Images from the food markets of Maine -- local deliciousness.
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Friday, August 24, 2007
destination : maine
Maine seems to me a cross between Oregon and a cold-weather island. Wind swept shores lead into deep forest tones that rake up the hillsides away from the ocean over colonial homes and crab-apple trees. Plants grow, bugs flourish and the small towns creep up and down the sparse highways.
Despite the incredible back-woodsiness of Maine, there are hippies aplenty. The small town I am in, Belfast - population 3000, houses a Co-op, a farmers market, a fish market, a direct-from-farm worker-owned cafe & innumberable fruit stands. For a moment, when I first arrived, I took in this beautiful side of food and thought that this little coastal town might be a foodie mecca.
I'm staying in an apartment building with my mom on the working class strip in West Belfast. During a few porch sitting, beer swilling evenings her neighbors tell me about what food is really like for Maine folks. These locals, they know a thing or two of the grit and reality of food -- a potato processing plant houses most of the working class jobs in the county, an expired chicken processing plant sits nestled between a city park and the Penobscot Bay. Abandoned archaic seafood refridgeration warehouses stagger along the weeded railroad tracks. The tourists attend the farmer's market, swoon for local organic beers and spicy blueberry chutney; while the homestead families pull shifts at the plant, hoping the potatoes they grate and freeze for Mcdonald's don't go the way of the poultry industry.
The food and it's politics bear striking similarity to Oregon.
I am doing my best, thought not incredibly strict since i am on vacation, to go total local Maine, Vermont, NH style. But eating out is taking it's toll and the missing time committment shows. The bonus is that I get to eat maple syrup and salt. Although sea salt is absurdly expensive and maple syrup only goes well on so many dishes. Nevertheless, I have found yogurt, fruit, veggies, cheese, meats and beer here in my upper new england, practically canada, home.
Though fruit is limited to blueberries and russetted apples. California is still the fruit garden of choice. If I thought it felt bad before to eat fruit from California, when I was only one state away. It seems an ultimate travisty to eat California produce in maine -- 12 hours on a plane and a weeks drive away. That's a great deal of energy for such a little plum to bear. So I pass, despite my wanting variety desperately.
Now, blueberries, those are in abundance, of course. However much I'd like not to compare Oregon and Maine blueberries - i will. Maine produces millions of tiny dot blueberries. Not usuallybigger than a 3-D version of a nail head, they are small and lack-luster in appearance -- especially when stacked against voluptuous plump Oregon blueberries. They are so small, in fact, that i expected tartness and sour. Instead finding them little pockets of sweetness. These berries are delicious in their own way, I would never discount that. However, they seem almost heartier, less springy, less sun-drenched, sadly almost juiceless. But i think that may be the way they like things in maine, tougher around the edges.
Despite the incredible back-woodsiness of Maine, there are hippies aplenty. The small town I am in, Belfast - population 3000, houses a Co-op, a farmers market, a fish market, a direct-from-farm worker-owned cafe & innumberable fruit stands. For a moment, when I first arrived, I took in this beautiful side of food and thought that this little coastal town might be a foodie mecca.
I'm staying in an apartment building with my mom on the working class strip in West Belfast. During a few porch sitting, beer swilling evenings her neighbors tell me about what food is really like for Maine folks. These locals, they know a thing or two of the grit and reality of food -- a potato processing plant houses most of the working class jobs in the county, an expired chicken processing plant sits nestled between a city park and the Penobscot Bay. Abandoned archaic seafood refridgeration warehouses stagger along the weeded railroad tracks. The tourists attend the farmer's market, swoon for local organic beers and spicy blueberry chutney; while the homestead families pull shifts at the plant, hoping the potatoes they grate and freeze for Mcdonald's don't go the way of the poultry industry.
The food and it's politics bear striking similarity to Oregon.
I am doing my best, thought not incredibly strict since i am on vacation, to go total local Maine, Vermont, NH style. But eating out is taking it's toll and the missing time committment shows. The bonus is that I get to eat maple syrup and salt. Although sea salt is absurdly expensive and maple syrup only goes well on so many dishes. Nevertheless, I have found yogurt, fruit, veggies, cheese, meats and beer here in my upper new england, practically canada, home.
Though fruit is limited to blueberries and russetted apples. California is still the fruit garden of choice. If I thought it felt bad before to eat fruit from California, when I was only one state away. It seems an ultimate travisty to eat California produce in maine -- 12 hours on a plane and a weeks drive away. That's a great deal of energy for such a little plum to bear. So I pass, despite my wanting variety desperately.
