right. Either the flour is too finely ground, or it doesn't set in the same way as the stuff I've always used. I'd happily pay more for organic masa that makes great tamales, but I haven't been able to find any.
I did an internet search recently looking for organic masa, and found some heroic stories of people grinding their own organic corn. That's not an option for my company.
I buy my masa in 50 lb. bags from a Mexican distributor in White Center. I haven't discussed this issue with them because I don't feel that it's my place to tell them what kind of corn they should use.
I'm certainly disturbed by the way genetically modified foods have infiltrated the food supply, but I don't vet every food I eat to make sure it doesn't contain them. Once you start thinking about it, every industrial product that contains corn or soy probably has genetically modified ingredients. Mainstream meat and dairy products come from animals that have probably been eating genetically modified foods. An organic farmer overheard one of the exchanges I had with a customer about the issue, and she pointed out that the compostable cups that everyone thinks are so great probably come from genetically modified crops as well.
Making a product and selling it to the public involves a different level of responsibility than choosing what to put in my own body. I've been in denial about the fact that this product is not consistent with my values, and I've been able to continue in this mode because so few people have taken me to task about it.
So after hearing from the second customer I did what I always do when I face a moral dilemma in the course of running my business: I discussed it openly with my employees. They weren't even aware of the issue, so it was an opportunity to explain. Now I'm writing this post, because I want to be open about it. I'll keep looking for a better product. But I probably won't stop making tamales and selling them, even if I don't find a better alternative. There are so many things about the food system that aren't the way I want them to be. We each pick our battles and struggle with our own contradictions.
Water has been very much on my mind lately with the recent dry spell. My water bill was up $100 after a month of gardening. I'd been standing outside with the hose and waving it around, so now I'm taking a more targeted approach with the watering can.
I've come across a few interesting tidbits lately about reducing water use. PETA is travelling around with a campaign of nude beauties showering in public to call attention to their claim that the amount of water that goes into producing one pound of beef is the same amount that is used for six months of showers.
The multinational snack food conglomerate Kraft announced this week that they've implemented water saving measures over the past few years that have enabled them to save 3 billion gallons of water. That's 21 percent of their water use, which means they still used 15 billion gallons, but that's another story.
I was particularly taken by a Brazilian campaign to encourage folks to pee in the shower. It's sanitary, and it saves water! Check out this educational clip. Spread the word!
Unfortunately internet smell-o-vision has not yet been invented (as far as I know,) but if it had, this picture would be accompanied by my favorite smell in the world: the aroma of roasting chiles.
This past Sunday my crew got back from the Ballard Market with a big bag of super-ripe heirloom tomatoes from a farmer who likes to trade me tomatoes for salsa. I roasted them, along with some locally grown chiles, and the smells and tastes filled me with joy. It struck me that this was collaboration at its finest: her skills went into producing the tastiest possible tomatoes, and mine went into transforming them (at the risk of being immodest) into a very fine salsa.
Aside from any differences in the quality of the acting, I think that was the reason the Julia scenes were so much more alive for me than the Julie sequences. Julia's struggle was organic, and the grace with which she faced it was genuine and engaging.
My kitchen staff has instructed me not to bring any more zucchini back from the markets (at least for now.) But I can't help myself. Farmers I like, who I've been working with for a very long time, keep bringing me beautiful zucchini. So I'm trying to at least be very selective about who I'm buying it from. On the bright side, we're developing some better systems for dating incoming produce and keeping track of stock.
My purchasing strategy has always been to buy what's available, trust that it will somehow be enough, and trust that we're somehow going to go through it all. My philosophy is certainly being challenged here, but I'm trying to stick with it as much as possible. One farmer told me that, with the weather being so dry, there isn't going to be a whole lot of zucchini in a week or two. We'll see.
I meet them nearly every day at the markets. Perfectly normal seeming people who can't stand the sight (or taste) of a beet. Even the president put his foot down and refused to allow them in the White House garden.
What is it about this harmless vegetable that incites such strong emotions? (To be fair, I have to mention that there are at least as many people who are positively thrilled to see them cooking on the grill.)
Personally, I can't imagine hating a vegetable so much that I'd refuse to let it be planted in my garden, especially if I wasn't even relying on that garden for sustenance. I do find zucchini insipid, but I'll eat it if it's put in front of me, I'd just rather be eating something else.
I was shopping at Central Market the other day and was excited to find someone sampling this brand of chocolate that I'd seen on the shelf and nearly bought on several occasions. I'd hesitated because it was pricey, because it contained vanilla (sometimes a bad sign) and because it was organic: I haven't liked much of the organic chocolate I've tried. (Vivani is a noteworthy exception.)
I tried the 70% bar and it was tasty. It was also pretty gritty, but I got the sense that the grittiness was deliberate, so I asked about it. It turns out they grind the chocolate using traditional grinding stones, so it doesn't get as smooth as chocolate processed with modern equipment.
It was interesting to stumble across this demo so soon after reading "The Chocolate Connoisseur". In that book Chloe Doutre-Roussel talks about enjoying traditional Mexican chocolate because it reminded her of the stuff she grew up with, even though she thought that most of it wasn't particularly good. I gathered from Taza's website that the company had been founded in 2006, after the book was published, and I think their chocolate falls into an entirely different category. Like Claudio Corallo, it seems that the proprietors have gone back to the fundamental building blocks in order to develop something new, yet fiercely true to the ideal of drawing out the essence of the bean. I think (hope) that Chloe would approve.
As something of a culinary populist, I had to get past the word "connoisseur" in the title. I'm probably not going to change my chocolate tasting habits and follow the procedures outlined in the book, but I have to admit that I was pleased to learn that she highly recommends my all time favorite variety, Michel Cluizel's Mangaro.
Despite whatever ambivalence I may have had about the idea of learning to be an "expert," as someone who dearly loves chocolate, I found it delightful to read through several hundred pages written by someone who's dedicated her life to this wonderful food.
