Slow Food Blog

May 2005
Of Suicide Genes and Speaking Truth to Power

Your rights were reduced a little more last month.

The Iowa Legislature voted to support House File 642, which prohibits local communities from banning genetically modified seed, and sent it off to the Biotech industry’s hip pocket where Governor Vilsack signed it into law. Here’s what happened and how.

In far-flung places like Vermont and California, organic farmers and other concerned citizens began to notice that their state and federal governments were doing little, or nothing, to protect them from the onslaught of Monsanto, et al, and their GMOs (genetically modified organisms). So, they turned, in droves, to local legislation to ban or otherwise control the use of GMO seed in their towns and counties. The idea caught on and started sweeping the nation through the loose-knit network that is the organic movement.

This in turn pinned back the ears of the Biotech industry, because goodness knows we wouldn’t want to impinge on any of their profits. So they saddled up their lobbyists and sent posses to statehouses throughout the country. Now these lobbyists are well paid, well educated, well dressed professionals and are quite adept at influencing politicians to focus on the buttered side off the bread. Iowa is now the ninth state to succumb to their irresistible powers of persuasion. Identical bills are pending all over the country.

Some of you are not organic farmers and might be asking yourself, “so what?” Well, here’s the problem: the Biotech industry’s GMOs are designed for monoculture; drastic simplification of the agricultural system to put quantity and profit above quality and nutrition. These seeds are often designed to produce sterile offspring (using so-called “suicide genes”). Even if the seeds are able to reproduce, it’s against the law to save them.

Nature prefers biological diversity, and will adapt in often-severe ways to correct the ecosystem in favor of diversity (witness the dust bowl). The result of GMO monoculture is too much of a bad thing. And it isn’t the farmers of those cornfields that surround our fair city who are making the profits. Ask any of them and they’ll tell you that the federal subsidies almost make them break even. Those profits are going to the GMO seed companies; they hold patents on their seed, and on the DNA in them.

That’s where the organic farmers get fired up. Biotech’s right to swing its arms ends at the tip of the organic farmer’s nose. If a truck carrying GMO grain drives past your organic farm, a lot of that pollen is going to wind up in your field. It also gets there by way of the butterflies, bees, and on the wind. Then, not only is your crop no longer organic, but also if you save that seed to plant the next season, even unwittingly, then you stand in violation of Monsanto’s patent rights and you’ll have to pay for it, dearly. Similar problems arise from chemical drift, wherein ammonium nitrate and herbicides drift across the road from the GM farm to the organic one.

All this is why many communities have passed ordinances controlling or banning the use of GMO seed. Now, in Iowa, we can’t do that. Rep. Mark Kuhn (D-Floyd) called the bill “an attempt to legislate by and for the biotechnology industry,” and Rep. John Whitaker (D-Van Buren) agreed, saying it was a further erosion of local control over controversial agricultural practices that raise health and environmental concerns. Our own Joe Bolkom (D-Iowa City) stood with them, calling this “a bill in search of a problem” because no localities are presently pursuing the sort of regulation this bill prohibits. But sadly, the majority put their campaign financing ahead of their constituents rights and health, again.

New York in Blue
A Brief Stint in the Big Apple (and environs)

Kim and I had occasion to visit the center of the known universe last weekend, and despite the fact that, being a Chicago boy, I tend to haze & disrespect New York mercilessly, we did have a marvelous time. I've lots of wonderful food to discuss and plenty of recommendations. Dig in.

Just up the river from NYC, in Westchester county right off the Tappan-Zee bridge, is the quaint little Village of Tarrytown. Besides being home to Marymount College, it is also the home of The Stone Barns Center for Food and Agriculture. The Stone barns is a newly opened (last May) facility, on the grounds of what was the Rockefeller estate there.

Stone Barns Center is a beautiful non-profit farm, educational center and restaurant. Their mission is to demonstrate, teach and promote sustainable, community-based food production. They offer a unique experience: a chance to learn about farming firsthand on a real working farm, the only farm open to the public so close to New York City. The Center is also home to Blue Hill at Stone Barns, a restaurant by famed New York Chef Dan Barber, that offers guests a taste of the farm and of the bounty of the Hudson Valley. Blue Hill staff is not only there to cook and serve, they are equally excited about the role their kitchen will play in education programs. Stone Barns Center is a four-season operation, producing food even in deep winter in their amazing, minimally heated greenhouse.