Now, blueberries, those are in abundance, of course. However much I'd like not to compare Oregon and Maine blueberries - i will. Maine produces millions of tiny dot blueberries. Not usuallybigger than a 3-D version of a nail head, they are small and lack-luster in appearance -- especially when stacked against voluptuous plump Oregon blueberries. They are so small, in fact, that i expected tartness and sour. Instead finding them little pockets of sweetness. These berries are delicious in their own way, I would never discount that. However, they seem almost heartier, less springy, less sun-drenched, sadly almost juiceless. But i think that may be the way they like things in maine, tougher around the edges.
Saturday, August 18, 2007
California
So, I'm on vacation in Oroville California visiting my brother, Luke, and his wife, Erin. I left Portland days ago resolved to continue exploring the great food experiment. California is a whole different story when it comes to local. Processed foods are still out for the most part, but avocados are in. So is rice. We went to the farmers market today and bought a large bag of bell peppers for $2.00. We bought chard and chinese flowering broccoli. Honey. Almonds. Peaches. Tomatoes. Basil. There were almost no leafy greens--so much harder to grow in the heat, but there was mozzarella, the real kind, made from local water buffalo, and crates full of melons sold for a dollar each. I have enjoyed limes and lemons and all wonders of citrus drinks. I am becoming certain that my palate is Mediterranean. Did I mention olives? As one of my favorite authors, Ellen Meloy writes, if the end of life as we know it came (good-bye big semis, florida grapefruit, wheat gluten from across the world), Californians would still be floating in hot tubs sipping local wine and dipping their fingers into bowls of olives and other fancy fruit, nuts and cheeses. Still, California has its drawbacks...but ah, the food!
Kate
Friday, August 17, 2007
Food Stress
The first I heard the term "food stress" was leading backpacking trips with teenagers. I was one of four guides who would take students of the Ashland High Wilderness Charter School out into the backcountry of southern Oregon and northern California on 14-day trips that included a 1-3 day solo experience for kids. The most remarkable adjustments that students had to face were not the discomforts of blisters, 45 pound backpacks, or voracious mosquitoes. The real adjustments came from technological withdrawl (tvs, ipods, movies, etc.), and, fear of being alone, and, the sense of food deprivation.
No matter how much food we packed, there were always circumstances in which the notion of food limitation combined with the exertion of hiking unraveled students into a tizzy of starvation accusations. They were sure we hadn't packed enough food, certain that we were unjust and malicious in forcing them to abstain from bringing their own food supplies, and positive that other students were taking more than their fair share from the food pot. Food-stress was akin to a fever that swept through camp. It spoke of the sense of deprivation the students were feeling from the familiar foods they knew in their home lives, I mean, let's face it, backpacking food doesn't delight everybody. For example: they didn't like lentil soup, they were"sick of trail mix" or they felt like they needed more meat. We would sit down with them and provide examples of abundance, show proof of our planning and make a list of steps students could take to fulfill their dietary needs. As we became more savvy guides we were able to address this problem early on and head it off, ultimately learning how to avoid the conflict altogether.
The ramshackle experienced something akin to this. We were a bit more subtle in expressing the stress, but it arose in comments about "rules" (none of which had been thoroughly outlined), and it arose in our apathy towards our food choices. Food stress led to "cheatings" and later to confessions to one or another housemate. There were instances of takeout food showing up mysteriously in the refrigerator, speculations about who was on board and who wasn't, followed by renewed efforts to provide delicious snacks and dinners. All of this came to a head and resulted in the acceptance of salt as a part of our diet again. And olive oil. Neruda says: essential child of the olive... I have to agree with the essential part. So much butter for a 7-year vegan was a radical adjustment.
These small compromises and the tension that led up to them provided me with the best learning of this project so far. It created fabulous dialogue about what exactly we are doing, why and for whom, the questions and sometimes criticism we have faced from friends as well as the support. We came around to focusing on the abundance of our food choices and laughed at ourselves for lamenting our limitations. We have become so accustomed to the choices provided us by the global food market that it was surprisingly hard to see how many options we have, even at this time of year.
As a result of the local diet, we are eating less processed food. There are simply too many ingredients--Tofurky produced by Turtle Island foods, for example, relies on wheat gluten from New Zealand so it's definitely not an option. This means that for protein we have been reliant on the one bean we can buy--black beans, and the one grain--barley. With these options, and, for a few of us, meat and eggs, we are able to build a simple, and now salted, diet high in fiber, minerals and protein sources.
