Let's Try a Little "Crowdsourcing," Shall We?

Okay, people. I can't say I'm wild about the whole crowdsourcing concept --- but I've also never tried it. And now's the perfect reason to do so.   Here's the deal: As some of you know, I HATE the title my publisher gave my forthcoming book.

IN BEEF WE TRUST:

AMERICANS, MEAT, AND THE MAKING OF A NATION

The problems with it are a) it sounds like it's only about beef, but the book cover beef, pork, and poultry (as well as cattle, hogs, and chickens); and b) the word "history" is nowhere to be found and this is a book work of history. (I should say there that I definitely don't hate the subtitle. It's okay, although obviously it would be better if it included the word "history.")

That title, in turn, spawned an equally icky proposed jacket design (hardly surprising that the one followed from the other).

I REALLY didn't like the title or the jacket, so I had a convo with my agent and he it turn talked to my editor. The upshot is that my editor indicated that she's willing to change the title IF I come up with something better. By which she apparently meant something better than the dozen-plus titles I've already run by her.

So. Want to help?

Here's a brief description of the book:

 The unexpected history of meat in America and how consumers, entrepreneurs, farmers, and food activists wrestled with the land and each other to build the world’s most elaborate, and controversial, meat supply system.

Here's a slightly longer description:

The moment European settlers arrived in North America, they began transforming the land into a livestock and meat-eater’s paradise. Even before revolution turned colonies into nation, Americans were eating meat on a scale the old world could neither imagine nor provide: an average European was lucky to see meat once a week, while even a poor American man put away about two hundred pounds a year. In BOOK TITLE, Ogle takes readers from that colonial paradise to the urban meat-making factories of the nineteenth century to the hyper-efficient packing plants of the late twentieth century. From Swift and Armour to Tyson, Cargill, and ConAgra. From the cattle bonanza of the 1880s to modern feedlots. From agribusiness to today’s “local” meat supplies and organic counter-cuisine. Along the way, Ogle explains how Americans’ carnivorous demands shaped urban landscapes, midwestern prairies, and western range, and why the American system of meat-making, for so long a source of pride, became a source of conflict and controversy.

Okay, people: give me a new title. If I decide to use any or all of something you suggest, you get your name in the acknowledgements. Right, right. Not a big deal, I know. But, hey, it's all I've got.

UPDATE CITY, Man!

Or whatever. Okay, so here's where I'm at. Yesterday my editor sent me her text edits of the second draft of the manuscript. And HIP HIP HOORAY! --- it held up under her expert scrutiny and there's not much left to do on the manuscript.  

Relatively speaking, of course: Given where I started seven years ago, the amount of work left to do is dinky, teensy-weensy. Practically nothing. You've NO idea how great I feel about that.

The plan is to finish the revisions by the end of February and send it along to her, and unless something horrible happens (like: I DON'T finish these revisions by the end of February), the book will land in bookstores in October or November. (Or wherever it is we'll be buying books by that time. God knows.)

This is where things start to move at the speed of light and one measure of that lightening-like speed is this item, which landed in my inbox about an hour ago: The first go-round of the jacket design:

Do I like this design? Actually, I do.

BUT: there's one tiny problemo with both this jacket design and the title: the book is about beef, pork, and poultry. (*1)

See any hogs or chickens there? Nope, and neither do I. According to my beloved editor, whom I adore and worship, this is the "first round" of possible jackets, so. . . . We shall see, eh? (*2)

Anyway, I'm still away from my observation post here at the ol' website, but yeah, baby, I'm getting SO. CLOSE. to the time when I can get back here regularly.

Again, that's barring some unforseen disaster. Let's all pray that there is none, okay? Anyway, aside from having been sick for most of the past ten days (at least the timing was good: I was waiting around for these revisions), I'm feeling fabulous. Relief of a sort that you probably can't imagine.

Anyway. That's what's new in my part of the world. See you SOON, my friends, SOON. (*4)

_________________

*1: Although as my editor pointed out, at least it does NOT include what I really didn't want: cowboys, the western range, or a barn.

*2: No, I had no input on the title (well, sort of not. *3). And no input on the jacket design. (Because Rule 1 in publishing is: Authors are not entitled to jack shit unless they're a) already famous; or b) are mega-bestsellers.)

*3: Here's the story behind the title: Waaay back in 2006, about three weeks before the beer book came out, I cranked out a proposal for this book about meat and sent it around to agents (because I needed to find a new agent). I needed to attach some kind of title to my proposed book, so in a ten-second brainstorm (I'm not kidding), I came up with IN BEEF WE TRUST.

