Category Archives: Environment

Environment, Food for Thought

Sustainable Seafood?

On Wednesday, on MPBN’s show Maine Calling, the subject was sustainable seafood. While I made an apple pie, I listened with interest because lately I’ve been wondering if there is such a thing as sustainable seafood, and I was curious what the gist of the show would be. The program was hosted by Keith Shortall, and the guests were Jen Levin, Sustainable Seafood Project Manager, Gulf of Maine Research Institute, and Barton Seavor, chef and author of four cook books.

Shortall began the program by acknowledging that we “know some of the most popular fish are in trouble because of overfishing,” and much of the show revolved around encouraging people to turn to “underutilized fish” such as dogfish, Atlantic pollock, and whiting, all species that, according to Jen Levin, are flourishing.

When the question arose of what exactly sustainability meant in terms of seafood, Barton Seavor did recognize that one aspect involved promoting thriving, resilient species. But, and it’s a big but, he went on to state that “ultimately the measure of sustainability must fundamentally be measured by the ability of human beings to thrive.” Levin did add that a growing population needed to live within its means.

Now, I’m distilling an hour show into a post for a blog, and as such, I can only include snippets of what the guests discussed. Readers who are interested in this subject—sustainability and seafood—should listen to the podcast for a longer, more complete version of what Shortall and his guests actually said.  However, not once during that hour-long show did I hear about the importance of abundant fish to the vast, interconnected chain of life in the ocean or of how quickly humans can change abundance to scarcity, even when fish seem to be plentiful.

For this we must turn to Sylvia Earle, author, marine biologist, former chief scientist of NOAA, and “National Geographic explorer in residence.” As Sylvia Earle eloquently puts it, “[T]he ocean is the cornerstone of Earth’s life support system, it shapes climate and weather. It holds most of the life on Earth. It is the blue heart of the planet.” (I must admit that I was surprised to learn that most of the oxygen in Earth’s atmosphere is generated by life in the sea. I thought that trees and plants had a much larger role.)

I am currently reading Earle’s book The World is Blue, where she clearly and beautifully explains the importance of the abundance of fish and other creatures to the health of the ocean and indeed the planet.  Earle writes, “There is no surplus in a natural, healthy system. What appears to be overabundance to human observers is a natural insurance policy against population reduction by diseases, storms, ups and downs of predators and food supply…” and “[S]pecies do not live in isolation. They are integrated into exceedingly complex systems…the first fish to be taken from an unexploited population are the largest…the ‘old timers’…They are also the ones that produce the most offspring.”

So here are my questions: Does anyone know what a truly sustainable harvest of dogfish, Atlantic pollack, and whiting would be? Are we viewing them as so abundant that we think we can eat them on a regular basis? If so, is this a correct assumption?

Sylvia Earle indicates this is not the case at all. On NPR’s The Bob Edwards Show, Earle said that she doesn’t eat fish and instead eats a plant-based diet. In a recent interview in The Guardian, Earle was asked, “What about eating fish sustainably? For instance, trading top predators for smaller fish?”

Earle replied, “I think that’s disastrous, really…. The large fish have to eat the small fish. We have choices; they do not….  And there’s another aspect as well. All fish are critical when you think of them as middlemen, because they consume phytoplankton and zooplankton, the little guys that the big fish cannot access….we shouldn’t take fish on a large-scale basis; there’s simply no capacity left to do this.”

Except for island nations that don’t have much of a choice, Earle believes that fish are wildlife that should be left in the ocean, Earth’s “blue heart,” from which most of our oxygen comes and has developed over hundreds of millions of years.

So, two opposing views. The first, espoused by Keith Shortall’s guests was that even though fish such as cod have been overfished, there are plenty of overlooked and underutilized fish in the sea to eat. And we should do so eagerly. The second, put forth by Sylvia Earle, is that the oceans are in such peril that we shouldn’t be eating fish and seafood on any kind of regular basis. Once in a great while, at the most.

Even though I love seafood and could eat it several times a week, I’m casting my lot with the marine biologist. Sylvia Earle has been studying the ocean for decades and has lived long enough to see the terrible degradation of the world’s oceans as we humans eat our way through the fish and other creatures that live in the sea.