We, like the teens, needed to be reminded by each other through our ongoing discourses, of the abundance of August foods in the Pacific Northwest. As we crunch away on hazelnuts, or Kari reminds us that she has cracked one too many walnuts, and Shizuko forms perfect wheat tortillas ready for the hot,cast iron skillet, we come into a deeper knowledge of the richness of our home foods. Certainly, I lament any amount of time away from Avocados, limes, and the sticky mess of mangos, and yet, this month is teaching us not just to ride our bikes under plum trees while the fruit gives over its dark sugar to the sidewalk. Instead, we stop, gather several, bring them home and remember where the tree is to add to our list of food sources. We experiment with our strangely cross-pollinated squash; we soak and praise barley. I barely miss tofu. I only sort of miss bread. I miss my vegan identity, but I like looking at what is here, is regional, is not soy-based.
It has been a lovely experiment and a good test of our relationships to food, our homeplace, and each other.
Kate
No matter how much food we packed, there were always circumstances in which the notion of food limitation combined with the exertion of hiking unraveled students into a tizzy of starvation accusations. They were sure we hadn't packed enough food, certain that we were unjust and malicious in forcing them to abstain from bringing their own food supplies, and positive that other students were taking more than their fair share from the food pot. Food-stress was akin to a fever that swept through camp. It spoke of the sense of deprivation the students were feeling from the familiar foods they knew in their home lives, I mean, let's face it, backpacking food doesn't delight everybody. For example: they didn't like lentil soup, they were"sick of trail mix" or they felt like they needed more meat. We would sit down with them and provide examples of abundance, show proof of our planning and make a list of steps students could take to fulfill their dietary needs. As we became more savvy guides we were able to address this problem early on and head it off, ultimately learning how to avoid the conflict altogether.
The ramshackle experienced something akin to this. We were a bit more subtle in expressing the stress, but it arose in comments about "rules" (none of which had been thoroughly outlined), and it arose in our apathy towards our food choices. Food stress led to "cheatings" and later to confessions to one or another housemate. There were instances of takeout food showing up mysteriously in the refrigerator, speculations about who was on board and who wasn't, followed by renewed efforts to provide delicious snacks and dinners. All of this came to a head and resulted in the acceptance of salt as a part of our diet again. And olive oil. Neruda says: essential child of the olive... I have to agree with the essential part. So much butter for a 7-year vegan was a radical adjustment.
These small compromises and the tension that led up to them provided me with the best learning of this project so far. It created fabulous dialogue about what exactly we are doing, why and for whom, the questions and sometimes criticism we have faced from friends as well as the support. We came around to focusing on the abundance of our food choices and laughed at ourselves for lamenting our limitations. We have become so accustomed to the choices provided us by the global food market that it was surprisingly hard to see how many options we have, even at this time of year.
As a result of the local diet, we are eating less processed food. There are simply too many ingredients--Tofurky produced by Turtle Island foods, for example, relies on wheat gluten from New Zealand so it's definitely not an option. This means that for protein we have been reliant on the one bean we can buy--black beans, and the one grain--barley. With these options, and, for a few of us, meat and eggs, we are able to build a simple, and now salted, diet high in fiber, minerals and protein sources.
We, like the teens, needed to be reminded by each other through our ongoing discourses, of the abundance of August foods in the Pacific Northwest. As we crunch away on hazelnuts, or Kari reminds us that she has cracked one too many walnuts, and Shizuko forms perfect wheat tortillas ready for the hot,cast iron skillet, we come into a deeper knowledge of the richness of our home foods. Certainly, I lament any amount of time away from Avocados, limes, and the sticky mess of mangos, and yet, this month is teaching us not just to ride our bikes under plum trees while the fruit gives over its dark sugar to the sidewalk. Instead, we stop, gather several, bring them home and remember where the tree is to add to our list of food sources. We experiment with our strangely cross-pollinated squash; we soak and praise barley. I barely miss tofu. I only sort of miss bread. I miss my vegan identity, but I like looking at what is here, is regional, is not soy-based.
It has been a lovely experiment and a good test of our relationships to food, our homeplace, and each other.
Kate
Friday, August 10, 2007
Traveling snacks.
Sometimes lunch is the hardest moment.
You are out in the world with only what you made early that morning to get you through til dinner time.
Bring on the Potato [or Zucchini] Latkes -- quick to make, totally substantial and travel well for mid-day nourishment.
Potato Latkes
1 grated potato [or zucchini!]
