Yet Another (Boring) Plea For Clear Thinking About Food

As you may have noticed, posts have been few/far between because I'm immersed in writing the new book (and my poor brain has balked at being spread so thin). But I can't let this go past unnoticed. "This" being a post over at Sam Fromartz's ChewsWise blog. (*1)

Although the blog is Fromartz's,  this particular blog entry was written by Lisa M. Hamilton, who is the author of Deeply Rooted.

A bit of background: The midwest has had an exceptionally wet October. Here in Iowa, October was one of the wettest months on record. This is bad news for farmers because they can't harvest crops in wet weather. When the weather stays wet and the crops stay in the ground, they run the risk of losing those crops.

According to Hamilton, the problem is not the weather, but that modern farming

relies on a precise set of conditions: cheap fuel, ample water, stable climate . . .

The implication is that, bare minimum, this "unstable" weather has caused the system to go haywire.

Really? Weather is by nature (no pun intended) unstable and generally cyclical. Has this been a wet fall? Yep. Has it happened before? Yep. Is there a chance that soon we'll have a too-dry summer, which will also wreak havoc in the fields? Yep.

Because that's what weather does. That's what weather always does: it runs in cycles. I can rattle off examples of disastrous crop years past, when farmers scrambled to figure out how to cope with too much rain, too little rain, rain at the wrong time.

Moreover, she shows a short-sighted knowledge of the history of crop breeding. She writes that

Rather than focus solely on yield or specific items such as drought-tolerance or herbicide resistance, we need varieties that can flex along with whatever conditions they encounter.

I don't think Hamilton understands that for the past two centuries, American farmers have bred corn and wheat varieties for climate, soil, terrain, and just about anything else you can think of that might affect it, including drought and excessive moisture.

Yes, you read that correctly: several centuries.

American farmers today use herbicides and pesticides and  various patented seeds. But those tools are just contemporary examples of the long, long  history of crop experimentation and manipulation. For two centuries, farmers have designed crops that will "flex with whatever conditions they encounter" --- precisely because they encountered different sets of conditions.

Of course crop breeding isn't perfect, and farmers have no choice but to aim at averages: What is the climate in, say, South Carolina, usually like? What kinds of wheat will grow in Kansas? In general, what kind of climate can we expect in Iowa? How can I make a variety of corn or wheat that will grow well in most years?

Farmers can't, however, manage  cycles of weather that happen, well, cyclically. No, I'm not saying there's not a climate crisis. I'm saying, based on fifty-plus years of living in the midwest, that weather follows clear and regular cycles. Farmers know that. They expect it. They plan accordingly. But they can't nail the mark every time. They can't adjust corn varieties fast enough to adjust to short-term weather patterns or even odd patterns like the one we're experiencing this year. Nor, obviously, can they know when the cycle will shift, at least not with any great precision.

Put another way, I suspect many people will blame this result's of this year's (likely) bad harvest on "corporate" and "industrial" farming --- and they'll do so because they haven't taken the time to look at the long view of the big picture of farming's history.

I reiterate what I've said here before: I'm not anti-good food. I'm not pro-"Corporate Farming." I am, however, a supporter of clear thinking, reason, and knowledge. And I tend to be a Ranty McPanty when it comes to ill-informed "information." Hamilton's essay, which is otherwise well-written, is yet another example of gross generalization and hasty thinking that marks so much of what's being tossed around these days in the name of  the "food crisis."

____________

*1: Sam is the author of  Organic, Inc., a superb book that has not gotten the attention it deserves, especially not from the "locavore/profood" community.

Backstage at "Beer Wars," Via Greg Koch

Who knew? Turns out there was a method to Greg's madness backstage at the "Beer Wars" premiere. He had a phone/camera/something in his hands the entire time (and the "entire time" was hours on end). What was he doing? Making a "vblog." Which, mercifully, he edited down to eight minutes.

So if you want to know part of what happened backstage, have at it. Sadly, he didn't include any of what happened after the film ended --- when Sam, having been corralled entirely too long, went in search of beer. (And could not find any.) (I'm not kidding.)

