Posts Tagged ‘Alabama locavore’

No, they’re not local.  But I was recently seduced by the glistening display of fresh, perfectly ripe, organic, (and highly expensive) grapes in the Kroger near our neighborhood.  I got two heavy bunches—one in each color—because organic grapes are a rare find, and because children love popping the bouncy-ball-sized fruit in their mouths, and holding them, chipmunk like, for an anticipatory second before bursting the juicy bubbles.

And even though these grapes rode in from California on the wave of petroleum necessary for such a trip, I bought them because I think that tradeoffs between local and organic are sometimes called for.  For us eaters in human civilization, food will always be linked to an appetite which might best be described by Freud’s phrase for infantile sexuality: “polymorphously perverse.”  (Or you could describe our relation to food with Michael Pollan’s more down-to-earth phrase: “the omnivore’s dilemma.”)  Because of the contradictory character of this appetite, we buy foods with different objects in mind (nutrition, variety, flavor, politics, environmentalism, nostalgia, ideology, aroma, convenience, craving), and different reasons will have a different sway at different times.  We can be conscientious consumers and still look the other way on occasion.  (For example, when Jack’s class took a “field” trip across the street to Checkers for milkshakes, I just looked the other way and cringed.  Better that than single him out among his friends and deprive him of a special thrill.  Though I admit I felt a perverse thrill when he told me “we walked to Checkers and had milkshakes but then my tummy hurt.”) So, my reasoning about the grapes went like this: We don’t have much organic fruit around here right now.  It’s almost high peach season, but I have my reasons for not eating local peaches.  We do have a lot of other local food options, and have eaten some wonderful mainly local meals lately: grass fed beef with local organic green beans; local shrimp with local basil and summer squash; braised local lamb with carrots and brussels sprouts.

But what’s wrong with conventionally raised grapes from California?  Forty-nine pesticides, seventeen of which the Pesticide Action Network (PAN) describes as “Bad Actors,” and the residues of all of which settle in our bodies.  The bunches of grapes banked invitingly in the supermarket often are not even domestic, however.  Except during California’s grape season, they are probably from Chile, where it’s still legal to spray them with the ozone-depleting, farm-worker-poisoning, developmental and neurological toxin, methyl bromide.  Here’s what the PAN says about this stuff:

* Methyl bromide is a toxic pesticide that is injected into soil before planting strawberries, grapes, almonds and other crops. It is also used to kill pests in stored commodities, in agricultural shipments and in buildings.
* Because of its ability to cause poisonings, neurological damage and reproductive harm, EPA classifies methyl bromide as a Toxicity Category I compound, the most deadly category of substances.
* Methyl bromide is also a powerful ozone depleter and was banned in industrialized countries (including the U.S.) in 2005 under the international Montreal Protocol treaty. (www.panna.org)

Another source, http://www.scorecard.org, “the pollution information site” says that methyl bromide is a “recognized” developmental toxicant and is a “suspected” cardiovascular and blood toxicant, gastrointestinal and liver toxicant, kidney toxicant, neurotoxicant, reproductive toxicant, respiratory toxicant, and skin or sense organ toxicant.  That covers all the bases, I think.

Only because it was depleting the ozone layer, though, was it seen as a serious enough threat to phase out its use over twelve years.  However, the Bush administration left us another pleasant legacy: so-called “critical-use exemptions”:

Whereas the Montreal Protocol has severely restricted the use of bromomethane internationally, the United States has successfully lobbied for critical-use exemptions of the chemical. In 2004, [the final year before the complete phase-out], over 7 million pounds of bromomethane were applied to California fields, according to pesticide use statistics compiled by the California Department of Pesticide Regulation. The most recent set of ‘critical use’ exemptions in the US include use of Bromomethane for tomato, strawberry, and ornamental shrub growers, and fumigation of ham/pork products. (Wikipedia)

Luckily for us, large-scale California growers began growing table grapes organically in 1989, and their production has only grown since them.  I can watch Jack do his chipmunk cheeks in good conscience.