1 egg
as much garlic as you can stand [i like 3 cloves chopped fine]
1 T chopped rosemary [or parsley!]
1 C. whole wheat pastry flour
butter in the skillet.
combine and fry some patties up.
You are out in the world with only what you made early that morning to get you through til dinner time.
Bring on the Potato [or Zucchini] Latkes -- quick to make, totally substantial and travel well for mid-day nourishment.
Potato Latkes
1 grated potato [or zucchini!]
1 egg
as much garlic as you can stand [i like 3 cloves chopped fine]
1 T chopped rosemary [or parsley!]
1 C. whole wheat pastry flour
butter in the skillet.
combine and fry some patties up.
Our Pearl
Barley. Barley is going to save our life.
Members of the Ramshackle are beginning to feel the pain of no rice, no pasta, no quinoa. Nothing, it seems, substantial enough from people to get their fill -- people are rallying for something hardy, something that will make the meal, something that will provide energy after the initial fruit juice and vegetable remnants run through you.
Barley.
Bob's Red Mill gets their Pearled Barley from Oregon and Washington. It's delicious.
Here's something to make --
Barley Risotto.
5-6 cups veggie broth or water
Put this is a pan. bring to a boil then turn to simmer while you do the rest of this.
1 TB Butter
4 Shallots or 1 small onion
2 cloves of garlic
1 large carrot [chopped fine]*
1 cup mushrooms [chopped]*
1 1/2 cups barley
3 TB fresh parsley [chopped]
In a deep skillet [big enough to eventually hold 6 cups +] melt the butter, saute the shallots/onions for 5 minutes. add the garlic, carrots and mushrooms. Saute 5 more minutes.
Add the barley, stirring the whole time, saute for 2 minutes.
Ok this part is serious --- Add the broth 1/2 - 1 cup at a time until you've used it all. But the TRICK is that you add 1 cup then stir it and wait for the broth to be absorbed until you add more. So this whole process of adding the water and what not will take about 45 minutes.
It's worth it. Sometimes I stopped stirring, put the lid on a came back in 5 minutes to add more water and stir more.
Then after the barley is soft and chewy -- stir in the fresh parsley. You could also add Parmesean cheese and a squeeze of lemon at this point. [though local lemons are tough to come by].
*We didn't have either carrots or mushrooms in our fridge. So I used a green bell pepper and fresh green beans. Still real good.
Members of the Ramshackle are beginning to feel the pain of no rice, no pasta, no quinoa. Nothing, it seems, substantial enough from people to get their fill -- people are rallying for something hardy, something that will make the meal, something that will provide energy after the initial fruit juice and vegetable remnants run through you.
Barley.
Bob's Red Mill gets their Pearled Barley from Oregon and Washington. It's delicious.
Here's something to make --
Barley Risotto.
5-6 cups veggie broth or water
Put this is a pan. bring to a boil then turn to simmer while you do the rest of this.
1 TB Butter
4 Shallots or 1 small onion
2 cloves of garlic
1 large carrot [chopped fine]*
1 cup mushrooms [chopped]*
1 1/2 cups barley
3 TB fresh parsley [chopped]
In a deep skillet [big enough to eventually hold 6 cups +] melt the butter, saute the shallots/onions for 5 minutes. add the garlic, carrots and mushrooms. Saute 5 more minutes.
Add the barley, stirring the whole time, saute for 2 minutes.
Ok this part is serious --- Add the broth 1/2 - 1 cup at a time until you've used it all. But the TRICK is that you add 1 cup then stir it and wait for the broth to be absorbed until you add more. So this whole process of adding the water and what not will take about 45 minutes.
It's worth it. Sometimes I stopped stirring, put the lid on a came back in 5 minutes to add more water and stir more.
Then after the barley is soft and chewy -- stir in the fresh parsley. You could also add Parmesean cheese and a squeeze of lemon at this point. [though local lemons are tough to come by].
*We didn't have either carrots or mushrooms in our fridge. So I used a green bell pepper and fresh green beans. Still real good.
Monday, August 6, 2007
recipe :: scone cracker biscuits.
scones, which without baking powder come out like nice crackers.
2 C whole wheat pastry flour.
2TB Butter.
1/2C milk.
1/3C H2O.
cut the butter into cubes, press it into the flour with your fingers. then with a knife mix in the liquids. don't over mix.
put on to floured surface. roll out. cut out circular elements.
bake on a greased up cookie sheet at 415 for 10 minutes.
good with butter and jam.
Note: be gentle. don't handle these too much or they'll get tough.