For me and for my husband Clif, it will be mostly plants that we eat.

 

 

Environment

The People’s Climate March: A Good Planet is Hard to Find

IMG_6610Today, in New York City thousands and thousands of people walked in the People’s Climate March, a coming together of organizations and individuals to protest the inaction on climate change. Oh, how Clif and I wanted to go, but for a variety of reasons we had to stay put at the little house in the big woods. In our opinion, climate change is the biggest issue of our times, and while the world heats up, our leaders fiddle and fiddle. Instead of putting money, energy, and resources into solar and wind power, the powers that be foolishly and destructively continue their quest to extract as much fossil fuel as they can from rocks, from tar sands, from mines, and from the ocean.

Clif and I might not have been able to participate in the People’s Climate March, but we watched some of it live, courtesy of Amy Goodman and Democracy Now! As Goodman noted, this is the largest climate march in history, with “people as far as the eye can see.” And indeed there was an incredible stretch of people up and down the street. Many of the people looked like everyday folks—running the gamut from very young to quite old. Of course, there were some exotic folks, too, dancing in gauzy costumes and doing their best to look like Stevie Nicks in her younger days. U.N. Secretary-General Ban Ki-moon marched, and so did the actor Mark Ruffalo. Ditto for Al Gore and Leonardo DiCaprio.

To get to this historic march, people walked across the country or took the Climate Train. Some even biked. Bus loads came from Maine, and, I expect, from other parts of the country that were vaguely within driving distance of New York City. Meanwhile, there were similar events in England, Germany, and many other countries.

Amy Goodman, normally quite reserved, had clearly caught the spirit of the climate march. “Something is coalescing,” she said, and there was a decided sparkle in her voice. “There is a turning of the tide.”

Oh, we hope so. This problem is so big that it needs to be addressed at all levels—from government policy to individual action. Clif and I try very hard to do our part—by buying as much local and organic as the budget will allow, by combining  errands so that we don’t drive unnecessarily, by not overconsuming. But there must be structural changes as our society turns from using fossil fuels to using renewable energy, and our leaders must initiate those changes.

In honor of the People’s Climate March, we decided that today would be a no-car day. We took the dog for a walk to the Narrows, where I snapped some pictures of leaves just beginning to turn. The day was overcast, with the sun breaking through here and there, making the water glimmer.

I was reminded of a sign we saw in the People’s Climate March: “A good planet is hard to find. Let’s save this one.”

Yes, yes.

Addendum: According to an article from Reuters, posted after the event, there were 310,000 people at the Climate March in New York. No wonder Amy Goodman was so enthusiastic!

Community, Environment, News

The Somerset Grist Mill

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On Saturday, September 8th, a misty morning, my husband, Clif, and I drove to Skowhegan, about an hour from where we live, to the grand opening of the Somerset Grist Mill, a $1.5 million dollar project that has been in the works for just three years. The road was shiny and dark, and as we went up and down hills, we rode past fields as bright a green in September as they were in June. This central Maine region, where the Kennebec River flows, is a fertile part of Maine. Also, once there were many mills in Skowhegan, mills where my grandparents worked, but most of the mills have closed—New Balance is the happy exception. So in a way, the Somerset Grist Mill combines two historical strengths of this region—the mills and agriculture.

Skowhegan, a county seat, has a reputation for being a depressed area, where many people receive state and federal aid. Yet in the parking lot next to the grist mill was a farmers’ market with 20 vendors or so, and business was brisk. In this market, I felt an energy and an exuberance that, if carried forward, could balance and perhaps even lessen the hard times of this mill town.

The grist mill, owned by business partners Amber Lambke and Michael Scholz, is in what was once the sprawling Somerset County Jail, which was built in 1897 and is in downtown Skowhegan, within walking distance of a cinema, a bakery, and other shops. Lambke and Scholz bought the jail for $65,000, and at the grand opening, we learned that the height of the jail was one of its chief features—gravity could be used to bring grain to the various machines.

The tour started at 10:00, and there must have been at least 100 people waiting by the wooden doors. In fact, there were so many of us that the group had to be split in half, and even then, it was still crowded. As with the farmers’ market, there was a feeling of energy and exuberance.