chipmunk cheeks

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Sometimes eating locally does not benefit the health of our bodies or of the planet.  Take one of the southeast’s most famous crops, for example: peaches.  The official state fruit of Georgia, and state tree of Alabama, peaches are strongly associated with Dixie and with the triumphant guitar riffs of a great band formed in 1969 in Macon, Georgia.  The sweet juice of a Georgia peach dripping down the chin becomes a vivid childhood memory of summer, even for a Vermonter.  However, with all due respect to the Allman Brothers, my advice is: don’t eat a peach.  Along with those happy images in their aura, peaches are also strongly associated with chemicals such as organophosphorous, a neurotoxin, and dichloropropene, a reproductive and developmental toxin—to name just two of the forty-nine chemicals typically sprayed on peaches to ward off everything from nematodes and fungi to large mammals.  Needless to say, peaches regularly top the “Dirty Dozen” list of foods most contaminated with pesticide residues.

Legions of living things are attracted to the sweet, juicy, bright orange peachiness of the peach, as we humans are, but it is possible to grow them without heavy applications of synthetic nastiness.  Unfortunately for me here in Auburn, however, typing “organic peaches Alabama” or “Georgia” into Google yields no sources.  Should I make an exception, in order to support local agriculture?  Well, not this time.  Because the news gets worse.

Are these peaches glowing?

The Pesticide Action Network, which promotes pesticide reduction and elimination, as well as consumer awareness, and is based in California, came up with a list of what they call “Bad Actor Pesticides.”  Here’s how they define the baddest of the bad guys:

* Known or probable carcinogens, as designated by the International Agency for Research on Cancer (IARC), U.S. EPA, U.S. National Toxicology Program, and the state of California’s Proposition 65 list.
* Reproductive or developmental toxicants, as designated by the state of California’s Proposition 65 list.
* Neurotoxic cholinesterase inhibitors, as designated by California Department of Pesticide Regulation, the Materials Safety Data Sheet for the particular chemical, or PAN staff evaluation of chemical structure (for organophosphorus compounds).
* Known groundwater contaminants, as designated by the state of California (for actively registered pesticides) or from historic groundwater monitoring records (for banned pesticides).
* Pesticides with high acute toxicity, as designated by the World Health Organization (WHO), the U.S. EPA, or the U.S. National Toxicology Program.

Seventeen out of the forty-nine pesticides typically used on peaches are PAN Bad Actors.  (This information is from pesticideinfo.org.)

What’s a mommy with a fruit-loving four-year-old to do?  When shopping for food, I think in terms of trade-offs among the qualifications important to me: if we’re having a dinner made with local shrimp, organic green beans and basil, I won’t feel too bad about giving Jack those organic California grapes for dessert.  (For the tradeoffs involved in grape-buying, read my next post.)

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We went to the first farmers’ market of the year at “Ag Heritage Park” today in the drizzle.  I and everyone else there seemed to be wondering the same thing: why aren’t there more farmers around here?  The line for the most varied vegetable selection was almost thirty minutes long. The berry farm stand ran out of strawberries at ten past the opening hour.  Peaches were gone by the time Jack and I made it out of the veggie line.   Hundreds of people arrived in the first hour and stood around in the rain, beaming at each other as they hefted canvas bags full of local lettuce, peaches, cucumbers, honey, cheese, and eggs—if they were lucky enough to get some before it all sold out. There’s so much pent up demand for fresh local food, and too few CSAs and small farmers to meet it with their supply. This may be because the market is young in relation to the agricultural history of the state, in which commodity crops like cotton and lumber dominated.

The exciting thing, though, is that small farms are popping up or remaking themselves to meet this demand.  And if you ask around enough you find out about other producers who have been in the area, quietly serving up their grass fed beef or organic greens for decades. (For example, the Ritches of Goose Pond Farm, one of whose scrumptious chickens we enjoyed with friends the other night.)
fm haul
Jack and I took home a small haul: red leaf and butter lettuces, an armful of baby summer squashes, veggie goat cheese from Bulger Creek Farm in Notasulga, and some honey.

