My favorite part of the Why Hunger website is how personal the stories are. Many of the snapshots talk about new policies, programs, or initiatives, but they focus in on the individual community members that these larger plans affect. I think its very easy, especially in D.C., to get wrapped up in the legislation and forget about the people that this food movement is really about, like Jean Paul, owner of Philly cornerstore ChuChu.

Situated in a very concentrated row house neighborhood of North Philly, Chu Chu has a responsibility to feed the community. Jean Paul provides the main source of food for up to 65 families that live in the densely populated  area. Chu Chu is also the closest food supplier for four schools, ranging from pre K to High School, meaning the store serves on average 50 kids a day. The main thing Jean Paul knows about food systems is that it’s all about trust. He is entrusted with the health of his community and its future generations, as are all members of the food chain.

Feeding the neighborhood is not a duty Jean Paul takes lightly, which is why he participates in the Food Trust’s Healthy Corner Store Initiative. The great part about the  program is that it keeps the focus of the food movement on the personal level. Rather than mandating statewide solutions with specific requirements, the initiative allows the individual business owners to find solutions for their own communities. Food Trust provides storage space, nutrition classes, and mentoring, but beyond that corner store owners are supposed to find, stock, and promote their own healthy produce. This allows Jean Paul to be more connected to his food chain, as he must interact more directly with suppliers and his customers to promote healthy options, while providing solutions best fit for his neighborhood.

I think there is an interesting balance to be found between putting the burden of solutions too heavily on community members while also making sure solutions aren’t too broad based they become inapplicable to specific problems a neighborhood might face. The antidote to a poisonous food system dominated by large-scale agriculture should not be solely dominated by large-scale healthy food programs. After all, the local food movement is supposed to be local.

 

I’m staring at rows upon rows of perfectly lined, perfectly straight trees. All the same height, color, evenly spaced and fully spruced. My assignment is to look into the upcoming industry of genetically engineered Chestnuts, Loblolly pines, Eucalyptus among others. I fee like I am in a Sci-fi novel of some dystopian future, where we reminisce about the vague concept of natural forests, while the Lorax wanes some woeful dearth for the forgotten green giants. Dr. Shiva’s term: “Monoculture of the Mind”  seems an apt title for my Twighlight Zone-esque scenario.

The scary thing  is this is all very real. Genetically engineered tree plantations are used to supply paper, pulp, and biofuel industries. The GE tree varieties are spun by biotech PR agents as the solution to climate change as a way to preserve forests by strengthening trees. The ‘superior’ trees have denser wood, faster growth rates, resistence to disease and frost, among other super power traits. Their definition of what constitutes a forrest is dramatically different from mine.

These biotech companies promote a ‘Monoculture of the Mind’ outlook. This way of thinking, as Dr. Shiva describes, establishes man’s empire over a world where nature is dead. The land can be owned, patented, injected with hormones, packaged, and sold for profit. In a corporate, commodity based world, sameness reigns.

Severing ties to the Earth, as Ms. LaDuke points out, means cutting the roots to our ancestors. LaDuke explains that food is all about relationships. She says, “Food for us comes from our relatives, whether they have wings or fins or roots.” In this vein of thought, man cannot own land, but like a relative must take care of the Earth and in return the Earth will take care of man. As evidenced by LaDuke’s story of wild rice, this philosophy is tied to religious aspects of her tribe. Most religions share similar stories that describe the partnership between nature and humankind. For example, the Garden of Eden. I know that Thai Buddhist monks will only eat what is given to them, and it is a great honor to offer food to a monk, because you are fueling their holy lives. Aristotle once described honey, the first sugarer, as dew given to man from the gods and the stars….but I am off track.

Essentially, we need to escape the monoculture of the mind and  rediscover the interconnectedness of nature. A real forrest is diverse and lush and can provide for man if we can provide for it.

 

 

In preparation for a summer dedicated to all things food, I had meticulously researched must eat places in the D.C. area before arriving. Family and friends’ recommendations, magazines’ top ten lists, instagram’s foodie feeds were all cross referenced with Yelp reviews to make sure I didn’t miss out on the next best thing in the local food world. Walking around the streets, my food bucket list has grown as I add new discoveries. “I just found the coolest new place…” is a recurring line in my conversations.