Before the tour, Lambke gave a brief history of the mill, of how the idea sprang from the 2007 Kneading Conference, held in Skowhegan at the end of July. There were no commercial grist mills in central Maine, and the feeling was that a grist mill would be a place that would bring bakers and wood-fired oven makers together with grain growers. Perhaps even more important, the grist mill would encourage the rebuilding of a grain-growing economy that was once so vital to this area.

In addition, the old county jail was big enough to house other businesses, ones that would be in keeping with the grist mill’s philosophy of the importance of local businesses and local economies. Already, there were a yarn shop, a pottery studio, a café, a place where people pick up their CSA deliveries, and the Tech Spot, where teenagers help older folks become more comfortable using computers.

Then the tour began, where we duly admired the various machines—most of them old and bought second hand but one of them brand new, made in Austria with such beautiful blond wood that it almost looked like a work of art. We learned that enough Maine farmers were growing various grains—wheat, oats, and rye, to name a few—that the mill would have no trouble remaining open during the winter.

The finished products will be sold at the grist mill as well as at various stores around the state. So Maine readers, keep your eyes open for flour and other grains that have been ground at the Somerset Grist Mill. Buy these products whenever you can. As I have noted in a previous piece, with climate change and its disruptions, Maine might once again become a breadbasket, and we can only be thankful that people such as Lambke and Scholz had the foresight to open a grist mill right now, in Skowhegan, Maine.

(Click on any of the pictures below to see the pictures as an onscreen slide show)

 

Environment, News

THE 2012 BREAD FAIR IN SKOWHEGAN, MAINE

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On Saturday, my husband, Clif, and I went to Skowhegan, Maine, to the Bread Fair, which is part of the Kneading Conference presented by the Maine Grain Alliance. The first Kneading Conference was held in 2007, and according to their website, the conference “began with a group of Skowhegan residents who were motivated by the need to address wheat production as an important cornerstone of a growing local food movement.” Right now, most of our wheat comes from places such as Kansas or North Dakota, but it wasn’t always this way. Until the mid-1800s, wheat production in Somerset County—Skowhegan is the county seat—fed over 100,000 people each year, and central Maine was known as one of New England’s breadbaskets. Now, “less than 1% of Maine’s wheat demand is actually grown in Maine.”

Those from away, who associate Maine with the rocky coastline, could be forgiven for wondering how in the world Maine could have produced so much wheat. While it’s true that our coastline, as a rule, has thin soil, this is not the case with central Maine, which is farming and dairy country, and it is especially not the case with Aroostook County, where so many potatoes are grown. In Maine, there is a huge swatch of land with deep, rich soil, and although our growing season is shorter than it is in other states, it is certainly long enough to grow an abundance of food, including various grains. And, we have a trump card that might be especially important as we deal with the ravages of climate change—abundant rainfall, at least for now. But more about that later.

A bit more history about the Kneading Conference, which again, was taken from their website: “2011 was a milestone year: we received nonprofit status as the Maine Grain Alliance; we helped organize the first Kneading Conference West in Mount Vernon, Washington; and we purchased a portable wood-fired oven to use for school and community educational workshops and for fundraising.”

For the past few years, I have wanted to go to the Bread Fair, but something always came up, and I wasn’t able to go. This year, however, the calendar was clear, and off Clif and I went, north to Skowhegan, which, as it happens, was where my mother and father grew up.

Any kind of event that features lots of food vendors in one place, an event where you can go from table to table, sampling their wares, is my kind of event, and I had a great time trying various bread and pastries. The Bread Fair was rather small, with about 50 vendors, and there were hundreds of people rather than thousands and thousands, the way there are at the Common Ground Country Fair. In truth, the smaller size of the Bread Fair was much more to my liking than the jammed Common Ground Fair. At the Bread Fair, it was easy to talk to the vendors, buy this and that, and find a place to sit down to enjoy what you just purchased. And while the Bread Fair was small, it was lively, with a nice mix of bakers, crafters, and informational tables along with some vendors offering professional products.

