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My fellow farmers like to tease me about my eclectic vocabulary. I collect words the way my older brother used to collect Star Wars figures: greedily, giddily, and very, very geekishly. (ok, so maybe he wasn't giddy. But geekish? You decide.) For example, when the Oxford English Dictionary crowned "locavore" the word of the year in 2007, I was among those who not only noticed, but also became rather excited.
I may have found a new favorite, however, one which could give "locavore" a run for its money: "eth•i•cu•re•an n. (also adj.) Someone who seeks out tasty things that are also sustainable, organic, local, and/or ethical — SOLE food, for short." Be still, my heart, there's a whole blog devoted to this wonderful new word!
In writing about the psychological and cultural roots of totemic animals in many tribal cultures, anthropologist Claude Levi Strauss* noted that human beings found animals "good to think" as well as "good to eat." By that, he meant that tribal society used individual and tribal totems as metaphors for the internal differences within human culture. Animals were more than just dinner--the idea of a bear or an otter could represent something abstract and, in fact, intrinsically human. In a way, ethicurianism (If we can go ahead and make this word an -ism already) is our new totemism. It makes our food "good to think" on a number of levels. At its simplest, it is a statement of values served up with a sides of raw milk cheese and fair trade organic coffee. More than that, however, ethicurianism is a metaphor for how we want to live our lives: consciously engaging with the wider ramifications of our most fundamental decisions, from "what shall I have for dinner?" to "what should I do with my life?" I can usually figure out the first one; I'm mulling over the second.
Sometimes, when it's 1 in the morning and I'm still poring over cookbooks or fishing the last jar of jam out of the water bath, I worry that I might be taking this whole food business too far. What value am I adding, really, in following a process from start to finish when I could easily pick up in the middle? But then I realize that I do it because it gives me joy to present a ratatouille the contents of which I have nurtured from seed to table. And I realize that the food I consume represents the values I have come to cherish (the listing of which I borrow from Barbara Kingsolver): honesty, cooperativeness, thrift, mental curiosity, and physical competence. Make my totem an onion.
*Levi Strauss is also remembered for his (perhaps familiar sounding?) volume, The Raw and the Cooked. When I finally get hold of a copy, rest assured that I'll blog it...
Showing posts with label anthropology. Show all posts
Showing posts with label anthropology. Show all posts
Saturday, July 12, 2008
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Weeding and Weeping
"Dirt" is simply matter out of place, notes anthropologist Mary Douglas in her (highly recommended) ethnographic study Purity and Danger. By that, Douglas means that the things we consider dirty are not innately unclean, but rather become impure to us due to their position in either space or time. As she moves from the dietary laws of the Israelites to the death rituals of the Dinka, Douglas notes that what is dirty to one group of people under one set of circumstances can become integral to the most sacred rites in another place or time.
Applying Douglas's logic to farming, weeds are simply plants out of place. Anything that is not slotted for our beds, no matter how pretty, tasty, or unusual, becomes a weed to us as soon as it begins to compete with our harvest for soil and sun. Thus the sunflowers that have "volunteered" in the potato patch, the random tomato plant that cropped up in the herbs, and the great drooping squash plants that are sending out creepers in several beds are all weeds to us and slotted for destruction. We've almost finished the seasonal transition from beginning to maintaining; if the emblem of my first few months here was the hose with which we watered the greenhouse, my new emblem is the weeding tool, or possibly the stirrup hoe. We have a lot of "plants out of place." Or we did, until the past few days.
This week we descended on the beds with a fury and a fine tooth comb, uprooting everything that did not belong. Whereas a conventional grower might chose to apply herbicides to knock out the interlopers, we weed by hand, wheel-hoe, and weedwacker. When I consider herbicides from the Purity and Danger perspective, weed control via Roundup (a chemical cocktail that many conventional growers use to keep down the unwanted plants) doesn't make much sense to me. Consider: many growers have turned in recent years to patented Roundup Ready seed varieties, seeds that have been bred to resist the chemical onslaught of Roundup so that the harvest crop remains standing when all other plants have succumbed. But if weeds are simply plants out of place, Roundup Ready seed grows plants that assume they can never be weeds. How arrogant! On a less philosophical level, Roundup has also been accused of creating super-weeds (by killing off the weak plants so that only the hardiest weeds remain), of contributing to cycles of farmer debt (through ever increasing input costs for new, patented seed with matching, patented herb- and pesticides), and of generally being toxic.