2 C whole wheat pastry flour.
2TB Butter.
1/2C milk.
1/3C H2O.
cut the butter into cubes, press it into the flour with your fingers. then with a knife mix in the liquids. don't over mix.
put on to floured surface. roll out. cut out circular elements.
bake on a greased up cookie sheet at 415 for 10 minutes.
good with butter and jam.
Note: be gentle. don't handle these too much or they'll get tough.
Sunday, August 5, 2007
the booze problem.
We all have made exceptions to the Total Local initiative. Things we need to keep us going mid-day, things we need to help keep us sane. Primarily our exceptions are coffee, tea, and, for the lucky few, cigarettes. But not booze.
I had originally thought about exceptioning it, but then decided that there should be enough local options to keep me from flinging myself overboard into the sea of dive bars and cheap beer on that first weekend in august.
So I did a little bit of research and discovered that Full Sail beer out of Hood River, OR uses all local ingredients. I have never been one to limit myself in the range of potential beers or drinks, but for August Full Sail will be my drink of choice. For some reason, I didn't look further.
On Friday I went out with my friends after a conference. We were in Woodstock, far away from our homes in NE Portland. One gal suggested we go to the Delta for food and libations. We get there only to find no Full Sail. I try to decide whether to go home, find somewhere new or break my local pledge. Standing on the street corner weighing my moral obligations, I spotted a dive down the street. I alerted my friends and darted over to find a Full Sail -- or potentially a local gin, though that seemed unlikely.
The no name dive bar crushed my moment of hope by saying no, no Full Sail and that they didn't even know there was local gin.
I walked back to the Delta, deflated. I was about to give up -- let my friends either talk me into drinking or the off chance they would be excited to go looking for a third bar option. Back at the Delta, there was good news. The bar keep at the Delta called a bar down the street after hearing of my plight. This new bar had full sail. We trucked on down and drank glorious pitchers of Full Sail beer.
Potentially it's weird to tell such a long story about tracking down beer. So let me say this, the chase was an enlightening moment about the lengths that we must go to stay Total Local. And the level of dedication it requires. But, perhaps most of all, if you don't hang around supportive people -- total local will die in it's tracks. Potentially you can be a lone total local-er if you have a will of steel, but for me -- I would have given in under the slightest pressure multiple times.
August 13. Update on this since i drafted it almost 2 weeks ago. ----
We've done our research and expanded our drinking options so that almost every place can accommodate Total Local Standards. Now included: Widmer beers [except their German], Alameda beers and Aviator Gin [Juniper berries from just east of the Cascades].
Another valid point on this issue is that the TL is not necessarily about being the healthiest people ever or restricting ourselves into misery. I don't want this campaign to be so horrible, strict and miserable that after August we all dart back to our chocolates and cumin. I want this to be sustainable and enjoyable -- that means moving slowly, not buying into rigidity and allowing ourselves the space to go out and drink beer with our friends.
I had originally thought about exceptioning it, but then decided that there should be enough local options to keep me from flinging myself overboard into the sea of dive bars and cheap beer on that first weekend in august.
So I did a little bit of research and discovered that Full Sail beer out of Hood River, OR uses all local ingredients. I have never been one to limit myself in the range of potential beers or drinks, but for August Full Sail will be my drink of choice. For some reason, I didn't look further.
On Friday I went out with my friends after a conference. We were in Woodstock, far away from our homes in NE Portland. One gal suggested we go to the Delta for food and libations. We get there only to find no Full Sail. I try to decide whether to go home, find somewhere new or break my local pledge. Standing on the street corner weighing my moral obligations, I spotted a dive down the street. I alerted my friends and darted over to find a Full Sail -- or potentially a local gin, though that seemed unlikely.
The no name dive bar crushed my moment of hope by saying no, no Full Sail and that they didn't even know there was local gin.
I walked back to the Delta, deflated. I was about to give up -- let my friends either talk me into drinking or the off chance they would be excited to go looking for a third bar option. Back at the Delta, there was good news. The bar keep at the Delta called a bar down the street after hearing of my plight. This new bar had full sail. We trucked on down and drank glorious pitchers of Full Sail beer.
Potentially it's weird to tell such a long story about tracking down beer. So let me say this, the chase was an enlightening moment about the lengths that we must go to stay Total Local. And the level of dedication it requires. But, perhaps most of all, if you don't hang around supportive people -- total local will die in it's tracks. Potentially you can be a lone total local-er if you have a will of steel, but for me -- I would have given in under the slightest pressure multiple times.