Last weekend, some Foodwork fellows and I dined at Keren Restaurant for a taste of Ethiopian food. Apparently, Ethiopian food is a must eat when in D.C. The restaurant received 4.5 stars on Yelp with reviews that declare the place: “one of the best authentic Ethiopian restaurants that D.C. has to offer.” Expectations were met above and beyond. I tried tibsi, enjera, and fuhl, all seasoned with spices and flavors completely new to my taste buds. The meal was even more delicious, because I felt like it was tied to a unique place that I could drum up in the mind’s eye.

Trubek’s exploration of terroir has made me question my recent experience. Terroir encompasses the culture, history, and landscape enrooted in place. Meals epitomizing terroir encapsulate the place’s complex narratives, its people’s stories, and the community’s traditions. All of which probably cannot be fully experienced in a 30 minute meal one Friday night.

Turns out Keren isn’t even Ethiopian. With further inquisition, I found out the restaurant actually serves Eritrean dishes. The two types of food are apparently very similar in taste. Yet, there are subtle differences: Eritrean dishes are typically lighter, there are more tomatoes, the spice blends differ.^2 Plus, Trubek’s terroir goes beyond taste. Eritrea has its own culture and history. In fact, Eritrea and Ethiopia have historically been enemies since Eritrean independence.

However, Keren has been branded on Yelp as Ethiopian,  probably because it’s good for business. The tourists want Ethiopian food. All of social media is telling the sight-seers of D.C. that they must try it. The tourists come, sit for 30 minutes to an hour, eat the food, and leave feeling culturally fulfilled and empowered to tell their friends that they branched out and tried something different. What they/I experienced was not Ethiopian culture or Eritrean culture, but some new blend created to please the American appetite and instagram feed. This is not terroir.

Are my explorations and obsessions with food discoveries belittling cultures? Am I ‘Columbusing,’ as some are now calling it?[1]

As a counterpoint, isn’t there some value left for discovery? I still tried something new; my tastebuds still exposed to distinct flavors currently lacking from my diet. Or how about fusion restaurants? The spirit of cooking lies in innovation, and cultural fusion dishes (like Mexican Korean tacos from Kogi as an example) have often led the way in American culinary discovery, expanding the recipe realm of possible tastes. Do small French coastal towns miss out by guarding their community too closely from new influences? I suppose the best thing to do is eat consciously and thoughfully. Mindful eaters go forth!

[1] http://www.npr.org/sections/codeswitch/2014/07/06/328466757/columbusing-the-art-of-discovering-something-that-is-not-new

2 http://www.washingtoncitypaper.com/articles/36663/mild-frontier

 

 

There is no silver bullet. No magic spell, wonder drug, golden rice, or secret ingredient missing from the pot. The lesson that keeps repeating itself this week is balance.

It all started when I attended a meditation workshop hosted by the yoga studio next to where I’m interning. I had never done anything like this before, but was curious and thought it might be a nice break from the fast paced caffeinated DC work world. Also fellow Foodworks fellow, Jeanne, invited me to try it out with her. In a soothing voice, the leader of the class prompted us to balance the present with the future. Root our selves firmly in reality (noting the beauty in moments as menial as dorm room laundry but that exist in the present) while not losing sight of our aspirations.

I found this message of balance again on our fifth day activities. We first met with the President of the World Food Program USA. The organization distributes food aid internationally in times of crisis, whether from natural disasters or political conflict. In response to questions regarding the controversy surrounding food aid, he emphasized the need for a multipronged approach. Yes, purchasing food from local markets in the countries affected is more sustainable than flooding markets with US agribusiness products, and the organization undergoes such an operation. However, when time is of the essence, and local markets cannot support a hungry population, then perhaps food from agribusinesses is not such a bad thing.

Ageyman and McEntee reinforced the need for balance when considering food justice. The alternative food movement (local/slow food) is not the one stop solution to problems in the American food system. This oversimplifies a highly complex issue. The topic needs to be addressed from an environmental, socioeconomic, and political viewpoint while confronting both the outcomes and also the causes of the broken system. They write food justice needs to simultaneously work against the neoliberalism structure for long term change while simultaneously alleviating immediate pains working within the system.

It’s all about balance and moderation. And yet there’s that old phrase that I particularly agree with: everything in moderation even moderation. I fear progress could be hindered by sticking too devoutly to a multipronged solution. A balanced approach at some level works within and accepts the existing structure. Perhaps monumental change to the neoliberal structure needs to be made at the expense of immediate solutions. Maybe meeting our future aspirations will require biting the bullet on present needs as painful as they may be. Is this even feasible? I’ve confused myself…

The common theme I saw threaded through all three readings was the power of nature. The Earth’s complex processes are things of wonder. McKibbon describes being in awe with the production of honey: that hundreds of bees can work together day in and day out and produce sugary sweet liquid gold. I had the same moment of awe in 8^th grade biology class when I first learned how hundreds of cells work perfectly in unison to break down sugars to fuel our bodies. Truly amazing. The colony naturally performs best, as do our bodies’ cells, through collaboration and extensive hard work. Nothing about nature, at least to me, seems fast, easy, or cheap.