So at Serenbe, we use our dirty, cracked farmer hands and pick the weeds out with all possible speed and efficiency. Shortly after a rainstorm is the best time for weeding, as the moist soil relinquishes weed roots with little resistance. We weedwack around the perimeter to keep our electric fence from grounding out on grasses; we wheelhoe the paths where nothing green can stay; we maneuver the stirrup hoe between the plants, carefully avoiding the tender shoots and leaves; then we get down on a hands and knees and massage the soil around the plants until we are satisfied with our beds. Our before and after shots would put Trading Spaces to shame.
Perched as we are on the cusp of the real harvest season, summer, we are still gathering a gracious plenty. Today we brought in about half of our onion crop and laid them out to cure in the shed. The harvested onion beds are the first that we have emptied this year, and it felt more than a little strange to walk down the middle of a bed as we carred our 40 lb onion bins to the truck. We couldn't cure any onions that we dropped (they would rot), so I carried home a small pail of rejected Spanish Yellows, Stockton Yellows, and Big Boys. Looking like a distraught Ray Charles in my sunglasses and oniony tears, I sliced them into an onion pie for a dinner I'll host tomorrow. One of my dear friends is gluten intolerant, so I decided to make a crust with ground peanuts and pecans instead of flour.
For the crust:
2 cups ground nuts (peanuts, pecans, almonds, walnuts--whatever you prefer)
3 Tablespoons butter
1/2 teaspoon sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
For the filling:
1 medium boiling potato (5 oz)
2-3 cups sliced onion (I used two small and one large)
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
2 large eggs
1/4 cup heavy cream or whole milk
1 teaspoon finely chopped fresh thyme or 1/2 cup finely chopped fresh parsley or 1 teaspoon fresh rosemary (my choice)
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
9 oz good-quality sharp Cheddar, coarsely grated (2 1/2 cups)
Combine the ground nuts, butter and sugar. Press the mixture evenly into the bottom and sides of a 9-inch pie plate.
Bake at 350°F for 10 to 12 minutes. While the crust is baking, make the filling.
Peel potato and cut into 1/4-inch dice (3/4 cup). Steam potato in a steamer set over boiling water, covered, until just cooked through, about 3 minutes. Transfer to a plate to cool.
Applying Douglas's logic to farming, weeds are simply plants out of place. Anything that is not slotted for our beds, no matter how pretty, tasty, or unusual, becomes a weed to us as soon as it begins to compete with our harvest for soil and sun. Thus the sunflowers that have "volunteered" in the potato patch, the random tomato plant that cropped up in the herbs, and the great drooping squash plants that are sending out creepers in several beds are all weeds to us and slotted for destruction. We've almost finished the seasonal transition from beginning to maintaining; if the emblem of my first few months here was the hose with which we watered the greenhouse, my new emblem is the weeding tool, or possibly the stirrup hoe. We have a lot of "plants out of place." Or we did, until the past few days.
This week we descended on the beds with a fury and a fine tooth comb, uprooting everything that did not belong. Whereas a conventional grower might chose to apply herbicides to knock out the interlopers, we weed by hand, wheel-hoe, and weedwacker. When I consider herbicides from the Purity and Danger perspective, weed control via Roundup (a chemical cocktail that many conventional growers use to keep down the unwanted plants) doesn't make much sense to me. Consider: many growers have turned in recent years to patented Roundup Ready seed varieties, seeds that have been bred to resist the chemical onslaught of Roundup so that the harvest crop remains standing when all other plants have succumbed. But if weeds are simply plants out of place, Roundup Ready seed grows plants that assume they can never be weeds. How arrogant! On a less philosophical level, Roundup has also been accused of creating super-weeds (by killing off the weak plants so that only the hardiest weeds remain), of contributing to cycles of farmer debt (through ever increasing input costs for new, patented seed with matching, patented herb- and pesticides), and of generally being toxic.