Eggs were available, but we already had a dozen of the local “Frank’s Famous Eggs” in the fridge.  (Their yolks are molten orange! And if you happen to eat a supermarket egg when you’re used to the density and flavor of these, you’ll say: what’s this tasteless rubber?)
frank'sThe lettuces made a crisp bed for some eight-minute eggs.


I roasted the summer squash in a skillet with olive oil, salt and pepper, and a sprig of backyard rosemary.  Jack insisted he didn’t like “fwash” but he ate every sweet and salty morsel.


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unsweetened. My favorite seasonings for sweet potatoes are salt and spices. During the fall season of the Randle Farm CSA, we got a ton of organic, honey-sweet sweet potatoes. We experimented with different preparations. On Thanksgiving, my brother-in-law, Ned, spent a lot of time grating a pound or two with my hand-held, flea-market Wonder Shredder, then threw them into a skillet warmed with some sage brown butter. They stuck. Badly. Something about the starch.


So, my stand-by preparation is to roast spears. First, Jack peels them meticulously, avoiding his precious digits. Then I cut them into thick “fry”-shaped spears. I grind up some coriander seeds, fennel seeds, cumin seeds, and salt with a mortar and pestle, and toss the spears with the spices and either olive or sesame oil. So good!

Oh, and if you still have sweet potatoes in May, and they start to sprout, you can make them into interesting creatures:

sweet potato creature

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Randle Farms is one of the CSA possibilities in the Auburn area.  They grow a wide variety of produce, and also offer eggs, beef, pork, and lamb, all of which is organic. When we joined in the fall, our first pick-up included two frozen lamb shoulders.  I had to do some research before cooking these hunks, and then had to turn my knife in all directions to carve the meat off the oddly shaped bone and make relatively uniform-sized chunks.  Because braising is the best way to cook this sinuous cut, I tried two variations on stew—one classic French, and the other Moroccan. Both were delicious, but the Moroccan spices and the mystery ingredient—honey—really brought out the distintiveness of the lamb.

Ras el hanoutThe dish is a variation on Mrouzia, traditionally made after the celebration of the slaughter of the lambs, and characterized by its sweet-spiciness.  The main spices are in the blend called Ras el hanout, which is popular across North Africa and the Middle East.  The blend includes cumin, coriander, cardamom, clove, paprika, cinnamon, nutmeg, peppercorn, turmeric, and mace.

First, in a dutch oven or heavy pot, whisk together the 2 tsp. Ras el hanout, 2tsp. salt, ½ tsp. black pepper, ¾ tsp. ground ginger, a pinch of crumbled saffron threads, and 1 cup of water.  Stir in 3 pounds of lamb chunks with 2 more cups water, 1 chopped onion, 2 minced garlic cloves, 2 cinnamon sticks, and ¼ cup butter.  Simmer, covered, for about 1½ hours.

Then add the sweets: stir in 1¼  cups raisins (I prefer goldens), 1¼ cups whole blanched almonds, ½ cup honey (which you can get locally), and 1 tsp. cinnamon.  Simmer, covered, for another 30 minutes.

Finally, uncover the pot and cook over moderate heat, stirring occasionally, until stew is thicker (about 15 minutes).  Serve with bowls of moist, fluffy cous cous.

Here’s a link to Randle Farms (randlefarms.com) where you can see the lambs munching clover.  (The photo at the top is theirs.)

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Umami.  It’s the earthy, meaty taste that mushrooms, meat, and long-simmered stocks have.  Aged and fermented foods have it too: hard cheeses, Thai fish sauce.

I bought a few handfuls of local shiitakes at Dayspring Natural Foods, sautéed them in olive oil, and tossed them in a salad with romaine, spinach and a vinaigrette made with Dijon, sherry vinegar, and olive oil.  The dark tang of the sherry vinegar was a perfect match with the umami of the shiitakes.  It’s my mushroom of choice.  In comparison, so-called “buttons” taste like dirt.

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Shrimp might be called a staple for many Americans.  It’s often the seafood—or just plain protein—of choice for lunch, dinner, or cocktail snack because it’s sweet, nutritious, low in fat, and goes well with anything from mango salsa to garlicky oil.  What’s not to love?