The crowd at the Bread Fair

So what did Clif and I eat? I’m almost a little embarrassed to list how much we ate: Sour dough bread from Borealis Bread; a chocolate croissant from Snowy Hill Bakery; and from Good Bread a pretzel that tasted as though it had been boiled but wasn’t—I was told it was cooked “the way it’s done in Germany.” A cupcake and a cream horn from The Bankery as well as a slice of pizza baked in Maine Grain Alliance’s wood-fired oven. Another pretzel from another vendor, The Bread Shack. Not surprisingly, by afternoon Clif and I started to hit a bread wall after a morning of carbs, but readers, all of it was very, very good.

Pretzels and…
A cream horn and…
Pizza, oh my!

In my next post, I’ll focus on some of the people I met at the Bread Fair, but I’d like to conclude with an idea I touched on earlier in this piece. That is, with climate change, the resurgence of growing wheat in Maine can only be a good thing. The withering droughts in the United States spell nothing but bad news for food prices in the upcoming years. It makes sense to grow food in places such as central Maine where the soil is good and where there is abundant rainfall. The same is true for livestock and poultry, but this is a piece about wheat and bread, so I’ll leave that topic for another time.

No one, of course, knows what the future will bring. Maybe the drought will be a one-time event, and next year will be a better growing season for America’s bread basket. But maybe it won’t. According to climate scientists, droughts, in some parts of the world, are to become more and more common as the planet heats up. If those scientists are right, then in the upcoming years, Mainers, and perhaps even those in other New England states, will be very grateful that there was “a group of Skowhegan residents who were motivated by the need to address wheat production as an important cornerstone of a growing local food movement.”

Maine just might become a bread basket once more.

Environment, News

THE FARMERS’ GATE MARKET AND A DILEMMA FOR ME

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Last Saturday was quite the foodie day for me and my husband, Clif. First, we went to the Winthrop Farmers’ Market, where we bought a great new cheese from Wholesome Holmstead, a farmhouse cheddar that is delicate yet has a nice tang. Very good! After that, we buzzed over to Farmer Kev’s house to pay him for the balance of our CSA share and to buy 2 dozen eggs. Then it was on to the Farmers’ Gate Market in Wales to pick up meat for our Memorial Day barbecue.

We had never been to Farmers’ Gate before, but we had heard good things about it from some of our friends. Recently, we had won a $25 gift certificate to Farmers’ Gate, and Clif and I decided that Memorial Day weekend would be the perfect time to check out the market and buy some meat.

Now, I want to remind readers that not long ago, I had made a decision not to eat meat anymore. Seafood and fish, yes, but not meat. For me, the decision was ethical—if I wasn’t willing to kill what I was going to eat, then I wouldn’t eat it, and fish and lobsters were as high up the food chain as I was willing to go. There were some gray areas. (Aren’t there always?) I would still eat eggs and dairy products, and there is a certain amount of killing that goes on to keep production flowing. And what about leather shoes? Should I buy them anymore? Probably not. But these questions aside, by and large, I was happy with my decision. I prefer fish and seafood over meat, and as Clif and I had been eating mostly vegetarian for quite some time, it was no hardship to adhere to this way of eating. That is, until I went to Farmers’ Gate Market. (I want to note that Clif had decided to continue to eat meat occasionally, and Shannon and Mike regularly eat meat.)

However, let us return to the Farmers’ Gate Market. Those who are familiar with central Maine will know that Wales is not exactly in the center of all things. Tucked between Augusta and Lewiston, Wales has a population of about 1,300, and it is very rural. Thus, to borrow a phrase from my friend Claire, the Farmers’ Gate Market “is way out in the willywhacks.”

“I wasn’t expecting much,” Clif would admit later, as we drove through the countryside to the Farmers’ Gate, and I think he envisioned going into someone’s shed or barn to get the meat.

What we found was a small yet decent-sized market that would not be out of place in Portland. The building is new and attractive, with plenty of room for a retail shop with a long glass case featuring various cuts of meat. There were also a freezer and a couple of large, glass upright refrigerators. In the back, visible to customers, was a room for preparing the meat.

So far, so good. I was ready to buy meat for my family, but I did not feel tempted myself. And then I spoke with Ben Slayton, one of the owners, who is young, very personable, and especially excited about sausage, which is one of Clif’s weaknesses. With great enthusiasm, Ben spoke about the Tuscan sausage, which he had made using garlic and fennel, and he suggested using it in a dish with white beans and sage. Ben then went on to explain how he and his wife had spent time in Tuscany, learning, among other things, how to make sausage.