Now Playing: Tan Dun's Symphony 1997

On a day of tragedy, a powerful expression of the human spirit.

"Bob" Veal: What's New Is . . . Um, Old

There's really not much new under the sun, as evidenced by this article. (Warning: If you're squeamish, you may want to take a pass.)

Nineteenth-century Americans routinely sold, bought, and ate "bob veal." Many people regarded it as a delicacy; others were horrified at the idea. In either case, outrage over the notion of "bob veal" surfaced with yawn-inducing regularity. As it has, apparently, right in the here and now of the twenty-first century.

And it's not just bob veal that got Americans cranked up. Every so often, someone would launch a crusade about slaughterhouse cruelty, about its impact on animals and humans. Etc.

Remember the uproar in early 2008 about "inhumane" practices at a California slaughterhouse? (I commented on it at the time. You can read that here and here.) As I noted then, there's nothing new there. Dig around in nineteenth century newspapers, you'll find hundreds of examples of that same story.

It all comes down to choices: If you want meat, well, there's a price to pay. And there's no way to produce affordable meat without, well, skinning a few calves. (Yes, for those who are wondering, I do eat meat.)

Tip o' the mug to Chris Raines for pointing me toward this story. He blogs here. Follow him on Twitter, too: @ITweetMeat.

In the Kitchen: Chicken, Chard, and Barley Soup

It's November 1. (Or will be by the time you read this.) You're seriously overdosed on shitty candy. The antidote? Soup. No doubt there are bazillions of versions of this dish out there, because this is an obvious combination of foods. This particular version is what came out of my brain and cupboard one night.

Serve it with this: Slice a baguette lengthwise. Spread both pieces with salted butter. Set under the broiler for six minutes. Ohhhhhh.....

• 1/2 pound of boneless chicken
• 1 c. barley (the real stuff; not that boxed instant crap)
• 1 small onion
• a couple of carrots
• a couple of celery stalks
• one bunch of chard
• can of chopped tomatoes
• can of white beans (cannilini or navy) (or whatever) (No, I have no idea how to spell cannilini) (Canillini?)
• a half cup or so of grated parmesan

Fill a saucepan with four or five cups of water and heat to boil. Add the barley and cook until done to your preference. (I like mine a bit chewy, which takes about 25 minutes.) When it's finished, drain the barley, reserving the water.

Put the chicken in a soup pot, add water to cover, boil, and then turn heat to a simmer. Cook for, I dunno, twenty minutes or so? Until the chicken is done. Remove the chicken and reserve the water. (You're going to use the barley and chicken water as the soup base.)

While that's happening, remove the stems from the chard. Chop those and set aside. Roll the chard leaves into bundles and slice them. Chop the onion, celery, and carrots, setting the onion aside so you can cook it first. To the soup pot, add a quarter or so of olive oil and the onion. Cook on medium till onion is golden brown. Add the carrot, celery, and chard stems. Cook five or six minutes.

While that's underway, turn to the chicken, which should be cool by now. Cut it into spoon-sized bits. Add the can of tomatoes to the soup pot; cook another five or six minutes. Add the chard to the pot. Cover the pan, and cook seven, eight minutes; until the chard is cooked down. To the pot add the beans, barley, chicken, and some of the barley-chicken liquid. How much liquid? I don't know. Four cups? You want the soup to have some body, so don't get carried away.

Add some salt and pepper. Let it cook on medium-low heat for a half hour or so. Pour the wine. Sprinkle some of the cheese on your soup. Enjoy. Your brain will forget all that sugar.

Kindle versus Nook: The "Smackdown"

The past month or so, new e-reading devices have poured out of the --- I was gonna say "woodwork," but somehow that cliche doesn't quite cut it --- so I'll say instead --- are appearing like mold after a flood. There have been so many that I'm having trouble keeping them straight. But so far the only serious contender  to Amazon's Kindle is, near as I can tell, Barnes and Noble's "Nook." (Yes, if you use one, you're enjoying nookie....)

So this excellent piece today at the Atlantic is  helpful: A summary of the differences, pros, and cons of the two devices. Big tip o' the mug to Dexter for sending the link my way.