A few things.  First of all, do you have any idea where most shrimp in supermarkets and restaurants comes from?  Probably Thailand, from which the U.S. imported 182,371 metric tons of shrimp in 2008 (and where intensive shrimp cultivation is endangering the mangrove forests and everything that lives in them).  Or maybe it’s from Indonesia, Ecuador, Vietnam, China, Mexico, or Malaysia.  We import anywhere from 84,000 to 30,000 metric tons of shrimp from these countries annually.  The energy demands of this shipping distance is one problem.  Another is the environmental degradation that results from such intensive farming in these places.  Then there is the problem of contamination.  Mega shrimp farms are constantly fighting off bacteria and fungi with antibiotics—including those that are banned in the U.S.   Heavy metals and other pollutants are also common contaminants.  And do you recall the contamination scandals of recent years, when thousands of pets and Chinese babies died from ingesting melamine?  The New York Times reported not too long ago that melamine is commonly used as a binding agent in the food pellets given to shrimp in China (and probably other places as well).   During the occasional inspection of shrimp imports by the FDA, contamination is almost sure to be found.  In another recent Times article about seafood from China, the reporter summed up the FDA report with these words: “Of the seafood that was refused at the border, filth was the top reason and salmonella was second, with shrimp accounting for about half of those.”  And did you know that the FDA inspects less than 2% of food imports?

These are some of the reasons I’m so excited about the shrimp I can get at Auburn University’s fish market.  The shrimp is raised in Gulf Shores, Alabama by the University’s Aquaculture department, whose programs focus on maintaining and restoring healthy ecosystems and running their businesses sustainably.  (Another project of theirs I’m interested in is the restoration of the oyster beds around Dauphin Island, in the Gulf of Mexico.)  Gulf shrimp are the only domestic shrimp available.


The fish market, just outside of town, is open on Saturday mornings, and often sells out of catfish by 8:30.   This past Saturday, it already felt like summer: the air was heavy, hot, and humid, and the sun was just burning off the haze around 10:00.  We pulled up to the little shack with $27 in cash.  The shrimp are frozen, and sold in huge bags.  Jack wanted to prove his strength by lugging the bag to the car:

Who are you calling shrimp?

Who are you calling shrimp?

I like to cook these shrimp in all kinds of combinations.  Last night we had it with cous cous and a mango-jalapeño and fresh herb salsa (with, yes, many non-local ingredients).  I also like to sauté it with the local shiitake mushrooms now in season, which lace the sweet shrimp an earthy umami yumminess.


Often, the simplest preparation is the best.  Shrimp needs little more than to be sizzled in hot olive oil with crushed garlic and a dried chili for punch.  Salad, crusty bread, and some light wine are the only other things you need for this savory meal.

Some links and other points of interest regarding shrimp:

Green Prairie Aquafarms, which delights in its oxymoronic name, and which I heard about from my friend Jim McKelly, who is working on a film about sustainability projects in Alabama, is an inland shrimp-farming business in the salt ponds of west central Alabama.

Auburn’s Aquaculture Department: http://www.ag.auburn.edu/fish/facilities/index.php

Times article: http://www.nytimes.com/2007/06/29/business/29fish-web.html?scp=10&sq=shrimp%20contamination&st=cse

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Beef Cattle in Pasture

If you like meat, you’d enjoy a trip to the Lambert-Powell Meats Lab store at Auburn University.  They carry eggs, all kinds of cuts of beef and pork, fat packs of ground beef, and sausage in many varieties of traditional spice combinations, including chorizo and fennel-seed-dotted sweet Italian.  (The smoked sausage is delicious grilled and smothered in spicy mustard.) They also occasionally offer grass fed beef, which I prefer to buy because it’s produced more sustainably than its conventional, grain fed counterpart.