My new agent, in turn, sent the proposal to my editor, who agreed to buy it. In no way, shape, form, or universe did I intend IN BEEF WE TRUST to be the title of the book itself. And believe me, in a zillion years, the first title someone comes up with is almost never, and I do mean NEVER, the actual title of the finished product.

So wouldn't you know that this is the zillionth year: the people at the house (that's publishing speak for the publisher) loved it. Never mind that the book isn't about beef only. They liked it. And then they took a subtitle that I came up with somewhere along the way and added that and --- Voila! Title. Sigh.

*4: Honesttogod, I hope I'm the only person who manages to include three footnotes in a 600-word post. Because if I'm not, the future of civilization is in doubt.

In the Kitchen: Walkaway-and-Enjoy Soup

This is another toss-it-in-a-pot "recipe." Because of course such dishes are not recipe-built. It's a bit of a lost art, isn't it, this "toss stuff in a pan and apply heat"? (Or not. Because we do the same thing sans heat, especially in summer, when we call it "salad.")

• package of frozen spinach
• can of navy beans (any white bean, but Roman/pinto would work, too.)
• half can of tomatoes (although once we were eating it, I realized the whole can would have worked fine).
• handful of millet and of bulgar
• half handful of barley and of a quite small pasta (I used the the rice-kernel shaped ones)
• a carton or so of chicken stock or homemade or whatever you've got for stock. Water works just dandy. (Adjust seasonings accordingly.)
• meat. Or not. I found sweet "Italian" chicken sausage in my freezer. But you can skip the meat. This is a whatever dish.

I cooked the sausage (using just a tad bit of olive oil because I let the pan get too hot).

Added the liquid (stock, water, whatever) and scraped up the bits. Tossed in the beans, tomatoes, spinach (mine was frozen because forgot to get from freezer; I just tossed it in).

Located the grains in the drawer. Had a nice selection, so in some of them went. What a lovely way to add good food with zero effort. Seriously!

Added the grains. Heated liquid to just boiling, which took longer than I would have thought. (All that lovely starch!)

No biggie. Walk away. Do something else while it's concocting its magic.

Oh: about an hour later, I remembered that bunch of  parmesan rinds in the freezer and  I tossed one into the pot. No need to thaw. Umami, as we westerners are now calling it. (The American English term is "meaty.")

Pour the wine, etc. Enjoy!

PCs, Memory, and Paranoia: Ringing In the New With A Dose of the Old

Meh. Just realized that between double Mac backups every day and Dropbox, I've become [frighteningly] complacent about backing up. That ain't good. That's one result of being a desktop/PC oldster: I can remember when Things Crashed. Badly. As in: mainframes crashing and taking every damn thing within range down with it. (Bye, bye 30-page essay...)

Been paranoid ever since. Rule one re. using an electronic date storage device is: those babies will crash, spin, rotate, smash, and die.

So. New Year's Rez: Backup, baby, backup. Or, okay, some more catchy version of that. (Brain fry here, as I close in on the REAL end of this manuscript.)

When It Comes to Craft Beer, Can We Get Over the "Local" Bullshit?

People, can we get over the “local” beer crap?  Please. What follows is an out-and-out, in-your-face rant. You’re welcome to ignore. I won’t be offended. (And if you’re not connected to or interested in the craft beer business or community, none of it will make sense. So you should ignore it. Please. Go have a good beer!) 

As my beer readers likely know, Sam Adams (Boston Beer Company) is launching New Albion Ale, a re-creation of the first microbeer in the US from the first microbrewer, Jack McAuliffe. BBC/SA is using Jack’s recipe and Jack supervised the creation of the beer. Sam Adams/BBC won’t make any profit on this project; all of that goes to Jack.

Today, someone at Facebook posted a link to a video from Boston Beer Company about the New Albion launch. And someone posted a comment saying, in effect, too bad the project wasn’t being carried out by a “local” brewer.

To which my initial reaction was: What the fuck?

My second reaction: What the hell is LOCAL? New Albion closed its doors 30 years ago. What, precisely, is “local” for a defunct brewery?

My third reaction: What the HELL difference does “local” make? If you’re gonna get bent out of shape about “local,” then you need to stop drinking Sierra Nevada, Stone, New Belgium, Left Hand, and about fifty zillion (okay, I exaggerate) other craft beers.

Because many craft brewers distribute their beers regionally, nationally, and, yes, even internationally. If that means their beers are no longer politically, craft-ily correct enough for you, well --- you've got a problem I'm glad I don't have.