So at Serenbe, we use our dirty, cracked farmer hands and pick the weeds out with all possible speed and efficiency. Shortly after a rainstorm is the best time for weeding, as the moist soil relinquishes weed roots with little resistance. We weedwack around the perimeter to keep our electric fence from grounding out on grasses; we wheelhoe the paths where nothing green can stay; we maneuver the stirrup hoe between the plants, carefully avoiding the tender shoots and leaves; then we get down on a hands and knees and massage the soil around the plants until we are satisfied with our beds. Our before and after shots would put Trading Spaces to shame.
Perched as we are on the cusp of the real harvest season, summer, we are still gathering a gracious plenty. Today we brought in about half of our onion crop and laid them out to cure in the shed. The harvested onion beds are the first that we have emptied this year, and it felt more than a little strange to walk down the middle of a bed as we carred our 40 lb onion bins to the truck. We couldn't cure any onions that we dropped (they would rot), so I carried home a small pail of rejected Spanish Yellows, Stockton Yellows, and Big Boys. Looking like a distraught Ray Charles in my sunglasses and oniony tears, I sliced them into an onion pie for a dinner I'll host tomorrow. One of my dear friends is gluten intolerant, so I decided to make a crust with ground peanuts and pecans instead of flour.Cheddar Cheese and Onion Pie with Nut Pie Crust
For the crust:2 cups ground nuts (peanuts, pecans, almonds, walnuts--whatever you prefer)
3 Tablespoons butter
1/2 teaspoon sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
For the filling:
1 medium boiling potato (5 oz)
2-3 cups sliced onion (I used two small and one large)
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
2 large eggs
1/4 cup heavy cream or whole milk
1 teaspoon finely chopped fresh thyme or 1/2 cup finely chopped fresh parsley or 1 teaspoon fresh rosemary (my choice)
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
9 oz good-quality sharp Cheddar, coarsely grated (2 1/2 cups)
Combine the ground nuts, butter and sugar. Press the mixture evenly into the bottom and sides of a 9-inch pie plate.
Bake at 350°F for 10 to 12 minutes. While the crust is baking, make the filling.
Peel potato and cut into 1/4-inch dice (3/4 cup). Steam potato in a steamer set over boiling water, covered, until just cooked through, about 3 minutes. Transfer to a plate to cool.
Cook onions in butter in a 10-inch heavy skillet over moderately low heat, stirring, until softened, 8 to 10 minutes. Transfer to plate to cool.
Whisk together 2 eggs, cream, thyme, salt, and pepper in a large bowl until combined well. Stir in potato, onion, and cheese.
Pour the filling into the prepared, baked crust and bake at 425 for 35-40 minutes until aromatic and golden.Saturday, May 3, 2008
Hau Do You Do?
Googlemaps has betrayed me. Last weekend I decided to take a multitasker's vacation: after finishing market and getting in a quick tutoring session with one of my students, I hit the road for Athens, GA and its surrounding farmland. My plan was the visit Cedar Grove Farms--a small organic farm some friends recently established--rush back into Athens for the later half of my cousin's play, and then visit my grandfather, who had recently been involved in a car accident. I had everything timed down to the minute.
Alas, 6:15 found me sans cell reception at the tail end of a dirt road in what could easily pass for Deliverance country. This was not the farm I was looking for. After some backtracking, the interrogation of one rather bemused jogger, and several frazzled cell phone conversations, I found my farm, in the process relinquishing all hopes of accomplishing many tasks in a single day. My hosts were extremely gracious about my delay (perhaps because of the baked goods I brought?) and kindly gave me the tour of their young operation.