In Pollan’s piece, the author William Ralph is quoted as saying, “The whole of nature is a conjunction of the verb to eat in the active and passive.” Food is at the very heart of nature, and in many ways is human’s main connection to all of Earth’s living things. Food production, as with most human endeavors, works best through collaboration with nature, such as through beekeeping. However, this does not mean food production that respects nature is easy. McKibbon writes of his beekeeping friend Kirk, “But he’s still a farmer. And farmers, in my experience, usually have something to complain about.” It is long, hard, often costly work.

On the other hand, when human industry starts contradicting the very logic of nature, as Pollan describes, well then, we as a species start to diverge onto a very dangerous path. Schlosser’s fast food nation, in which the industrial production of food exploits the land and other species, champions human industry. This food is fast, easy, and cheap to eat, which is the very reason it should be questioned. We are fighting nature, and it seems nature is fighting back. The health of human kind is being threatened. Our bodies are breaking down from the chemicals ingested. The upcoming generation is likely to have a shorter life span than previous generation because of the food being fed to kids.

Before writing this post, I was bike riding through Constitution Gardens. At the Martin Luther King Jr. Memorial, engraved in stone is a quote by MLK: “The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends towards justice.” Now, I know this quote was not talking about food systems, but since food is the only thing that has been on my mind recently, that is precisely what I was thinking about. The arc of the universe bends towards the logic of nature, which is fairness for all species. I hope/ think we will change our food system, because nature is forcing us too. Change is being made, slow and steady, but still change. People are caring more about what they eat, championing local and organic. Food should not be fast, easy or cheap. Food should be full of nature’s wonder. That would be truly amazing!

 

 

I completely registered with Wendell Berry’s depiction of a passive consumer: one who blindly eats what is given to them and is disconnected from the land and the agricultural act that is eating. I was completely ignorant on the current disarray of the food system before this summer. Actually, if I’m being honest, I was completely ignorant of anything to do with food. I didn’t cook. The kitchen has always been left to my mother, who dished out delicious concoctions, which I ate and appreciated for their tastiness, but that was pretty much as far as I entered into the cooking realm.

I also have only a small grasp on nutrition. Probably due to her Texas roots, which come with a love of barbeque, butter, and big portions, my mother never really prioritized healthy eating in the house. In fact, we laughed at the L.A. women on their low carb, sugar free, trendy new diets, who would order a few leaves of lettuce at a restaurant with outward glee while, (at least I imagined) they wept internally for the sumptuous meals they passed up.

Even though we are only a week into the program, this summer has already been eye opening for me. To prepare for my internship at Food and Water Watch, I began reading the executive director, Wenonah Hauter’s book: Foodopoly. In short, Hauter explains how our current food system is broken, because of the dominance of factory farms over more sustainable agriculture. I was horrified and outraged over the government policies that are fueling this harmful system, and began to research more on the topic. I finally understood that by being ignorant about the food I ate, I was actually making a choice to support the destructive reign of factory farms.

This summer I’m trying to follow Pollan’s guidelines. I’m thinking about what my Great Grandmother, Meme Holmes, would think of the ingredients I purchase. I’m cooking, starting with simple recipes of the right portions and organic ingredients. Or at least trying. At work, I’m researching food policy. On weekends and lunch breaks, I seek to engage with the local DC community. Slowly but surely, I’m trying to connect with the land and take back my role as an active member of the agricultural food chain.

The thing I’m realizing is that eating responsibly is actually very freeing. I don’t have to be chained to some fad of a diet. Food should be enjoyable and flavorful. I think Petrini explained it best that good food should evoke history, culture, and tradition. I don’t have to write off my mother’s cooking. She reminded me on a call this weekend that good Texas brisket smokers, like my Grandfather, Poppa John, practice very sustainable cooking. They have incredible respect for their animals. Poppa John would use the meat from the cows of his neighbor (a small time farmer), wake at the crack of dawn to meticulously smoke the meat, and then later that night serve it to us grandchildren who came to visit on summer holiday. So when I’ve honed my cooking skills, maybe I’ll take on some family recipes….with some more healthy modifications and proper portions of course.