People's Food Policy Project

In August, 2009 Waldegrave Farm in Tatamagouche, Nova Scotia held the 5th annual 'Free School,' where one hundred eager, intelligent, and inspiring people gathered together to teach each other whatever it was that they could teach each other. It's chancy, really, resting so heavily on the generosity and skills of other people in order to put on a successful event, but it worked.

In talking with folks over the course of the weekend, it became apparent that many of us had arrived with varied expectations, some of which may or may not have been met. Personally, I had come wanting to learn about food (surprise, surprise). Luckily, I was not alone, and throughout the weekend absorbed bits and pieces about making sourdough, harvesting medicinal plants, cover-cropping, fruit tree grafting, and not to mention in the incredible culinary treats that were so lavishly and graciously provided for all participants.

One workshop was offered by Pat Kerans of the People's Food Policy Project (PFPP). This national, grassroots organization concerns itself with work dedicated to the creation of a national food security policy. Sitting around in a circle in the front yard, leaning on hay bails, and half-expecting the dark and daunting sky to open up and flood us out, we conversed and vented about our frustration with the current policies, or lack there-of, with relation to food in our country. The intention was not to come to conclusions, but was meant as a step in a much larger process for the PFPP - to talk to Canadians on the ground in communities all across the country about what they want in a food policy. Where should our country go, and what should it do to be what the people want it to be. We bounced around thoughts on poverty, food labelling, GMOs, and agriculture rights. It was fascinating.

All this is to introduce you to this project, and ask you to at least familiarize yourself with what they do. If you are so inclined, let them know what you think needs to change, or remain. Shamelessly, and with all sincerity I urge you to check out their site, www.peoplesfoodpolicy.ca and join in shaping Canada's future of food.

Just a glitch, or a new trend?

This weekend I read an article in the Globe and Mail that turned the tips of my hair red with a rare, and intense frustration. Entitled, "Standoff over fertilizer prices imperils world food supply," the concern expressed is that large chemical fertilizer companies like PotashCorp (from Saskatchewan) and Agrium (from Calgary) experienced huge losses this year because farmers are cutting back on those expensive products. Times are tough, we know, and when a farmer needs to balance the books, something's gotta give. 

It's not so much that reporter Jessica Leeder is dishing out the facts that big companies are suffering losses, it's that it plays the farmers as the bad guys. The farmers shell out tons of money for fertilizers they've become dependent on because of the cash-crop mentality, the more, more, more of industrial agriculture, and in return can hardly make a profit. Government encourages this behaviour, because it's the big companies that turn a ridiculous profit and benefit the money-economy, and not the farmers who are usually just trying to stay afloat. Now, farmers have had enough, and are weaning their land off a reliance on chemicals, in turn benefiting the environment, surely, our health, most likely, and their already meagre income, and we're supposed to feel bad for the big guys? Wow. 

PotashCorp is banking on the expectation that the farmers will wake up and realize they've made a mistake by decreasing their intense use of the company's product, which 'nourishes the soil.' This is a quotation from the company's CEO, William Doyle: "Food production is too important to put at risk. Farmers know this and they will start feeding their soil again. the question is not if it will happen, but when the rebound will begin." I hope he's wrong, I really do. Not because we can afford a serious decrease in our food supply, but because there are other good farming methods available out there. Organic. Bio-Dynamic. Methods that are easier on the land, that allow the land to nourish itself, and not be exhausted by over-production, and heavy fertilization. If this is the kick in the pants that is needed to get more organic farms, I'm all for it.

Farmers are made out in the article to be at the whim of the Agri-Business giants. No farmers are interviewed for this article, no farmers' voices are heard here. They are made to seem like children throwing a temper-tantrum who will eventually 'come to their senses' because 'mommy and daddy are older and wiser.' But what would the farmer say? Maybe they've been sucked into this, and have had enough of the way things are done. Maybe they want to be self-sustaining to a greater degree. Maybe they are putting their foot down, saying, "I do so much to feed people in this country, and I'm sick and tired at not being able to pay my bills while I fork over a big chunk of my profit to yet another Big Business Fat Cat." 

Food on my plate is just as important to me as it is to anyone else, and I know that if farmers don't grow food, then I don't eat. If farmers can't make a living, then they quit farming. If they quit farming, not only do the fertilizer companies lose, but I lose too, and so do the farmers. If the farmers can find other ways to produce food, which they WANT to do (like hell they're going to sit around and wait for their yields to drop without a fight - they're going to find other methods to sustain their yields at a more economic, and hopefully environmentally sustainable cost), then they come out on top, I get to eat, and really, it's only the Big Guys who suffer. Food supply can only be reliable if it's sustainable, and the way it's being done now is obviously not sustainable, economically, or environmentally. 