Our meal at Blue Hill began with raw scallops topped with a grapefruit granita and a mint infusion. This was followed by a salad of greens picked just moments earlier, with a delicious warm pancetta vinaigrette and the most curious egg. They soft-cooked the farm fresh egg, peeled it (which must have been painstaking work) then rolled it in panko crumbs and fried it very lightly. You can expect to see me steal this idea soon.

Then the entree: a braised and then seared pork belly that was out of this world. Just amazing, even though I did seem to feel faint shooting pains down my left arm as I ate, it was well worth it.

The same restaurant provided boxed lunched for the conference I attended there, great sandwiches and those same luscious greens were accompanied by brownies and a local bottled water. Kicks the hell out of a happy meal any day.

Dinner the next night was at the Flying Pig Farm Cafe, just up the Saw Mill Parkway in Mt Kisco (2 Depot Plaza, 914.666.7445) Most of my meal was wonderful including the lobster pancakes braised in butter and a perfect pork chop. Unfortunately Kim did have to deal with some overcooked lamb, and although she asked for the polenta (to which she is allergic) to be replaced with mashed potatoes, she got the polenta anyway and had a big mouthful before she realized their mistake. Luckily she came out of that OK.

The next day it was time to catch a train. Unlike the rest of the country, trains from the DC are up through Boston are cheap, clean, and punctual, very like most of Europe. The ride from the Tarrytown station on the Metro-North line took just under 1 hour to get to Grand Central, and it only cost $7 each. You'd almost pay that in tolls if you drove, and with the price of gas these days...

Although I hadn't been to New York City for years and years, the one thing I knew I could count on was that the Grand Central Terminal would not have changed, and it hasn't. I had to whisk Kim through, though, so that we could check in and make our next appointment. Not to worry, we'd be back the next day - for lunch.

Our hotel for the night - thanks to some zealously horded frequent-stay points with the good folks at Hilton - was the world-renowned Waldorf-Astoria, at the corner of 49th and (what else?) Park Avenue. Luxuriously but not ostentatiously appointed, the Waldorf still deserves its reputation for understated, effective, classy service. Sadly, a gin & tonic at the bar will set you back $12.50, but so it goes.

No time just then for the G&T, because it was drop-the-bags-and-out-the-door for our afternoon and the brand-spanking-new Museum of Modern Art. Affectionately known as MoMA, the new digs are at 11 W. 53rd St, very near St. Patrick's Cathedral, Rockefeller Center, and the original Saks 5th Avenue.

On the 2nd floor of the Museum is Cafe 2, it offers seasonal Roman fare, including pasta, panini, pizza, salumi, roasted meats, cheeses, salads and soups. We waited in line next to a sign which accurately stated "don't worry, this line moves pretty fast," and by the time we had looked over the menu and decided on our meals we were through the line and ordering at the very beautifully & efficiently designed counter. Kim ordered a wild mushroom and arugula salad with pecorino, I chose the prosciutto panini with rocket and pecorino. We shared a fantastic platter of salumi & olives, and a half carafe of Arneis. Awesome. Just what we needed.

At MoMA we saw some very famous works af art, such as Andy Warhol's portraits of Marilyn Monroe, Elvis, and Campbell's Soup. They have Picasso's Les Demoiselles d'Avignon, and the priceless van Gogh masterpiece, Starry Night.

There were quite a few fascinating pieces from artists none of us have heard of, too. My favorite was a collection of bottles, aluminum in a glass matrix, inside a mirrored box. It was called Modernity, Mirrored and Reflected Infinitely, by Josiah McElheny. Also, Matthew Barney is represented with the rather disturbing installation The Cabinet of Baby Fay La Foe, which purports to tell the story of Ms. La Foe, a burlesque dancer (grandmother to Gary Gilmore, who was the first man executed in the US after the reinstatement of the death penalty) and her torrid affair with Harry Houdini, who may well have been Gilmore's grandfather. Eerie stuff.

We walked back to the hotel, past the gaggle of news crews surrounding St. Patrick's due to the Pope's passing the day before, past the expertly appointed windows of Saks 5th Avenue, and through the door held open by the white gloved, trenchcoated doorman of the the Waldorf. A brief rest, and it was off to dinner.

