Please pass the potatoes . . .

Just listened to a 20 minute CBC podcast of the program “The 180,” with Jim Brown. He was interviewing Al Mussel; the descriptor for the interview reads: “Want to Save the Planet? Skip the farmer's market.” The argument wasn't hard to follow, if somewhat hard to swallow: the world population requires efficient, massive food production which local, intensive farming can't deliver. Hence, if we want to feed the world, relying on local, intensive production will require putting more land into agricultural use which, in turn, will devastate wet lands, forests, etc.

      Like many, we (my wife and I) have fallen in love with the local food markets. Recently, we went out to a nephew's small market garden and dug our own potatoes, beets, carrots and picked a bushel of tomatoes. A month ago, we joined a group of friends in butchering 113 free range chickens in exchange for our winter's supply. Our experience is that local production allows us to judge the quality of the product, thereby enabling healthier, tastier eating. (The emphasis, I think, should be on “tastier”: eat a tomato off the vine or a chicken off the grass and store produce begins to taste like cardboard.)

      But then, we North Americans have choices in this matter; much of the world doesn't.

      Obviously, the discussion about food consumption and production can't be just one dialogue. An individual household's relation to the sources of its food is not the same subject as the feeding of the world's population. Unless we have small farms of our own and energy generated off-grid, foodstuffs have to find their way to our kitchens through some means outside of our direct control. That reality alone propels us beyond the mere consideration of our personal diet choices. On a world scale, the fact that some regions can produce so much foodstuff that they're always in surplus and in search of markets doesn't present an obvious solution to world hunger. If the goal is nutritious, uncompromised, balanced diets for everyone, I have no problem reaching its achievement for my household; when I'm asked to contribute to reaching that goal for everyone in the global village, I don't know what more I can do than support emergency aid through MCC or another similar organization.

      Logically, everyone in the world should be near the source of his food. An imperative corollary to this would obviously be the curtailing of population growth to match the productivity potential of the general area, an extension of the simple admonition that a couple should never allow themselves 6 kids if they only have means to feed 2. A second corollary—to my mind—would be the internationalization of the world's food supply; when food is raised, bought/sold and consumed like widgets on the world market, it's difficult to see how its production and distribution can ever be made to serve the goal of good diets for all persons.

      A third prerequisite would, of course, have to do with ending all wars for all time. I'll get right on that as soon as I'm done this.

      Hopeless as it may seem, let's not give up. Thumb your nose at Al Mussel and shop at your farmers' market, dig up a plot in your backyard and grow your own tomatoes, send buckets of money to aid organizations, buy fair-trade coffee at Ten Thousand Villages, write your MP a letter whenever you see government skimping on their aid budget, shop at Mom and Pop rather than at corporate chains, bicycle more and drive less, and recycle, reuse and reduce.

      
     (I took a break right here to brush potatoes and peel carrots—garden fresh—for dinner. How anyone can sit down to new vegetables without thanking creation and gardeners first is beyond me. Segne Vater diese Speise, uns zur Kraft und dir zum Preise. Amen)

How am I gonna feed all these people?

Last Monday, we’re told, the earth’s population passed the 7 billion mark. We were also told that population was being added at the rate of 4.4 per second, so by today, the number would be 2,661,120 more than that, or 7,002,661,120 and counting—that is, if we weren’t also dying at the rate of . . . X per second. (For an interesting read on the meaning of 7 billion people, see http://www.cbc.ca/news/technology/story/2011/10/27/f-population-big-numbers.html).

               It was Thomas Robert Malthus (1776-1834) who pioneered world-wide demographic studies that predicted almost 200 years ago that population would rapidly outstrip the earth’s ability to feed everyone. The starvation he predicted didn’t appear as early as prognosticated, but when we hear about African famine, we’re reminded that parts of the earth are periodically in just such a dilemma.

               On the other hand, we’re assured that there is food enough for all; that it’s merely a problem of difficulty in transporting it from place to place to meet emerging need. But if you or I were faced with an Ethiopia-like famine, this information would bring little consolation.

               An obvious conclusion is that the world is not overpopulated, but that parts of it certainly are. Where I live, in a small town in Saskatchewan in 2011, rising population is still linked to progress, the store shelves are always brimming with cheap food and the nagging problem is not starvation, but obesity.