Farmers, I got your back.

www.theglobeandmail.com/news/national/standoff-over-fertilizer-prices-imperils-world-food-supply/article1336858/

Talk the momentum

It's been a relative while since there have been updates here. Sure, we're all busy, and it's not as if I haven't had any ideas to share, but time really seems to get away from me.

Last night Jon Steinman, host of one of my favorite radio programmes, Deconstructing Dinner, graced a Sackville audience with a message of fact, hope, and action. Explaining how our food system in Canada is run, primarily, by a handful of big and powerful (and largely invisible) companies, Jon challenged this town to take other avenues to food supply. Giving examples from a single place, Nelson, BC, where he lives, Jon introduced ideas like a grain CSA, a buyers club, and a *real* cooperative grocery store. Nelson is twice the size of Sackville, but can be a true inspiration for a place like this.

Discussion followed, as often does at these things, and people from all corners of the food web shared their hopes, frustrations, and curiousities. To me, there are some things that are evident:

We know stuff. People in this town are somewhat aware of some of the problems (I call them problems, others might not see it this way. We'll agree to disagree) in our food system. Something just isn't right, and although we can't put our finger on just what it is or how it got that way, it doesn't sit easy in our gut. Pun intended. When things are great, like veggies directly from the farm at our farmer's market, and people learning about growing their own food, we know it, and it gives us a push to keep going.

People are itching to do something. They just don't know what. How do young people who so badly want to contribute to this community knowing they may not be settled here for very long, take on a long term project like starting a buying club? Or having a garden or a farm for most of the year? And how do the people that are here for the long-haul get enough knowledgeable and capable people to contribute their skills to something. And, most importantly, where on earth do we start?

I know there is a ways to go, in every community. The idea of being self-sustaining, for my own life is a goal of my own for someday in the future. But I also want to be a part of a community where that is a priority for everyone. This is the cause I have found for me, but not everyone feels this way, or sees the importance in this issue. It's too bad, because we all eat, and we all must survive.

But there are success stories, and this issue is starting to resonate with people. A conversation I had with my family around the dinner table - how fitting - was one step to a greater awareness. If these conversations get out there, and people start talking about food and caring about food and the system that "sustains" us, then maybe we can get somewhere.

Talking is big. Invade the sound waves of eavesdroppers and passers-by with this stuff. Today alone I found myself immersed in four or five conversations about what needs to happen and what can happen in a place like Sackville, and not all of them initiated by me (though I do take any opportunity I can get to talk about food). The truly amazing thing about all of the chatting I did today was that people were being completely practical. The introducer of Jon last night mentioned that this "foovement" is no longer just a "hippie hope," and she was right. There are real people working real jobs, driving cars, living life who all care about food, and they do it with passion!

So, I want to take this momentum, and this energy with me as I slowly remove myself from Sackville for the, er, second time. I also hope it stays here and gets bigger.

Talk it up - it's a big deal.

Underneath it all...

Growth is near. The days smell like spring, the snow is melting at a steady pace, and green things are starting to appear. Perhaps this is partially the reason for my recent obsession with the prospect of farming. It's been occupying a healthy portion of my head space lately, and I've caught myself daydreaming of fresh veggies and dirty fingernails, and I've even starting writing notes about the farm I want to have someday. The ache I have for my own land might start taking over the rest of my life, and I'm not sure just how long I can fight it off...

Until I settle myself somewhere, though, I'll have to feed my addiction with experimentation and small scale projects within the limited space of a big city. The learning part of growing food is big and daunting, and so I'm fortunate to have others around willing to try new things, share their experiences, and let me take chances in the dirt.

Within a couple of days of moving to Toronto I had found a community garden to which I could devote some Saturdays. I'm not sure I would have survived the transition to this giant world of skyscrapers, starless skies, and public transit had I not had opportunity to dig and plant and harvest and love a piece of earth with people who needed to do the same.

And now begins the season for growing. Seeing tiny plants starting to grow inside, watching rhubarb poke up from the still mostly frozen soil, and being careful not to step on the garlic sprouts while sweeping the leafy mulch we covered the beds with in November. It was absolutely incredible to lift up the cold frames over plots of spinach and arugula and find small plants still growing - nature is powerful, and if I didn't know it before (I did), I certainly know now.