Ben Slayton

Was I hooked? You bet I was, and we bought sausage, ground beef, and, for the Memorial Day barbecue, three thick pork chops. (One each for Clif, Mike, and Shannon. None for me.) Ben’s enthusiasm was infectious, as the saying goes, and it made me want to try the various meat, especially the sausage.

Did I give in to temptation? Yes, I did. Clif makes an especially tasty chili-powder rub for pork chops, and on Sunday, he grilled the chops just right, so that they were thoroughly cooked but still moist. I had to have a couple of bites, to see how the meat was, and it was delicious.

So now what? “How can you be a foodie without eating meat?” Clif asked. “You are leaving out about half the food that people eat.” I know, but I just feel so bad for the animals that are killed, and as far as the environment goes, it is better to eat a vegetarian diet.

“Eat meat once in awhile,” Mike suggested. “And when you do, get it from a place like the Farmers’ Gate.”

Perhaps that is what I will do. Maine has a climate that can support cows, sheep, and pigs. There is plenty of land for grazing, and enough rainfall for lush pastures and hay. According to their website, the Farmers’ Gate is very choosy about which farms their meat comes from, and they are especially concerned about getting meat from animals that have been pasture fed and raised humanely.

It looks as though there this will be another compromise on the bumpy road of green, ethical living. One thing is certain—it’s not easy being a foodie with a conscience.

Environment

SUNDAY BIKE RIDE

Our bikes in front of Pete’s Roast Beef

For one day a week—sometimes two when schedules allow—my husband, Clif, and I plan to have no-car days, when the car doesn’t leave the driveway, and we either walk or ride our bikes. As our friend Dawna Leavitt has observed, people shouldn’t be using oil (or gasoline) at all, but in central Maine, it is practically impossible to live without a car. However, Clif and I love to ride our bikes, and we use them for both pleasure and for transportation. We are also lucky in that we only live a mile from Winthrop Village, which has a nifty library, several places to eat, a grocery store, a post office, well, most of the things a village should have.

Last Sunday was a sunny but oh so windy day. Nevertheless, Clif and I deemed it to be a no-car day, and off we went on our bikes, to Pete’s Roast Beef, where we did not get roast beef. I have pretty much eschewed meat, but at Pete’s Roast Beef, they also have fried Maine shrimp on the menu. I ordered shrimp and so did Clif. Although they were frozen and breaded, the shrimp were quite good—sweet with a crispy exterior. As Sunday was a cheat day for me, we also had a large order of fries.

Sweet Maine shrimp

Thus fortified, off we set for a ride along Lake Maranacook. The wind did blow, sometimes pushing us sideways. Our fingers, in their half-gloves, were cold, and our noses were red and runny. The lake was a chill blue with choppy white caps, but along the road there were patches of spring flowers. Despite the wind, we pushed on and went 8 miles, a short but acceptable run.

On our way back, we stopped at Mia Lina’s, not for pizza—we do have our limits—but rather for whoopie pies to bring home and have with tea.

With fingers tingling, how good that tea and the whoopie pies tasted. But even though the ride was cold and windy, it was still a good ride. As I’m fond of saying, any day you can go on a bike ride is a good day. I should also add, any time you can leave your car in the driveway is a good day.

Environment

EARTH DAY WEEKEND—THE POTLUCK

A busy but oh-so-good Earth Day weekend. So busy that I’m going to devote two separate posts to the weekend—one post for the Winthrop Green Committee’s potluck and the other for the festive birthday weekend we hosted for our daughter Shannon.

In short, the potluck, held at Winthrop High School, was a smashing success. Lots of very good food and much of it from local sources, which is a challenge in April, when fresh, local veggies are far and few between. Among other things, we had salads made from greens grown in a cold frame; deviled eggs and a quiche made with local eggs; local strawberries—frozen and thawed, of course—for dessert; ice cream made from local milk; mashed potatoes with goat cheese; chili made with local beef, sausage, and kidney beans; and pasta and cheese made with local butter, milk, and cheese.

Truly, it was inspiring to see what could be made from food that was available from Maine.