At three years old, Cedar Grove and Serenbe are close in age, though Cedar Grove carries the distinction of having been started by total rookies. My friends had never farmed before setting up shop at Cedar Grove, but they have learned fast. As proof of their resolve and hard work, they are already nearing the end of their first asparagus harvest. That may not sound like such an accomplishment, but consider this: it takes three years for asparagus to produce a first harvest. They must have hit the ground running.
I spent the better part of three hours touring the three acres they have under production, swapping stupid chicken stories, favorite plant varieties, and general growing advice. As the late spring twilight settled into the corners, we moved inside and our conversation moved to the future: for their farm, for Athens' Farmer's Markets, and for the world in the face of a global food crisis. By the time I finally left Cedar Grove my headlights were turned to highbeams and my backseat was stuffed with produce. Their greenhouse is an unheated hoophouse, in which they grow greens all winter long, so their Swiss chard and dwarf Siberian kale were farther along than our own. In addition to the chard and kale, they supplied me with two of my favorite springtime treats, fresh asparagus and tiny, succulent strawberries. I'm hard pressed to think of a better birthday present!
Swiss Chard Gratin
Serves 6
This is a phenomenally tasty yet simple recipe that celebrates chard. Do it right by using good cheese and whole milk. Your tastebuds will thank you, I promise.
2 lb (12-16 leaves) swiss chard, stems sliced and leaves cut into 1-inch ribbons
4 tablespoons butter
1 onion, halved and sliced
2-3 shitake mushrooms, sliced (optional)
1/4 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
2 cups milk
1 cup grated Gruyere or Asiago cheese
salt and pepper, to taste
1/4 cup dried bread crumbs
Bring a large pot of water to a boil. Add the chard stems and cook for 2 minutes. Add the leaves and cook and additional minute. Drain well and set aside.
Preheat the oven to 350 and grease a 1 1/2 quart casserole dish with butter.
Melt butter over medium high heat in a medium saucepan. Add the onion and sauté until soft, about 3 minutes. Wish in the flour to form a paste. Whisk in the milk and bring to a boil. Reduce the hear and stir in the cheese. Season with salt and pepper and remove from heat. Fold in the chard.
Transfer to the prepared dish and sprinkle the top with breadcrumbs.
Bake for 25-35 minutes, until the sauce is bubbling and the top is browned.
Portuguese Kale Soup
Serves 4
I had a lot of veggies on hand this week (more so than usual) so I did quite a bit of cooking. As a matter of fact, all of that time in the kitchen--coupled with full days on the farm--are probably the reason for my rather sporadic blogging as of late. Hopefully, after sampling this recipe, you'll agree that my absence was worth it. I was introduced to kale less than two years ago, and I can still remember eying the massive, tough leaves with apprehension. Luckily, the CSA program I had subscribed to included a delicious recipe (which I have since lost...good one, MK) and I have been a fan ever since. This soup is a snap to make, filling enough to stand alone as a meal, and according to my cookbook is one of the national dishes of Portugal. When I first read the recipe I feared that it was too simple to be particularly flavorful. How wrong I was!
1/2 lb chorizo sausage, sliced
8 cups chicken broth
2-4 medium potatoes, peeled and diced
12 oz. kale, stems discarded and leaves chopped (8 cups lightly packed)
salt and pepper to taste
Combine the chorizo and stock in a saucepan. Bring to a boil, then simmer while you prepare the potatoes.
Combine the potatoes with water to cover in a medium-size saucepan. Cover and bring to a boil. Boil until tender, about 8 minutes. Drain and briefly mash with a potato masher for an uneven, lumpy texture. Add to the chicken broth along with the kale.
Simmer for 10-15 minutes, until the kale is quite tender. Season with salt and pepper. Serve hot.