My fourth reaction was: For fuck’s sake, how do you think a “local” brewery could pay for the project undertaken by Boston Beer Company? Where would a tiny local brewery find the money to make the beer, let alone advertise this project?

My fifth reaction was: Get the fuck over this “local” shit and the idea that the only “real” craft beers are based on an equation based on a combination of location and size, a combination that apparently ignores the significant factor of quality.Now that I’ve finished ranting (although no, I’ve not exhausted my extensive vocabulary of profanities), let me run a few facts past you:

Fact one: Many years ago, Jim Koch, the founder and president of BBC, and a craft brewing pioneer (albeit a controversial one) noticed that the trademark for New Albion was about to expire. So he grabbed it. Why? Because he didn’t want some bozo to start making “New Albion” beer as if it had some actual connection with the original New Albion craft brewery. (*1)  Jim cares about history.

Jim’s held the trademark all these years. He likely wouldn’t have done anything other than protect it, had it not been for my book. That’s not arrogance; it’s a fact. For all intents and purposes, until my book came out, no one in the craft beer biz knew where he was or why he mattered. Now they do, and he’s been honored by the craft beer community since then.

Fast forward to 2012: Jim Koch decided one way to honor Jack's contribution to craft beer was by releasing Jack’s original beer. The official announcement came at this year’s Great American Beer Festival in October. The beer launches in January.

Here’s another fact: No one in craft brewing has done more to turn ordinary beer drinkers --- and whether you like it or not, that’s the biggest group of beer drinkers in the U. S. --- on to good beer than Jim Koch. No one. His beers function as “gateway” beers, just as Starbucks functions as “gateway” coffee that eventually draws people to the little indie coffeeshop down the street.And when he’s not busy dishing out gateway beers, Jim makes imaginative, high quality beers for the geeks.

Here’s another fact: Several years ago, there was a serious hops shortage in the U. S. Jim had enough hops on hand for his own needs, so he offered up what he had left to those who needed some. Did he do this because he truly cared about his industry. Yes, I believe he did. Was this good PR? Of course! He’s in the business of making money, just like every other craft beer, including your sweet little local guy down the street.

But being a good businessman is not incompatible with having a heart and soul.Is Jim Koch a “big” brewer? Depends. As he says, compared to, say, Anheuser-Busch, he’s a pygmy. Compared to your “local” beermaker down the street, however, Jim’s “big.”

Why does that matter?

What’s the connection between size and “local” and those intangible traits of “quality” or “heart” or “soul”?If you care about good beer, or “independent” businesses, or businesses with heart and soul, then “local” is irrelevant.

As it happens, my ire coincides with an unrelated recent spate of news articles about “craft” versus “crafty.” If you’ve missed this kerfuffle, you can learn about it by googling (or Binging or DuckDucking or whatever search engine you use). (*2) As far as I’m concerned, it’s all marketing smoke and mirrors (as my friend Jim Koch once put it). (*3)

This business of “my beer is holier than yours” is counter-productive and irrational.You want to drink good beer in the United States? No problem. There’s LOTS of it around. Even in the small town in central Iowa where I live, thanks to the good beer makers who’ve decided to make their beers available regionally and nationally.

Do I care if it’s “local”? No. What I care is that these several thousand small, family-owned businesses are making good products in a sustainable business model that aims to do good, not evil.

If you don’t like it, well, alrighty. Don’t drink any New Albion Ale when it comes out. Stick to your “local” beers. Me? I’ll enjoy all kinds of wonderful beers. Because I can and because so many men and women in the craft beer community (emphasis on “community”) understand that the virtues of quality need not be constrained by location. __________

*1: Think Schlitz, PBR, etc. as beer brands now owned by holding companies and beers that having nothing to do with anything other than marketing.

*2: The most painful commentary about it came from Schell in New Ulm, Minnesota. They’re no longer “pure” enough to be with the craft beer gang. Go read the piece for yourself. I  got weepy. I’ve met the people at Schell. They’ve been here making beer longer than I’ve been alive; much longer.

*3: Indeed, it’s literally marketing. The Brewers Association has hired a “real” public relations firm which, as near as I can tell, is quite good at its job. This “controversy” about craft versus crafty is a) manufactured; and b) doing a great job of drawing attention to craft beer.

Title? Meh....

IN BEEF WE TRUST: AMERICANS, MEAT, AND THE MAKING OF A NATION Maybe it'll grow on me.