               Rosthern, Saskatchewan is not overpopulated. Parts of Africa may be.

               Many animal species are territorial; they stake out areas large enough to sustain themselves and defend those areas pugnaciously. Inuit would traditionally limit their households to sustainable numbers by birth control or, if necessary, infanticide. Apparently the instinct to balance population to local environment exists but has been largely extinguished in the course of human development. The ability to reach and sustain such a balance is as important a human skill as is agricultural knowhow. The relevant point—surely—is to grow enough food, not to grow as much food as is possible. Enough may in future mean: as much as is necessary to feed an area’s population without importation. As fossil fuel energy dwindles over time, its price will inevitably rise and the growing and transportation costs of food will rise proportionally. Poor areas of the world may increasingly be out of luck when droughts, for instance, curtail local supplies.

               Population control is one of a number of measures that is needed. Birth control devices are far lighter, easier and cheaper to transport than grain, meat, fruits and vegetables.

               The other measure will, of course, be the wresting of food production and marketing from corporate hands. But that’s a whole other story.

If I had a million dollars, I'd buy you . . .

 Money, money, money

Coleus, coleus, coleus

I’m a bit preoccupied with money these days. Oh, I know; “a bit preoccupied” is an oxymoron. I should say that when I’m at work, I’m preoccupied with money matters and when I’m at home, well, I’m enjoying the relief of not thinking about that for a while, except that the news tends to intrude. 

           

Let me explain:

     I do payroll for the actors and crew in the production currently running for 31 performances at the Station Arts Centre. Our core is made up of actors who belong to the Canadian Actors Equity Association, a professional union. Others are not. They are paid differently and receive unequal remuneration for doing, basically, the same job. None receive a fair living wage when the blood sweat and tears they throw into the work, the working hours, the itinerant nature of their profession—they’re always job hunting—are considered.

     We are silently auctioning a donated painting by a talented local artist at the Station. The bidding has gone from $200.00 to $350.00 so far. A painting in our gallery was purchased recently by a patron for $3,000+.

     What’s the right price for a great dinner out? How much is a ticket to Jasper Station or a Canadian Tenors concert worth? The dollars patrons pay for the entertainment product we provide is seldom enough to cover the cost of producing it. What happens when cultural grants dry up federally—which they probably will under the current balance-the-budget drive?

     A commentator on the East African famine said that there was food to be had in Somalia, but with increasing prices, the majority of people simply hadn’t the money to buy any of it. Should we help people in this dilemma by sending money? And if so, how much would be fair? Will one child live who would otherwise die if I send a hundred dollars? Five hundred? 75 cents?

The desk at which I’m sitting along with the computer on which I’m composing could be sold for more than the average two-thirds world farm family is “worth.” Should I sell them? do my writing at the kitchen table with a pencil? send the difference to Africa? Should I at least feel guilty about my good fortune?

    One thing seems clear to me in all this. Inequities—whether in the area of arts & culture or in the availability of food—are systemic. They are symptoms of problems of policy, the failures of national governments and international monetary systems, the rapidly-increasing control of multinational corporations over the marketplace. To try to patch up the symptoms with band aids is one thing; to insist that the policies change to prevent the next famine takes the real courage. Have I got it? Have you?

    Two actions we can take now. Send $500.00 for Eastern Africa to MCC or a similar organization that you trust. You can find it. Write letters to your MP and your MLA to tell them you favour keeping the Canadian Wheat Board in place. If it dies, the most vigorous hurrahs will come from Cargill and the other mega-corporations that are determined to control all the world’s food resources for profit.

    You may be thinking: what a crass subject for a Sunday morning. If you’re headed off to church today, though, one facet of the worship service will undoubtedly be the passing of the offering plate. Yet one more money decision: do I put in a tooney, a twenty or a two-hundred dollar cheque?

Have a relaxing Sunday . . . anyway!   

              

Food, glorious food

And the winner for the best Moussaka made by an Anabaptist is . . . ARNE!!

Order me another, please.