An acquaintance of mine named Ken Callaghan, formerly the chef at the excellent Union Square Cafe, has opened a BBQ joint on 27th Street, just outside of Chelsea in the district known as Flatiron (for the famous building). It is called Blue Smoke, and it's the best BBQ I've had east of the Appalachians and north of the Mason-Dixon Line. We started with what they called "barbecued" mussels (their quotes), which were, strangely, a good match with our Panta Rei Barbera d'Asti Controtto 2000. By the time the entrees came, though, it was time to switch to beer.

Our lagers were from Brooklyn Brewery (a big Slow Food supporter, by the way), and they were the pause that refreshed between mouthfuls of pulled pork, slaw, pit beans, collards and dry-rubbed KC ribs. Dessert was, well, out of the question.

It was a beautiful night, so we walked back to the hotel up Lexington Avenue. Across the street from the Waldorf, we found a bar called Whiskey Blue, 541 Lexington Avenue. If you are really cool, think you are, or would like to be, then this is the place to see and be seen. Packed to the rafters with Wall Streeters and their trophy dates, with a techno beat and centerfold servers, this is a side of Manhattan that should be experienced at least once. Mind your manners, though. The bouncer is built like a cornerstone and looks perfectly capable of making you an offer you can't refuse.

The next morning, Kim wanted to see Times Square. So we walked past 30 Rock and 6th Avenue (it's not Avenue of the Americas, it's 6th Avenue, else they'll make you for an out-of-towner right away) to the world famous source of the Bright-Lights-Big-City appellation. It remains quite the monument to capitalist decadence.

From there we wandered the theatre district. Broadway is "dark" on Mondays, but it was still cool to return to the streets where, 25 years ago, I dreamed they might be putting my name on the marquis. And I'd have made it to, if it hadn't been for all those terrible habits I had to pay for, like eating and staying warm.

Our walking tour of Midtown was nearing an end, but not before we trekked back across town to get a glimpse of the UN. There is a favorite statue there that I wanted Kim to see, of a very proletariat-looking man beating a sword into a plowshare, but ironically we could not get to that section of the grounds due to security concerns.

Again westward up the hill and back to Grand Central, to the one thing I knew would not have changed: the Oyster Bar. There I added to what is becoming a sizeable collection of pictures of Kim beaming before platters of raw shellfish. My oysters were fried (though I did swipe a couple raw Chincoteagues off Kim's platter) and I had fried cod, too, all of it washed down with the other great local beer, Blue Point Toasted Lager. Their description states: "Six different malts including: English Pale, Crystal, Munich, Carapils, Wheat and Belgian Caravienna. Toasted Lager displays a balanced flavor of malt and hop which makes it easy drinking. Special lager yeast is used to produce that long lasting, smooth finish. The "toasted" part of the name refers to our direct-fire brew kettle; hot flames imparts a toasted flavor to our most popular microbrew." Best beer I had all weekend.

We returned one last time to our hotel to collect our bags, and forked over the extra $30 for a Town Car instead of taxi to LaGuardia. A mild extravagance, 'tis true, but we were quite exhausted, and the thought of New York potholes and yellow cab shocks pried my wallet wide open for the roomy leather interior of a Town Car. God bless all concierges.

Renewing America’s Food Traditions

The Chinese philosopher and academic Lin Yutang once said, “What is patriotism but love of the food we ate as children?”

Dr. Lin’s transcendent idea cuts across cultural boundaries and demonstrates that food, as the clearest material example of a parents love, forms our earliest understanding of home. The location of your family when you were born, to a large measure, determines what foods provide comfort for you and are a culinary metaphor for your mother’s arms.

What a tragedy it would be to lose such intimate personal identifiers, to take the idea that “you can never go home again” to obscene, even cruel lengths. Yet, that is precisely what is happening.

MacArthur Fellow and Director of the Center for Sustainable Environments at Northern Arizona University, Gary Paul Nabhan notes two thirds of the distinctive seeds and breeds which fed America when the first European settlers arrived has vanished. He continues, “One in fifteen wild, edible plant and animal species has diminished to the degree that it is now considered at risk. These declines in diversity bring losses in traditional ecological and culinary knowledge as well. Consequently, we have suffered declines in the food rituals which otherwise link communities to place and cultural heritage.”