More than just discovery though, I'm glad to have opportunities to learn from other gardeners, and luckily we're all pretty open to trying new things. There are few rigid rules, and we've been talking about changes and improvements we can make to the garden, and new tactics we'd like to try. For one, how to figure out how to grow greens up a wall, and another, where on earth to put the raspberries! There are few easy answers, but that's part of the fun!

All of these new ideas and opportunities are having a swirling-around effect in my head, and underneath my rational and safe life plan I've half-established for myself, I'm starting to be fettered by a deep desire to drop it all and start working the land full time. I know this isn't something I'm ready to do right now - commitments, hovering student loan burdens, and a sincere need for quality practical learning opportunities are all standing in the way. But until these things are no longer obstacles, I'll have to settle, and learn and, continue to be excited about spring and the renewing of life.

And really, that's the easy part.

Kitchens Abroad

I am first an eater, and second a traveller. I say this as a reflection of a recent trip I took with a number of work colleagues to Yellowknife, NWT, and Olympia and Seattle, in Washington state. Leading up to my trip, I was preoccupied with the details of the work side of things, but once I arrived in cold, cold Yellowknife I was determined to take advantage of the Northern food experience.

So, I want to write about my travels through the eyes of an eater. I made a point of trying things I wasn't likely to get anywhere else (at least not easily), even to the point of initiating small protests within the group of where we should go, and what we should eat for dinner. (For example, I refused to eat at Boston Pizza - it's lousy food at the best of times, and I could eat there any time I wanted. I didn't travel to Yellowknife to do the same old thing. Luckily, I ended up having some company, and wasn't subjected to the blandness of a "dinner for one," which I was decidedly prepared to subject myself to.)

Yellowknife, being farther north than most Canadians have ever been, has access to a menu different from what I am used to. I have never leaned to the carnivorous end of the spectrum, but wild game and fish are the most seasonal, and regional foods in the North. Reading a travel guide, someone in our group stumbled upon a restaurant, The Black Knight Pub, that served caribou burgers for something like $15.95 a piece. This was the most expensive pub burger I have ever laid eyes on, but I instantly decided I must eat this! Caribou was new, and it was food, and I was in Yellowknife, and it had to be mine.

We arrived at the restaurant after a long day of meetings. I was tired, a little cranky, but I was going to eat something new. Excitement was bubbling over as I anticipated caribou, and I didn't even open the menu.

"We're out of caribou" said the waitress when I confidently placed my order. "How about bison instead?" she finished. No caribou?! A brief and mild panic rushed over my hungry belly, but I quickly agreed. I had never eaten bison, I was in the north, and caribou wasn't available. At least it wasn't beef.

Caribou, I'm told is tender and delicious, and a knife isn't necessary. I have one more excuse (among many!) to head north at least one more time in my life.

Bison, when prepared for a plate, looks like beef (photo left). I half expected it to taste just like beef, but of course, it didn't. It wasn't as heavy as beef, though it was gamey-er, and so delicious. I chewed slowly, and tasted every bite while I thought of snow and ice and where this animal had been in its life.

Aside from the land mammals, Yellowknife is also known for its fish. It sits on the northern shore of Great Slave Lake and the territory resides on the Arctic ocean. Fish, therefore, is a large part of the northern diet. The day before we left, we were told by a regular visitor to Yellowknife that the very best place in all of North America to get fish and chips is a little shack in the old part of the city called Bullocks Bistro. I chatted with the cook for a little while, and was informed that they serve nothing but the freshest -- they fish year-round, through holes in the ice and when they run out of the catch of the day they don't have any back-up stock. Their arctic char is fished off the northern coast, and is flown in. It's similar to salmon in look and in taste, but smoother, a little less flaky, and softer. It was absolutely wonderful.

Had I spent more time there, I would have loved to eat more. (Arguably, I would have had to.) But we soon headed to much different climate, with different taste-ular sensations ready and waiting.

Olympia, WA was a wonderful place. We arrived with rumbly tumblies, and went searching for food. We found more than food. We found beer.

A local brewery in the heart of the city was an excellent introduction to the west-coast food scene. An American friend of mine once pointed out that while living in Canada, one thing she missed was the abundance of local breweries. I understand why.

