Defining Local

Do You Know Where Your Food Comes From?

As I’ve started to learn more and more about our food and agriculture systems in the U.S., I’ve noticed the word “local” popping up a lot. Have you noticed it too? In truth, I think you’d have to be living under a rock not to notice the fact that everyone seems to be talking about local these days. But what exactly does local mean? And is it really all that important? (The answer, in my opinion, is yes – and no. But we’ll get to that in a bit)

So first, what do people mean when they talk about local?

There are a number of definitions floating out there in cyberspace. Search “Local Food” on Wikipedia and you find that local could mean within city limits or within state limits – depending on who you ask. Whole Foods says local is anything that has traveled less than 7 hours by car or truck, and this local coop in New York City backs that up by saying local is up to 500 miles, or one day’s worth of driving.

Making matters worse, where the food is grown/raised isn’t the only issue:

Where local food is determined by the distance it has traveled, the wholesale distribution system can confuse the calculations. Fresh food that is grown very near to where it will be purchased may still travel hundreds of miles out of the area through the industrial system before arriving back at a local store.

Yikes, this is complicated.

Funny enough, my mom even asked her neighborhood grocer in California about fruit that was labeled local, yet came from Florida – and the store manager told her that the U.S.A. was local! Obviously, everyone has their own definition of what local really means.

It turns out that I’m not the only one trying to get to the bottom of this question. A number of bloggers have chronicled their attempts at eating locally. Inspired by Vermont’s recent “Eat Local Challenge,”  Every Kitchen Table decided to try his hand at one week of eating foods produced within 100 miles of his home. Two bloggers in British Columbia decided to spend a year eating food grown within 100 miles, but soon ran into big problems:

First was the expense. We used to eat a nearly vegan diet at home – our dwindling bank accounts emphasized how much cheaper [vegan] beans, rice and tofu are than wild oysters and organic boutique cheeses. Then, we wasted away. We were unable to find any locally grown grains  - no more bread, pasta, or rice. The only starch left to us was the potato. Between us, we lost about 15 pounds in six weeks. Then there was a lack of variety. From March 21 until the farmers' markets started in mid-May, the only locally grown vegetables available were humble fare like kale, cabbage, turnip, rutabaga, parsnip and leeks.

That doesn't sound like fun!

Perhaps the best example of someone trying to eat local is No Impact Man, aka Colin Beavan, a New Yorker who managed to convince his wife (and by extension their small child) that a year of living “no impact lives” – including eating only what they could find at farmer’s markets – was a good idea (to see the trailer for Colin’s fabulous documentary, check out my recent blog post). He manages to make eating locally look realistically challenging, yet intriguing at the same time - surely no small feat.

So now it’s time for me to throw my hat in the ring. While I’m certainly not an expert, I’ve found that my increasing awareness about food and sustainability issues makes for an incredibly depressing weekly trip to the grocery store. Everywhere I turn, even at the most eco-friendly and neighborhood grocery stores (like Russo’s, a favorite of mine that does cultivate relationships with local farms), I’m confronted with questions about where every potential piece of food has come from.

For an everyday consumer trying to make conscious, responsible choices with her food purchases, navigating the maze of the grocery aisles to find local food is a really tough and overwhelming assignment.

 Ok, so we know that local means a lot of things. Does this matter? If we can’t define it, should we really care about eating local?

Over the course of the last few weeks, my husband and I have been spending a lot of time talking about this very question – challenging ourselves to define how we will make food choices that sit right with our “inner compass”. And we’ve come up with two key takeaways.

1) Local is Seasonal: Instead of spending all this time on what’s local (inevitably raising questions not just about how far away something was grown but how far it travelled to reach your dinner table), ask yourself: what should I be eating right now, at this time of year? What naturally grows in abundance this month, or this season? We’ve thought a lot about this and it seems to us that when you think seasonally, you end up thinking locally.

There are a number of resources out there to help you find seasonal produce, including this Vegetable Seasonality Chart and another Seasonality Chart put together by New Jersey growers. Originally I had wanted to create a pretty diagram for you to click on and print out, but here’s the kicker: each region/state has different access to different seasonal food, which means there is no gold standard for what to eat when. Your first best bet is to Google “Seasonal Food” and “Your Town” and see what comes up.

I’m convinced, though, that by eating seasonally, you’ll actually be eating locally.

2) The Practical Impact Jablows: After seeing the documentary about No Impact Man’s year-long experiment, Dan and I talked about whether we could change our habits and lifestyles to the extent that Colin and his family did. While I’m impressed and inspired by the actions they took, I know that not all of them are feasible (going without a refrigerator) or appealing (using cloth toilet paper – seriously). That said, there’s no reason that we can’t do our part to be practical about our food choices (not to mention other areas like energy consumption).

With that, we’ve labeled ourselves The Practical Impact Jablows – perhaps not as snazzy a title as No Impact Man, but it sums us up pretty well. Do we want to eat locally and seasonally? Yes. We believe it’s better for our health, our taste buds, and our souls (and maybe even our wallets). Will we always be able to enforce this seasonal-only policy? No, of course not. In the end, we want to be proud of the choices we’re making, and if that means 80-90% of the time we’re able to adhere to our seasonal goals, we’ll be ok with that.