August 13. Update on this since i drafted it almost 2 weeks ago. ----
We've done our research and expanded our drinking options so that almost every place can accommodate Total Local Standards. Now included: Widmer beers [except their German], Alameda beers and Aviator Gin [Juniper berries from just east of the Cascades].
Another valid point on this issue is that the TL is not necessarily about being the healthiest people ever or restricting ourselves into misery. I don't want this campaign to be so horrible, strict and miserable that after August we all dart back to our chocolates and cumin. I want this to be sustainable and enjoyable -- that means moving slowly, not buying into rigidity and allowing ourselves the space to go out and drink beer with our friends.
The Value of Experiments Such as This
Okay, I admit it - I was freakin' out and raging on Day 2. I tried to get Kari to quit the Total Local campaign, so that I could.
I had a particularly long wait on a bus stop, after a long day, where, with plummeting blood sugar, I came up with plenty of angry rationalizations about why this experiment was just plain DUMB. We are spending lots more money. Yep, it's frequently cheaper to eat apples from Argentina and our choices are limited anyway, because the majority of food, even at our co-ops and fancy food stores comes from far away.
Besides, I rejected holier-than-thou lifestyle choices a long time ago. I do believe that the personal is political, but being this focused on food couldn't help but focus me on my privilege. The privilege to take up some crazy experiment involving food, when people are frickin' starving and malnourished all over the world.
I was more than relieved to give up the "I don't eat (fill in the blank)..." lifestyle to the "Thank you for this lovely meal of chicken feet or beans and rice or..." I was happy to give it up, not because I enjoy sucking the gummy flesh off chicken's toes, but rather because my hostess did. I was happy to give it up because it helped me to connect, to be humble, to be grounded in my surroundings and grateful for what I was offered. But then, maybe you can tell from the foods I mentioned that I gave up that lifestyle where going local was much more a way of life. I was in Mexico, Guatemala, and Honduras - and much of the food we were eating was local, especially in the smaller towns. In San Marcos, we'd hear the cow's long moans, as each Friday night, one was slaughtered to be sold for the next week. In many places, women walked from kilometers away with baskets of food on their heads, to sell in the larger towns. Primarily locally based diets in these countries are under attack from Pepsi and Pan Bimbo to be sure. Chiles are being shipped into Mexico from India, and corn from the United States. Globalization is screwing small farmers and the environment everywhere. We are all in grave danger from this process. But you probably already knew that...
Today is Day 5 of our Total local experiment. I have gone through some ups and downs with this experience and I really value that. I am learning how to make new things in the kitchen. I made tortillas from scratch with local spelt flour, and just this morning I followed a recipe for crepes - they turned out delicious! I'm more aware of what is in season, and more elated than ever when I come upon a plum tree or blackberry bush. I think we may even figure out the economics part of it - as we order large bags of flour and our tomatoes ripen, we won't be shelling out so much at each visit to the grocery store.
I'm glad that I have had my freak outs, and thought about what privilege I carry - wherever I go in the world, and whatever food choices I make. Like my house mate said, growing food is hella' difficult, back breaking work. I want to support people who are doing it, and doing it sustainably.
The value of experiments such as this - deep reflection and transformation. We'll see where it takes us.
Here is the recipe for crepes!
2 eggs from your local chicken coop
1 cup flour (we used wheat pastry flour from Fairhaven cooperative in Washington)
1.5 cups milk (Sunshine dairy - our source of NW cow milk at the moment)
.5 cup water (from our tap)
2 TB honey (I think this honey came from bees that used to live in our yard)
2 TB butter (we are using Tillamook unsalted butter)
Beat the eggs, milk, water
Combine honey and butter to melt honey.
add to egg mixture. add flour. don't over blend. add several spoonfuls of batter to a buttered skillet. cook til almost dry on top. flip and cook 15 more seconds. enjoy with plum sauce or apple sauce, fresh fruits, or sautéed veggies. Yum!
I had a particularly long wait on a bus stop, after a long day, where, with plummeting blood sugar, I came up with plenty of angry rationalizations about why this experiment was just plain DUMB. We are spending lots more money. Yep, it's frequently cheaper to eat apples from Argentina and our choices are limited anyway, because the majority of food, even at our co-ops and fancy food stores comes from far away.
Besides, I rejected holier-than-thou lifestyle choices a long time ago. I do believe that the personal is political, but being this focused on food couldn't help but focus me on my privilege. The privilege to take up some crazy experiment involving food, when people are frickin' starving and malnourished all over the world.