The brew at the right is the India Pale Ale. What intrigued me about the menus description was its mention of the words "lush floral aroma" and "distinct citrus flavour." The taste was true to this description, and the subtlety of these sensations almost took me by surprise - a beer could be flower-y, citrus-y, AND beer-y. Food is amazing.

Eating in restaurants for a week is tough. But believe it or not (and judging from the subjects covered thus far in this post, perhaps "not" is the more likely suspicion), I didn't just eat pub food and drink beer. While in Seattle, I had a fabulous time exploring the market, and seeing how creative people are with food. Let me share this...

This photo (left) is only a small corner of this open-air shop at the Pike Place Market in Seattle. The makers, I'm sure, had fun stringing specialty food like hot and spicy peppers, aromatic herbs and flowers, and bitey garlic on these beautiful strands. They hung from the ceiling, and customers had to dodge and duck as they strolled through in admiration.



We also saw cheese being made in a huge "open vat" (see photo below) at Beecher's Handmade Cheese shop. Had I not been travelling, I would have likely spent a small fortune there. The milk is pure, the cows untreated with hormones and antibiotics, and visitors (or for the more enthusiastic we could use the term "spectators") can witness the process. I've become mildly obsessed with the cheese making process and am still trying to figure it out. (I've managed to commit myself to learning how to make cheese, and then actually doing so by the end of April.) I gaped and gawked until I had to pry myself away.



(When sharing these photos with a friend who is equally as excited by food as I am, she was not so much excited with the cheese making process, but more with the size of the vat. She explained that she gets extremely excited about over sized kitchen equipment. It's on of her endearing qualities, really.)

I used to travel excited to take photos. I now travel excited to take photos of food. The world is a big place with lots of variety, and I've got a long way to go to get even a small taste of all that is out there. Next on the list...France?

Food Memories: the personal project

It's been a while since my last post, but that is not because I have been ignoring this hobby of mine. I've been constantly thinking about what on earth to write about next, and while there are always "big" food issues running through my head and my reading list, I don't want this blog to become top-heavy with my thoughts on changing-the-world-one-meal-at-a-time. That said, I've managed to think of something that seems so simple and basic, but that I have gradually found myself steering away from: recipes.

I've never been good at following written directions. I have always disliked assembling toys (when I was young), or furniture (when I was a little older), and frankly, following recipes falls into that "assemblage" category. I often get an idea in my head for what I want to make - curried vegetables on rice, for instance. That is certainly a vague description of the end result, and if I don't quite know where to get started, I head for a cookbook. Actually, I usually haul out two or three, and read every curry recipe I can find. My brain starts working and I begin to see patterns developing - this spice goes well with this one, these vegetables need similar cooking times, etc. Then I close the books, put them back on the shelf, and start cooking. Usually the result turns out with varying degrees of success, but then again, I'm one of those pesky kinesthetic learners.

The reason that I want to talk about this is because I think I have undervalued the worth of recipes. There have been times when I have cooked food using the method described above, and it turns out to be simply delectable. Then I say to myself "I should really write that down" after which I promptly forget and the specifics of the made up taste-sensation, and it evaporates into the land of forgotten thoughts.

Today, though, I made soup. From a recipe. I'm not sure why. But it was damn good. And I'll make it again. And again. And again. And again and I will always know EXACTLY what to do. And so I've started to re-appreciate recipes because, as simple as this sounds, let me re-live all those exciting food moments that so easily could be forgotten. AND I can share it with other people. (Besides, how are you supposed to perfect my cooking if I don't know what I did to begin with?)

There were some recipe books that my mother used to use while I was growing up. Every once in a while I would ask her to make this thing, or that thing, and every time she did it turned out the same. (Except once, when she made a chocolate hot-fudge sundae cake when my boyfriend at the time came over for dinner for the first time, and she couldn't figure out why it was so flat. Turns out she accidentally baked a spoon inside of it, and didn't realize until she was serving it and it revealed itself to everyone at the table. Boy, was she embarrassed, though we still laugh about it.) But due to some unfortunate circumstances, she was separated from her cookbooks, and these cherished family recipes no longer exist. I drool in vain when I think about tomato soup cake (go ahead, laugh), Texas brownies, and those perfect jam cookies that melted in my mouth. Those recipes were for more than just consistency; they were memories.

I'm going to find some favorite recipes of my own. I will still experiment on my own and make things up (that's half the fun of cooking. The other half is eating, as long as everything went according to plan.), but I had better start writing things down because as sad as it is, memories don't last forever.