No Math Requirements

On August 19, the New York Times published an op-ed by Stephen Budiansky entitled "Math Lessons for Locavores" on the economic fallacies of eating local produce. It's a useful counterpoint to increasingly popular arguments by locavores about the costs of eating foods outside of an ideal radius (this ideal radius -- what is considered local -- isn't set in stone. I've noticed it getting smaller and smaller as the idea of locavorism catches on.)

http://www.nytimes.com/2010/08/20/opinion/20budiansky.html?th&emc=th

The author acknowledges that there are a lot of good, completely valid reasons for locavorism. He just objects to sustainability-based arguments revolving around the transportation costs of non-local food. As someone who enjoys a long drive into the Virginia countryside in search of perfect peaches, I concede. Yes, the economics of driving 50 miles to connect with farmers or inspect ideal chicken housing presents something of a disconnect -- if I copped an attitude about the superiority of what I was up to. I've seen this attitude at the Dupont Circle Sunday market. Like Budiansky, I don't care for it.

While knowing the math satisfies my inner debunker, this sort of math doesn't figure into my decision-making about food. I don't eat locally because it's the right thing to do for the environment either -- no dis to the environment, of course.

Economics figure into my rationale and ethics about eating locally. I want small farms to succeed. I buy local food to protect local businesses. But this isn't the main reason I prefer local food.

For me, eating locally is more about my identity (professional and personal) than sustainability ethics. It's akin to the reason I avoid restaurant chains (unless they're local chains), big box stores and national retailers. I don't think there's anything inherently wrong with big businesses (unless they're blighting a cultural landscape). I just generally have better experiences -- better service, better food, more interesting options -- with smaller businesses and small local farms.

Buying local food from (or near) the producer is also a form of recreation and connection for me and my husband. The more I'm learning about food through research for this blog, and in my kitchen, the more interested I am in food shopping outside of grocery store environments. If our combined per-hour rate were applied to the time we spend shopping for and preparing local food, we'd probably be spending about $800 a pop for a home made, locally-produced caprese salad.

When I open our BTU-gobbling refrigerator and see the fruits (and vegetables) of our latest outing, it's all personal, a temporary edible album of the last few weeks. Ethics, arguments and math don't figure.

A Great Read for Locavores

As my research on leftovers continues with two books: M. F. K. Fisher's How to Cook a Wolf (1942, 1954) and Radical Homemakers (2010) by Shannon Hayes, I took a cool green detour to the Pacific Northwest. Recommended by a close friend who lives on Vashon Island (near Seattle), I ordered the book Fat of the Land: Adventures of a 21st Century Forager (2009) by Seattle-area writer Langdon Cook while I was in the thick of foraging research. It's been sitting on my bed stand for months.

I picked it up one night and read a few pages. Then I read the rest over the course of the next week or so. Reading the book is like taking a year-long vacation with a friend -- the writer sounds like someone I've known for years. I spent six years in Seattle (1998 - 2004) and still consider it one of my favorite cities in one of the best regions anywhere. The book reminds me why I liked the place so much.

Fat of the Land is made up of fifteen stories about different indigenous foods one can catch or forage in the Northwest, along with a brief natural and cultural history. The stories are organized by season -- logically -- given the window for hunting or gathering these local treats is often very limited to a specific time of year. Each concludes with a recipe.

For me, this book ranks among the best on the topic of foraging. I've read a few of Euell Gibbons' books, including Stalking the Wild Asparagus (1962, his most popular, I believe). I'm attempting to read all publications on the subject, but most writing I've found isn't officially published. I've been getting bits and pieces from other blogs. A lot of foraging books are guides -- extremely useful for identification of species, but generally not books you'd read from cover to cover.

What makes Cook's Land so great? For one, he's a good writer and likable. He shares himself and his family with the reader. But what puts the book at the top of my list is the writer's ability to create a relationship with the reader -- one of a growing culture of thinking consumers. He's not preachy. He's a storyteller of a counterculture (?) now becoming more and more mainstream.

Anyone who would read the book has most likely been Michael Pollanated, and keen on alternatives to the industrial food complex. We're kin, priorities-wise. We have a similar education and work history and we're nearly the same age. That figures too. Cook was a senior editor at Amazon.com until 2004. He and his wife and son then moved into a cabin off the grid.

Although the book's primary subject is foraging in the Northwest, underlying this is a writer whose choices reflect an admirable ideal. Unlike "No Impact Man,"(Colin Beavan) also a writer who lives a sustainable ideal (and worth his own entry), Cook isn't trying to convert anyone. Having read so many books on food lately, and related documentaries on the subject, I'm really ready for post-beginner commentary and prose. Fat of the Land satisfies that craving, and makes me even more homesick for the city and region Cook continues to explore.

Here's Mr. Cook's blog: http://fat-of-the-land.blogspot.com/