Alas, 6:15 found me sans cell reception at the tail end of a dirt road in what could easily pass for Deliverance country. This was not the farm I was looking for. After some backtracking, the interrogation of one rather bemused jogger, and several frazzled cell phone conversations, I found my farm, in the process relinquishing all hopes of accomplishing many tasks in a single day. My hosts were extremely gracious about my delay (perhaps because of the baked goods I brought?) and kindly gave me the tour of their young operation.
At three years old, Cedar Grove and Serenbe are close in age, though Cedar Grove carries the distinction of having been started by total rookies. My friends had never farmed before setting up shop at Cedar Grove, but they have learned fast. As proof of their resolve and hard work, they are already nearing the end of their first asparagus harvest. That may not sound like such an accomplishment, but consider this: it takes three years for asparagus to produce a first harvest. They must have hit the ground running.
I spent the better part of three hours touring the three acres they have under production, swapping stupid chicken stories, favorite plant varieties, and general growing advice. As the late spring twilight settled into the corners, we moved inside and our conversation moved to the future: for their farm, for Athens' Farmer's Markets, and for the world in the face of a global food crisis. By the time I finally left Cedar Grove my headlights were turned to highbeams and my backseat was stuffed with produce. Their greenhouse is an unheated hoophouse, in which they grow greens all winter long, so their Swiss chard and dwarf Siberian kale were farther along than our own. In addition to the chard and kale, they supplied me with two of my favorite springtime treats, fresh asparagus and tiny, succulent strawberries. I'm hard pressed to think of a better birthday present!
Swiss Chard Gratin
Serves 6
This is a phenomenally tasty yet simple recipe that celebrates chard. Do it right by using good cheese and whole milk. Your tastebuds will thank you, I promise.
2 lb (12-16 leaves) swiss chard, stems sliced and leaves cut into 1-inch ribbons
4 tablespoons butter
1 onion, halved and sliced
2-3 shitake mushrooms, sliced (optional)
1/4 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
2 cups milk
1 cup grated Gruyere or Asiago cheese
salt and pepper, to taste
1/4 cup dried bread crumbs
Bring a large pot of water to a boil. Add the chard stems and cook for 2 minutes. Add the leaves and cook and additional minute. Drain well and set aside.
Preheat the oven to 350 and grease a 1 1/2 quart casserole dish with butter.
Melt butter over medium high heat in a medium saucepan. Add the onion and sauté until soft, about 3 minutes. Wish in the flour to form a paste. Whisk in the milk and bring to a boil. Reduce the hear and stir in the cheese. Season with salt and pepper and remove from heat. Fold in the chard.
Transfer to the prepared dish and sprinkle the top with breadcrumbs.
Bake for 25-35 minutes, until the sauce is bubbling and the top is browned.
Portuguese Kale Soup
Serves 4
I had a lot of veggies on hand this week (more so than usual) so I did quite a bit of cooking. As a matter of fact, all of that time in the kitchen--coupled with full days on the farm--are probably the reason for my rather sporadic blogging as of late. Hopefully, after sampling this recipe, you'll agree that my absence was worth it. I was introduced to kale less than two years ago, and I can still remember eying the massive, tough leaves with apprehension. Luckily, the CSA program I had subscribed to included a delicious recipe (which I have since lost...good one, MK) and I have been a fan ever since. This soup is a snap to make, filling enough to stand alone as a meal, and according to my cookbook is one of the national dishes of Portugal. When I first read the recipe I feared that it was too simple to be particularly flavorful. How wrong I was!
1/2 lb chorizo sausage, sliced
8 cups chicken broth
2-4 medium potatoes, peeled and diced
12 oz. kale, stems discarded and leaves chopped (8 cups lightly packed)
salt and pepper to taste
Combine the chorizo and stock in a saucepan. Bring to a boil, then simmer while you prepare the potatoes.
Combine the potatoes with water to cover in a medium-size saucepan. Cover and bring to a boil. Boil until tender, about 8 minutes. Drain and briefly mash with a potato masher for an uneven, lumpy texture. Add to the chicken broth along with the kale.
Simmer for 10-15 minutes, until the kale is quite tender. Season with salt and pepper. Serve hot.
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