I was more than relieved to give up the "I don't eat (fill in the blank)..." lifestyle to the "Thank you for this lovely meal of chicken feet or beans and rice or..." I was happy to give it up, not because I enjoy sucking the gummy flesh off chicken's toes, but rather because my hostess did. I was happy to give it up because it helped me to connect, to be humble, to be grounded in my surroundings and grateful for what I was offered. But then, maybe you can tell from the foods I mentioned that I gave up that lifestyle where going local was much more a way of life. I was in Mexico, Guatemala, and Honduras - and much of the food we were eating was local, especially in the smaller towns. In San Marcos, we'd hear the cow's long moans, as each Friday night, one was slaughtered to be sold for the next week. In many places, women walked from kilometers away with baskets of food on their heads, to sell in the larger towns. Primarily locally based diets in these countries are under attack from Pepsi and Pan Bimbo to be sure. Chiles are being shipped into Mexico from India, and corn from the United States. Globalization is screwing small farmers and the environment everywhere. We are all in grave danger from this process. But you probably already knew that...
Today is Day 5 of our Total local experiment. I have gone through some ups and downs with this experience and I really value that. I am learning how to make new things in the kitchen. I made tortillas from scratch with local spelt flour, and just this morning I followed a recipe for crepes - they turned out delicious! I'm more aware of what is in season, and more elated than ever when I come upon a plum tree or blackberry bush. I think we may even figure out the economics part of it - as we order large bags of flour and our tomatoes ripen, we won't be shelling out so much at each visit to the grocery store.
I'm glad that I have had my freak outs, and thought about what privilege I carry - wherever I go in the world, and whatever food choices I make. Like my house mate said, growing food is hella' difficult, back breaking work. I want to support people who are doing it, and doing it sustainably.
The value of experiments such as this - deep reflection and transformation. We'll see where it takes us.
Here is the recipe for crepes!
2 eggs from your local chicken coop
1 cup flour (we used wheat pastry flour from Fairhaven cooperative in Washington)
1.5 cups milk (Sunshine dairy - our source of NW cow milk at the moment)
.5 cup water (from our tap)
2 TB honey (I think this honey came from bees that used to live in our yard)
2 TB butter (we are using Tillamook unsalted butter)
Beat the eggs, milk, water
Combine honey and butter to melt honey.
add to egg mixture. add flour. don't over blend. add several spoonfuls of batter to a buttered skillet. cook til almost dry on top. flip and cook 15 more seconds. enjoy with plum sauce or apple sauce, fresh fruits, or sautéed veggies. Yum!
Thursday, August 2, 2007
use butter, i guess.
We have no fats other than butter. It's unclear to me if my heart might stop working due to copious amounts of butter eating.
Today, day two, was our biggest challenge yet.
We're barely out of the gate and there is already willful cheating and vicious bouts of mid-afternoon low blood sugar rage.
The momentary freak out subsided, we got through the day and made sure to pack extra food for work tomorrow.
****
::: discussions :::
One housemate brought up a good point about the range of our strictness when offered free food or waste-destined food? When food not bombs gives us peppers, clearly from ultra far, do we take them because they were saved from the trash to feed us? In principle we support that work and that notion. But how does that fit with Total Local? What is the point? If that point is simply to save resources by avoiding long haul foods -- then it makes sense to take the free foods or waste. But if the point is to experience what is grown in the region, to get to know your food process, to be conscious of all the morsels we take for granted and watch your resource use -- then the free food doesn't fit. But it's recovered waste and free, maybe that changes the debate?
Today, day two, was our biggest challenge yet.
We're barely out of the gate and there is already willful cheating and vicious bouts of mid-afternoon low blood sugar rage.
The momentary freak out subsided, we got through the day and made sure to pack extra food for work tomorrow.
****
::: discussions :::
One housemate brought up a good point about the range of our strictness when offered free food or waste-destined food? When food not bombs gives us peppers, clearly from ultra far, do we take them because they were saved from the trash to feed us? In principle we support that work and that notion. But how does that fit with Total Local? What is the point? If that point is simply to save resources by avoiding long haul foods -- then it makes sense to take the free foods or waste. But if the point is to experience what is grown in the region, to get to know your food process, to be conscious of all the morsels we take for granted and watch your resource use -- then the free food doesn't fit. But it's recovered waste and free, maybe that changes the debate?
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
my romantic notions
I recognize that there is something more than a little romantic about eating only food from near our home -- even if it is a reasonably large area -- hanging out with farmers, touching the dirt, noticing our food, reaping the local bounty.