Like most of you—probably—I am in love with food. Furthermore, I am extremely promiscuous in my affections. I can devour with equal relish a hot dog on a store-bought bun heaped with mustard and relish as I can a rare and delicate avocado and butter lettuce salad with balsamic and virgin olive oil dressing topped with sesame seeds. Nothing starts up my salivary glands like a perfectly roasted asparagus Rinderoulade with a side of mashed potatoes and garden-fresh baby peas. But if that’s not available, I can be perfectly happy with a cheezeburger and a pile of French fries with ketchup.

               What’s more, I like watching cooking shows on TV and reading cookbooks. It’s through the variety of cooking shows that I’ve come to the following conclusions about the relationship between people and food. Food is religion in our culture—and in many others, I suspect—with the French and Italians leading the way. But differences that are the most striking—attitudes toward food and cooking—can cross cultures just as there can be African Jehovah’s Witnesses and Swahili-speaking Mennonites.

               I begin with that attitude of near-worship of food, of food plants, etc., that characterizes some people. To them, tradition is everything; they practically faint at the sight of someone trying to whisk a sauce with a fork on high heat. They are adamant that there’s only one way to roast a duck properly. They can’t abide anything that’s even slightly overcooked or underdone; pasta that’s not done el dente is only fit for hogs. They lean heavily toward food names that are in a foreign language. Not only will they not eat at Tim Horton’s; they can’t even bring themselves to say “Tim’s.” They are the high church of food; eating is a highly structured, liturgical event. They pay homage to butter and cream. They are proud to call themselves Conservative.

               Next come the food fundamentalists. They see food in black and white, figuratively speaking. As adamant about the rights and wrongs of food culture as the traditionalists, their choices are driven by a combination of conspiracy theories, Biblical injunctions and reverence for an ever-changing procession  of health gurus. So preoccupied are they with balancing their mineral, vitamin, protein and carbohydrate intakes that they hardly have time for anything else. But that’s OK; they have truth on their side. Also like the traditionalists, they wouldn’t be caught dead in a fast-food joint, but unlike the traditionalist, they are quite evangelical; they feel compelled to win converts.

               There are those, of course, who can’t much be bothered with the niceties of consuming or not consuming food. They’re right at home in the whole range of eating establishments from Boston Pizza to restaurants with “Chez” in their names. They are not intimidated by gravy or ketchup, and yet, know how to eat a whole lobster gracefully. They appreciate caviar on a boiled egg, but they enjoy nothing better on a weekend evening than frying up a batch of eggs and potatoes, opening a beer and watching a baseball game on TV while they eat out of the frying pan. They are the food liberals, and they don’t care what anybody else eats, as long as they don’t eat their lunch.

  And at the bottom of the food chain, so to speak, are the food agnostics and atheists. They ignore others’ preoccupations with food altogether and sneer at the pronouncements of the traditionalists, the fundamentalists and the liberals alike. They neither eat nor dine—they feed. They feed so they don’t die or because they’re angry, upset, depressed or because it’s a day that ends in “y”; they order in a lot, throw frozen pizzas in the oven, drink until the beer runs out, eat until they’re comatose. If they have a kitchen, their tools consist of a few burnt pots and half a wooden spoon; neither cooking as an art nor eating as a social sacrament would ever occur to them. They have terrible table manners; tend to shovel their food while bent over their plates with one arm in their laps. Even liberals find them irritating.

               As for me, I can’t think of a greater pleasure than sitting at length around a table with friends and eating well-prepared and perfectly spiced and herbed food. I guess laughter and banter are my two favourite condiments. I’m probably a food socialist.

               By the way: I invented a new way to enjoy cauliflower yesterday; here’s the recipe: 

Herbed Cauliflower Florentine

Ingredients:

10-12 cauliflower florets

ca. 10-15 pak choy or spinach leaves, chopped

½ cup freshly shredded old cheddar
1 Tbsp butter
1Tbsp whole wheat flour
½ cup milk
1 tsp oregano flakes

Salt & pepper to taste

Method:

Bring cauliflower to boil. After 5 minutes add pak choy or spinach. After 2 minutes, drain and cover.

In a frying pan, make sauce with butter, flower and milk. Stir in shredded cheddar. Add oregano and salt and pepper to taste.

Toss cauliflower and pak choy or spinach with sauce and serve.

Serves 2-4 as side dish.

Guten Appetit!