The distinction between grass fed and grain fed beef is pretty simple to explain, but the differences in the effects of these two production methods on the environment and human health are drastic.  Here’s how Heidi Finegan, the Research Associate in the Department of Animal Sciences at Auburn, describes the differences in the production methods:

Grass fed beef is just that, beef that is grown only on forages (the term “forage” encompasses many grasses and legumes).  Most beef you buy in the grocery store is finished on grain and considered “regular beef” by many consumers.  Generally, beef cattle are raised alongside their mothers in a pasture until they are weaned at 6-8 months of age, weighing around 500-550 pounds.   After weaning, they will remain on grass until they reach about 800 pounds.  At this point, they will be shipped to the mid-west to enter a commercial feedlot where they will be “finished” on a grain diet until reaching harvest weight at 1000-1200 pounds.  This usually takes around 100 days and the average age of harvest beef is 18-22 months.  So, the main distinction lies in the fact that some cattle never have grain and are marketed as “Grass fed” while feedlot cattle are grain fed.

Even though the grain-finished method is preferred by the beef industry and many consumers, because it takes less time and results in the flavorful white-fat marbling familiar to meat-eaters, it entails many problems.  I won’t go deeply into them, but let me offer a brief list to get your imagination going on some consequences of raising beef on an industrial scale: e. coli, antibiotics, manure “lagoons,” mass-production-style slaughter (or would that be destruction?), fossil fuels, fossil fuels, and more fossil fuels.  This week, Jane Brody wrote about beef in her weekly column for the New York Times, and proposed that “a reduced dependence on livestock for food could help to save the planet from the ravaging effects of environmental pollution, global warming and the depletion of potable water.”  She quotes Dr. Barry Popkin, an epidemiologist at the University of North Carolina, who says that, “in the United States, livestock production accounts for 55 percent of the erosion process, 37 percent of pesticides applied, 50 percent of antibiotics consumed, and a third of total discharge of nitrogen and phosphorus to surface water.”

And we all know that meat consumption contributes to the high rates of heart disease in the U.S.

Grass fed beef offers many advantages.  Heidi says that:

Grass fed cattle are easier to manage, are more cost effective to the producer, and play a key role in sustainable agriculture.  Properly managed grazing patterns can help maintain soil productivity and keep forages in healthy conditions where they can protect soil from erosion and fix nitrogen.  Local producers can also cut out shipping and delivery costs by keeping cattle on their own property and not sending them to Kansas or Texas.  Some negatives to grass fed productions are that it will take a longer amount of time for cattle to reach optimal harvest weight and as the animal ages the tenderness and quality of meat declines.

Some would dispute the point about quality.  Many foodies claim that there is a terroire aspect to grass fed beef—that the particular qualities of the forage and soil come through in the meat, and that the flavors of California- and Vermont-raised grass fed beef are different.  The distinctness of the flavor of grass fed beef may also be a result of contrast.  If you’re used to the water-bloated mass-produced steak from the big chain supermarkets, this beef will be a new experience.  Perhaps nutritional content affects flavor too: grass fed beef contains less saturated fat, and more antioxidants and omega-3 fatty acids than grain fed beef.  Heidi also pointed out that beef is high in zinc, vitamin B, and iron.

If you love a juicy steak, it seems that the best way to go is to buy grass fed, and only on occasion. But grass fed beef is not widely available yet, so when we just need to celebrate with steak and red wine, I’ll buy grain fed New York steaks from the Auburn meats lab.  At least I know it’s local and raised with education in mind. My favorite toppings for salt-and-pepper seasoned burgers are Colemans mustard, a tomato slice, and fresh basil leaves.  For steaks, simplest is best: I rub them all over with a fresh rosemary sprig (then stick some leaves in the fat-crevices), sprinkle them with salt and pepper, and grill to mid-rare.