I observed and learned farming to be a brutal, oppressive life - distinct in its hardship and unhappiness. Always in Black & White with a dust covered man in overalls sternly glancing at his wheat, willing it to grow. Too many ugly dust bowl images in the collective memory, i imagine. Nothing seemed at all beautiful about the process or the lifestyle of growing and understanding food.
Farming was the life of poor old men -- a dying breed.
Never had I seen a bright woman, sparkling eyes and mischievous smile, raising a fist full of dark hearty greens, standing amidst damp sunny colorful fields of edibles.
I don't know if I've actually ever seen that, but that is my mental image now. I know it is trying work, difficult at best, poverty inducing almost always. But happy and brilliant, nonetheless. I want to support that vision of food growing. Local people who work hard, love the dirt and cultivate the kind of food that everyone should have access to.
Local eating is about me reaching out to the growers, the producers, the people who see the food through the process all the way to my door. Building a community around something so simple, honest and fucking critical.
It is going to be hard for me -- I am a sugar addict. I generally eat a lot of food that is kind of gross if you think about it too much. Even if the food is delicious -- I don't want to be disgusted when i think about what i am putting in my mouth and digesting into my body. so here I go, armed with excitement, a clean palette and four other brave ladies who will face the challenge with me.
kari
I observed and learned farming to be a brutal, oppressive life - distinct in its hardship and unhappiness. Always in Black & White with a dust covered man in overalls sternly glancing at his wheat, willing it to grow. Too many ugly dust bowl images in the collective memory, i imagine. Nothing seemed at all beautiful about the process or the lifestyle of growing and understanding food.
Farming was the life of poor old men -- a dying breed.
Never had I seen a bright woman, sparkling eyes and mischievous smile, raising a fist full of dark hearty greens, standing amidst damp sunny colorful fields of edibles.
I don't know if I've actually ever seen that, but that is my mental image now. I know it is trying work, difficult at best, poverty inducing almost always. But happy and brilliant, nonetheless. I want to support that vision of food growing. Local people who work hard, love the dirt and cultivate the kind of food that everyone should have access to.
Local eating is about me reaching out to the growers, the producers, the people who see the food through the process all the way to my door. Building a community around something so simple, honest and fucking critical.
It is going to be hard for me -- I am a sugar addict. I generally eat a lot of food that is kind of gross if you think about it too much. Even if the food is delicious -- I don't want to be disgusted when i think about what i am putting in my mouth and digesting into my body. so here I go, armed with excitement, a clean palette and four other brave ladies who will face the challenge with me.
kari
our press release.
Portland, Or – The great experiment of the post-modern global age is evolving into practice at this Northeast Portland residence. While committed to radical politics and serious notions, this communal house of five women still indulged in tofutti cuties and Chilean pears as though these treats magically appeared on their doorstep with little effort. After careful consideration, generous thought and fervent discussion, the Ramshackle has decided to try the newest food commitment – all local.
This home will only purchase and consume food that was created or grown in the states of Oregon or Washington for the entire month of August. Five women will be changing their lifestyles and adjusting their impulses; scouring store shelves, adopting farmers markets as their second homes and calling companies to inquire as to their ingredient places of origin. Food must be distributed locally, manufactured locally [if necessary to do such things] and grown locally. Even if Ota tofu makes a mean bean curd in the heart of Portland, those soybeans are grown ‘round the country and trucked to town – that doesn’t fit ‘Total Local’ standards.
One member of the Ramshackle quintet theorized, “Total Local is about remembering that those cherries I eat come from somewhere, someone grew them, picked them and got them to a store for me to buy. If nothing else, I don’t want the process that feeds me to be invisible.”
The newest fashion among the high-politict and the foodie movement is going local. Regaining connection with your primary source of energy, your second biggest expense [after rent] and a critical part of life has become the fad. Discovering regional farms, buddying up with neighborhood farmers and experiencing the wonder of unusual local produce is revolutionizing peoples’ lives. One Ramshackle lady quipped, “I love the process. Scouring, searching, detecting. It’s fantastically complex and bizarrely fun, but more of a time commitment than you ever realized.” Going local has, indeed, become a pastime in itself.
At its heart, Total Local is about having fun, being spry and getting creative. The Ramshackle intends to take full advantage of living in an abundant and ridiculously fruitful place – going to pick their own food when possible, harvest eggs and play in the dirt.
The ladies hope to inspire their community and comrades. The Ramshackle will be recording their adventure for public consumption.
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