Equally good was the conversation, much of which revolved around food. (No surprise!) One topic was how food likes and dislikes were often a matter of taste, and I told of two foods—cilantro and goat cheese—that I initially didn’t like at all but have come to love. How does that happen? How do you go from not liking a food to loving it so much that you crave it? A curious process that shows just how mutable taste can be. Initially, I had the common complaint about cilantro—too soapy, too strong—but I kept eating it because I am of the firm opinion that food fussiness belongs to children, not to adults. Suddenly, something clicked, and I became absolutely besotted with cilantro, using it in foods whenever I could. The same thing is true with goat cheese, which tasted too “goaty” to me. (A silly description, I know.) But as I did with cilantro, I kept eating goat cheese, and now when I am served goat cheese and crackers, I am as greedy an eater as the next person.

Another topic we discussed: Could Winthrop feed itself? The answer was yes and no. Right now, Winthrop does not produce enough food to feed its 6,000 people, and as Farmer Kev has discovered, finding open land for farming in Winthrop is not easy. However, Anne Trenholm, from Wholesome Holmstead, observed that once upon a time, Winthrop had little mills and factories where food was processed. So it is possible, but it would require a lot of planning and very mindful use of land.

As the price of oil goes up, will we return to local plants that grind, freeze, and can food? It’s my guess that we will.

We also talked about having another local food event, perhaps in the fall, to coincide with the harvest. I hope we do. I just love these local food potlucks.

Finally, special thanks must go to Steve Knight, fellow “green bean,” scrounge extraordinaire, and Winthrop High School teacher. Not only did Steve unlock the high school for us, but he also brought table clothes and reusable utensils and plates for people to use. After the dinner was done, he took the plates and utensils back home to be washed.

Many thanks, Steve!

Environment

SCROUNGED

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Whenever I go to our town’s transfer station (formerly called “the dump”), I am always on the lookout for useful items that have been discarded. While our transfer station doesn’t have an actual swap building—how I wish it did—it does have a table where people can put things that are still somewhat useful. There is also a huge box for discarded books, and I have found a gem or two in there.

Unfortunately, not everyone uses the table. A while back, when I was at the transfer station, I saw a man throw three perfectly good braided chair pads—they looked as though they were brand new—into the central pit. As it happens, those chair pads were exactly what I had in mind for the chairs around our dining room table, and three would have brought me half-way to my goal. Why would he just throw the chair pads away? It was beyond my comprehension. I stared at the chair pads for quite a while, considering how I might retrieve them, and I felt very bitter feelings toward this man for just flinging the pads into the pit.

However, I knew they were lost. Steve Knight, who teaches science at the high school, recently told me that he is no longer allowed to retrieve items from the pit. He was told that it’s too dangerous, which, of course, it is.  A funny story about Steve Knight, who is such a dedicated scrounger that he makes me look like a piker: Not long ago, someone asked Margy, his wife, if Steve had retired from his job at the high school to work at the transfer station. Steve was at the transfer station so often and seemed so much a part of things that it looked as though he worked there. No, Margy replied, laughing, Steve has not retired from teaching science at the high school. He just likes scrounging at the transfer station.

A couple of weeks ago, I found something at the transfer station that almost made up for the chair pads. It was a blender, an Osterizer, quite dirty but with an intact glass carafe. For a few minutes I debated with myself. Should I take it home? Technically, we don’t need a blender. We have a food processor and an immersion blender. But there are times when only an actual blender will do the trick, say, when you want crushed ice for some kind of drink or a really smooth smoothie. There was also the distinct possibility that it didn’t work, that it really was trash. Finally I grabbed it, thinking, “Oh, what the heck! What’s the worst that can happen? It won’t work, and then I’ll bring it back next week.”

Now, I have often and openly admitted how unhandy I am, and it really is a trial. Luckily, I am married to a man who is quite handy, and after fiddling with the blender, my husband, Clif, said, “Well, it doesn’t work, but it’s not because the motor is shot.” Rather, it was because someone had foolishly put the little rubber gasket under the blade, thus ruining both. A quick Internet search revealed that we could order the gasket and blade for $6.50 with free shipping. Clif ordered them that day.

We put the glass carafe and the cover in our dish washer to give them a good cleaning, and we scrubbed the base with window cleaner and rubbing alcohol until the base was so shiny that I could see my own reflection in it.