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Over the next few months, I’ll be lucky enough to follow strawberry season north, as we go from Alabama, through New York and Massachusetts, to Vermont, where we’ll look forward to going to the strawberry festival at Cedar Circle Farm in Thetford.  Here in Auburn, we had our first local organic strawberries yesterday, from Miles Berry Farm, in Baxley, Georgia.  Jack found a Siamese twin:


Kids love strawberries, and for that reason, it’s particularly important to buy the organic ones.  Strawberries are at the top of the list of “the dirty dozen”—the fruits and vegetables most likely to be contaminated with pesticide, herbicide, and fungicide residues.  Here’s what Cindy Burke writes, in her meticulously researched book To Buy or Not to Buy Organic:

Some organic growers joke that conventionally grown strawberries are so full of chemicals, you could grind them up and use them as pesticide.  But pesticides are no laughing matter.  Sixty-five different pesticides, fungicides, and herbicides are registered for use on strawberries.
Strawberries are the most chemically intensive crop in California. Most commercial strawberry growers use methyl bromide, a toxic, ozone-depleting chemical, to eradicate all fungus, nematodes, microorganisms, and weeds, effectively killing every living thing in the soil where strawberry plants are grown.  For the remaining growth cycle, the berry plants are drip-fed chemical fertilizers.  Because methyl bromide can cause poisoning, neurological damage, and reproductive harm, the EPA classifies it as a Toxicity Category I compound, which is a classification reserved for the most deadly substances it regulates.
Nonorganic strawberries are highly likely to contain pesticide residue after harvest.  When the Pesticide Data Program releases its annual list of produce samples with residues that exceed tolerance levels, strawberries appear more often than any other fruit or vegetable. (84-5)


Perhaps the best way to enjoy (organic!) strawberries is just to bite into them and slurp up the juice.  During rhubarb season, clearly, it’s pie time.  When I visited Spain in high school, the three sisters in my host family ate strawberries and cream for dessert every day.

But strawberries can be delicious additions to savory fare as well.  A classic salad consists of arugula tossed with goat cheese, strawberries, and a tangy vinaigrette.  A surprising appetizer can be made with a variation on this theme.  Here’s a little recipe:

Toast thin slices of baguette and drizzle a few drops of olive oil on them.
Spread goat cheese on the slices.
Top with thin slices of strawberry and a few leaves of rosemary.

When I make this later today, aside from the bread and olive oil, everything will be local. I’ll use my Georgia berries, goat cheese from Fromagerie Belle Chèvre in Elkmont, Alabama (217 miles away), and the rosemary Jack and I planted out back.


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The Locavores of the San Francisco Bay area (www.locavores.com) define locavorism as eating food that comes from within a one-hundred-mile radius of home.  Having lived there, I know the bounty and variety of sustainably raised food that can be procured within that radius—including everything from lamb to Tomales Bay Sweetwater oysters, and from goat cheese to Meyer lemons.  Many locales are much more limited when it comes to locally-produced food, so I prefer to think of the radius as more of an ellipse that can wobble this way and that, embracing the cherries or chicken from a bit farther afield.

Here’s an example of the ellipse philosophy in practice.  When we lived in Chestertown, Maryland, I belonged to a food co-op.  Once a month, we’d unload cases of food in Jenn Hicks’ garage, and divide it up.  One item I always purchased was chicken.  This was not just any chicken, but the most chickeny tasting chicken, which was sustainably raised by the Amish community in the region.  I dream about the taste of that chicken.  Here in Auburn, I haven’t been able to find local chicken, so I stretch my locavore-ellipse to reach Springer Mountain Farms in Georgia, 190 miles away. Their chicken is delicious and sustainably raised; the farm is also the first chicken farm in the world to be certified by the American Humane Association.  It is worth those extra food-miles.

Another kind of stretch, or trade-off, can be made for local food that isn’t certified organic.  For example, Auburn University’s meat sciences program runs a shop, behind which is a sloping green hill where black steers stand around munching grass and swishing their tails.  The shop sells grassfed beef, pork and student-made spicy pork sausage, and eggs.  None of these products are certified organic by the USDA, but they couldn’t get much more local.  My house is about a mile away.
It’s strawberry season in southern Georgia, so I stretched my ellipse yesterday when I bought a pint of organic berries at my local natural food store, Dayspring.  The strawberries came from Miles Berry Farm, in Baxley, Georgia, about 240 miles away from Auburn.  To hear more about these berries check out my strawberry post.

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