This tragic downward spiral must not be permitted to continue. There are many individuals and organizations that have done their part to stem this tide, and many of them recognized the need to coalesce, to coordinate their efforts in a broad coalition. The resulting organization, Renewing America’s Food Traditions (RAFT) was created in the fall of 2003, consisting of the American Livestock Breeds Conservancy, Nabhan’s own Center for Sustainable Environments, Chef’s Collaborative, Cultural Conservancy, Native Seeds/SEARCH, Seed Savers Exchange and Slow Food USA. One year later, they were prepared to release a self-titled publication detailing some of the most jeopardized foods in America, and some of the great success stories.

Nabhan and his Research Associate Ashley Rood compiled the information with the help of dozens of experts throughout the US, such as Deborah Madison, Winona LaDuke, Kent Whealy, Patrick Martins, Tami Lax, Barbara Bowman and many more. Renewing America’s Food Traditions tells the story of Chapalote Corn, the first corn ever grown in what became the United States; the story of the forgotten flavor of the Marshall Strawberry; and the legacy and uncertain future of the Seminole Pumpkin.

Our food determines who we are. America takes righteous pride in its cultural diversity, but that diversity is in serious danger from the homogenization and industrialization of flavors and food. Imagine a world where there are only a handful of things to eat. You needn’t tax your imagination too strenuously, because you are living in one. Today 30 plants feed 95% of the earth’s population. In that last 100 years, 250,000 plant varieties have gone extinct, and another vanishes every 6 hours. In that same time period, the US has lost 93% of its crop species diversity. Fully one third of native cow, pig and sheep breeds has gone extinct or is on the verge.

What a dull and worthless place to live where every burger tastes the same (like fat and salt) every apple looks and tastes the same (bred to ship, all crunch and no sweetness), and every beer tastes the same (like carbonated water). We’re far to close to that world now. Bravo to RAFT and their efforts to stave off the bland and the boring.

Planting a Seed - The Philosophy of Stewardship

“And God said, Let us make man in our image, after our likeness; and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the earth, and over every creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth.” –Genesis 1:24-26

Springtime brings us that special sensation of rebirth, the belief that we can start again, that what was dark and fearful can be made light and loving. There can be no clearer symbol of optimism and faith than the act of planting a seed. As farmers and gardeners across the northern hemisphere ready their fields and plots for planting, they are resolute in their conviction that their fond expectations of spring will reap solid sustenance when autumn returns.

That faith is not unfounded; there is ample precedent that when one is a good steward of the land, the harvest is bountiful. If not, as America learned in the 1930s, one will harvest a dustbowl. What happens, though, when we step back and look at a broader landscape? Not just a garden or a farm or a single growing season, but many farms over many seasons. The process is slower, but the gains and losses are proportional.

Consider what at first appears to be a conflict; between the “dominion” offered over all the earth in the Genesis quotation above, and the equally ancient ideas set forth in the words of Chief Seattle of the Suquamish people: “This we know: the earth does not belong to man, man belongs to the earth.” But Seattle goes on: “All things are connected like the blood that unites us all. Man did not weave the web of life; he is merely a strand in it. Whatever he does to the web, he does to himself.” Starts to sound a lot like Matthew 25, doesn’t it? “As ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.”

Taken together, the words of Old and New Testament, as well as those of Chief Seattle, draw a picture of a world where humans are not ruthless dictators of the planet, but attentive gardeners, nurturing it. “Dominion” means more than just the power to do as you please, to run roughshod over the planet pillaging and plundering. It involves respecting, tending, caring, and sustaining. It involves stewardship. This is why it is antithetical for the “Christian right” to stand against the “environmental left.” In the beginning, God created a garden.

A farmer, who cares for the quality of his product and the quality of his family’s life, cares for the soil. An agribusiness worker, who cares for his job security and the bottom line, douses the soil with poisons that pollute not just his land, but the land, water and air of the whole world. The farmer believes that he is a steward of the land, working in harmony with the structures and the diversity nature provides. The agribusiness worker believes that he and distant corporate executives know better than nature how to produce the food the world needs.

When Wendell Berry said, “eating is an agricultural act,” he illuminated the connections, between the plant and the plate, between the farm and the family, between the harvest and the hearth. Eating is not merely consuming, it is the vital link in the food chain that makes us who we are. When we plant a seed in the springtime, we are praying for our families to be happier, healthier, and stronger when the harsh realities of winter circle around again.