A week later, the blade and gasket came in. Clif assembled the blender, and violà! It worked. Smooth smoothies and crushed ice, here we come. Just in time for summer.

There are, of course, a couple of morals to this story. First, we got a perfectly good blender for $6.50. We also saved the blender from going into the trash before its time and adding to the mountain—and I mean this literally—of trash in a landfill just outside of Bangor.

But there is also a larger story. In this country, there is such a surplus that people throw away perfectly good items before they are truly trash. I’ve reflected on this as I buy hardly-worn clothes at the consignment shop in town. Who would get rid of such nice clothes? Lucky for me, some women do, and thanks to them, I can spend my money on things that really matter—a handmade pottery platter for a bridal shower present, a meal at a local restaurant, a CSA share from Farmer Kev, organic food. A play at the Theater at Monmouth.

So while a part of me cluck, clucks over such wastefulness, a part of me is glad to be the recipient of such items.

 

Animals - especially dogs, Environment, Food for Thought

FURTHER DOWN THE ROAD TOWARD VEGETARIANISM: DON’T EAT WHAT YOU AREN’T WILLING TO KILL

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I love animals and I have for as long as I can remember. Dogs are at the top of my list and so are horses, but not far behind come cats. I also like chickens, goats, pigs, sheep, and cows. Wild animals are a source of beauty and wonder for me, and I even have sympathy for the little creeping creatures that sometimes make their way into my house. Then there are birds, those fluttering beauties who grace the woods, the fields, and, best of all for me, my backyard.

Here’s a funny thing: I am quite claustrophobic, and I hate being squeezed in by people, which means when I go to the movies, I am not comfortable unless I sit in an aisle seat. However, I have no problem being squeezed by the dog and the cats, and often times, when I am reading on the couch, I’ll have a cat in my lap and a dog pressed up against me. Somehow, this feels cozy and comforting.

So, how does someone who loves animals so much eat them? Especially the ones who live miserable lives on factory farms, which are not only bad for the animals but are also bad for the environment? I’ve asked myself this over the years, and I have come to the conclusion that I am a very queasy carnivore who has more than once considered becoming a vegetarian. As a result of this questioning, last year my husband, Clif, and I resolved to eat mostly vegetarian, with meat added once or twice a week for a treat. We would, however, continue to eat some dairy and eggs.

I am happy to report that we stuck to our resolution, and our meat consumption went down tremendously over the year. Mark Bittman’s How to Cook Everything Vegetarian has been a tremendous help as have my Moosewood cookbooks. In the process, Clif and I discovered what we really already knew: There are so many wonderful vegetarian things to eat, and this variety means we don’t miss meat—at least not too much. But we both like meat—there’s no point in denying this—and we enjoyed our twice-a-week meat indulgences.

However, even this reduced meat consumption still made me queasy, and not long ago, I asked myself the question: What would you be willing to kill to eat?

I started at the bottom with clams, which I have happily dug without one twinge of conscience, and scallops, mussels, and other bivalves fall into the same category. Shrimp are a little higher up, but it would not bother me to catch and eat them. The next level includes crabs, lobsters, and fish, and here things become a little more equivocal. I’ve cooked lobster and have eaten fish that I’ve caught. I don’t enjoy the process, but I can and have done it. What about chicken? No. I’ve seen my father kill them, and I didn’t want any part of the process. Sheep, goats, cows, rabbits? Not unless I was literally starving to death.

After reviewing what I would be willing to kill to eat, I came to the next question: Is it ethical to eat food you wouldn’t be willing to kill yourself? For me, the answer has come to be no. If I’m not willing to kill it, then I shouldn’t eat it, even though I have for many years. My love and sympathy for animals stop me from going too far up the food chain when it comes to killing.

The time had come, I decided, to go to the next level, to only eat and cook what I would be willing to harvest or kill—mostly vegetarian with the occasional fish, bivalve, or crustacean added for variety. I discussed this with Clif, and he was willing to go along with this scheme, albeit not quite as completely as I am. For example, when eating out, Clif might still order a meat dish, but he said he would be perfectly happy to eat this way at home. Fair enough. We all have to make our own decisions.

I want to conclude by noting that even with this new eating regime, I don’t plan on applying for sainthood anytime soon. I still have plenty of gray areas in my life. The cats and dog eat food with meat, and that’s just the way it goes. They are carnivores. I still plan to eat eggs and dairy. The eggs come from Farmer Kev, whose chickens live nice lives, and the dairy is either organic and/or local. And, yes, I realize that to keep the eggs and dairy coming, some killing is often involved, however indirectly. But I just can’t give eggs and dairy up yet.

So onward I go, thinking about food as well as cooking and eating it. Will I ever become a vegan? Only time will tell.

 

 

 

 

Environment, Food for Thought, People

RESOURCEFULNESS AND CREATIVITY: VISITING WITH JOHN AND BETH CLARK

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Last Saturday, we visited with our friends Beth and John Clark in Hartland, about an hour from where we live. They had invited us over to their home for dinner and afterwards we went to a community play in a nearby town. Before dinner, we sat in their cozy living room, made even cozier by a pellet stove, and John told us about his new book-selling venture as we ate cheese and crackers.

A bit of backstory first: John is the town’s librarian, and while there are volunteers, I believe he is the only paid employee. Hartland is small and poor, and not surprisingly it doesn’t have much of a budget for the library. Has this deterred John? It has not. He has a knack for acquiring inexpensive books and DVDs, which he either adds to the library’s collection or sells online so that he can then buy something for the library. He acquires the books and DVDs in a variety of ways—through donations and through scrounging at the town’s transfer station (aka the dump). John has become so well known at the transfer station that the workers now set aside books they think he will want. At a very low price, John also acquired the collection of an entire library, which was closing, but that is a whole story in itself, and I won’t be going into it here.

Because of John’s resourcefulness, Hartland library has a decent collection of books and DVDs, and the library has become a real hub in a community that has seen more than its share of hard times. (John has also made the library a welcome place for people just scraping by, who need his help in a variety of other ways.)

After years of scrounging and selling second-hand books for the library, John has decided he likes it so much that he has started a little part-time book-selling business for himself, which he will expand when he retires. (I want to hasten to add that John is still devoted to the library and does all that he can to enhance its collection. He has plenty of energy for both himself and the library.) For his own business, he and Beth go to thrift shops and book sales, looking for items to sell online through Amazon. They make a great team. John has acquired the knowledge of what sells and what doesn’t, and Beth is organized and methodical and conscientious. John has such faith in Beth’s abilities that he gives her money, and on Saturdays off she goes by herself to sales to scout for books while John is working at the library.

Now, the point of this piece is not to brag about John and Beth, although I am very happy to do so. The point is to illustrate how creative resourcefulness, hard work, and team work can enhance the life of a community and a family, and, by extension, the world. (In their thrift store/book sale forays, John and Beth even find children’s books for their daughter Lisa, who teaches in the Bronx.) It shows how one might thrive in a world of finite resources and an ever-growing population, in a world of peak oil and “peak everything.”

Books and libraries are just one example, but John and Beth’s approach can be applied to other aspects of life. Let’s take food, one of my favorite subjects. In a household, a frugal, creative cook can do a lot with basic ingredients and scraps saved from previous meals. I have used the bones of barbecued chicken to make a mostly-bean soup with a zesty broth. Last night, I saved water from cooking broccoli to use as the base of a soup that will include leftover pasta, tomatoes, white beans, and rosemary.

On a broader scope, there is gleaning of fruit and vegetables that would go to waste. On a walk this fall, I went through a little apartment complex with an apple tree, and there, on the ground, were bunches of rotting apples. Perhaps they weren’t good eating apples, but they would have made good jelly. Another way to conserve resources is to make use of slightly outdated food that is still good. There is plenty of room for improvement here, which I have discussed in previous posts. Despite our country’s hard times, we are still a wasteful nation. However, my town’s food pantry and the Hot Meals Kitchen does use food that would otherwise have been thrown out. And, yes, I admire the dumpster divers, who retrieve perfectly good food.

To my way of thinking, the heroes of the 21st century are not people like Steve Jobs, however admirable he might have been. Rather, they are people like John and Beth whose careful and creative use of resources show us an alternative to heedless waste and consumerism. They show all of us that there is a better way to live, and we would do well to follow their examples.