After all, how many apples can one woman eat?!

In the end, each of us has different ideas about what’s ok to eat. What’s local to me may seem too far away for you. And that’s ok. What matters is that we’re eating food that, as Josh Viertel from Slow Food USA says, has a story that we’re proud to tell. All food has a history – and for some of us, being connected to that history provides the deeper meaning we’ve been looking for.

Coming to a Theatre Near You

Recently I came across the story of Colin Beavan, a blogger also known as No Impact Man. For one year, Colin and his family committed themselves to living a "no impact" lifestyle, taking incredible steps to reduce their environmental footprint. In Colin's own words:

No Impact Man is my experiment with researching, developing and adopting a way of life for me and my little family—one wife, one toddler, one dog—to live in the heart of New York City while causing no net environmental impact. To do this, we will decrease the things we do that hurt the earth—make trash, cause carbon dioxide emissions, for example—and increase the things we do that help the earth—clean up the banks of the Hudson River, give money to charity, rescue sea birds, say.

In mathematical terms, in case you are an engineer or just a geek who likes math, we are trying to achieve an equilibrium that looks something like this:

Negative Impact + Positive Impact = Zero.

No net impact. Get it?

Many of us, myself included, have tried to find ways to live greener lives, like using cloth bags at the supermarket, supporting local farmers, and recycling and composting at home. But what's fascinating about Colin's story is the extent to which he and his family really practiced what they preached. In fact, his entire blog is filled with useful information, tips and tricks, and stories from the year. For example, you can see just how much waste they kept out of the landfills through their efforts.

Lucky for us, Colin's terrific blog has been turned into a book and a movie. The film is making the rounds in select cities throughout the U.S. - and I'm thrilled to say it's coming to Boston on October 2nd. I can't wait to see it - and I'll be sure to provide a full update on The Changebase.

In the meantime, check out the trailer - it's incredible to see just how far they went to live a "no impact" lifestyle. 

Enjoy!

Feeling inspired to try living your own "no impact" life? Check out The No Impact Project, a new nonprofit aimed at helping everyday people make small changes that add up to big impact.

My Journey for Sustainable Food

Last winter, my husband Dan and I noticed we were beginning to struggle in our quest for fresh, local food. As a Californian learning to endure my first Boston winter, I wanted more variety in our produce. At the same time Dan, a culinary school student, was learning more and more about the role of things like corn syrup and stabilizers in processed food. Between the two of us, we often ended up wondering what we could do to ensure that what we put into our bodies was healthy, fresh and ultimately unprocessed. So we took up cooking more and expanded our repertoire to include items like homemade bread, chicken stock, ice cream and others. Still, in hindsight we relied more often than we would have liked on cheap meat, poultry and dairy – often because it was what we could afford.

All of this came full circle recently in the sustainability class I took a few weeks ago. The day we talked about global food production – including factory farms, or Concentrated Animal Feedlot Operations (CAFOs) in the U.S. – I felt like the world opened up and swallowed me with it.

(Ashley’s Note: CAFOs are hugely depressing operations, in my opinion. For your sake and mine, I am not going to recount just how unhealthy and harmful these farms are for animals, for humans, for our economy and for our environment. I’ll just say that for a brief intro, google “Factory Farm” and see what comes up…)

Anyway, I had always wanted to believe that factory farming wasn’t my problem. Sure, Dan and I would buy our meat at big grocery stores and not really ever give any thought to where it came from. But, hey, this kind of farming was going on somewhere far away – so we couldn’t really see it. Plus, we were starving students and the meat was cheap. Right? Wrong.

In fact these are all really lame excuses.

As soon as I heard the food lecture I knew we had been fooling ourselves. This was our problem. Our meat purchases at big grocery chains had unknowingly given a vote of confidence to Perdue and Tyson and all the other CAFO operators that their way of doing business was ok with us. But it wasn’t.

The day after our class ended, I woke up ready for action. Convinced there had to be a way for me to find locally and sustainably-raised meat, poultry and dairy in Boston, I got to work doing research. I planned my route, put on my walking shoes, grabbed my grocery cart and reusable grocery bags, and set out on my adventure. 

Courtesy: Google Maps. Distance: 4.6 miles (Note: start and end point located at point E).

I would first hit Savenor’s in Cambridge, a local favorite with well-known ties to sustainable farms. Surely they would have plenty of “free-range/grass-fed/happy animal” meat to buy. Knowing I might need a back-up plan, I figured that worst case I could go to Whole Foods, just a short walk away from Savenor’s. They may be pricey, I thought, but at least they’ll have a selection.

Four hours and almost five miles later, I ended up at the Shaw’s Market near my house feeling defeated and depressed. I did go to Savenor’s, but was dismayed to see that much of their meat was unlabeled and therefore gave no indication of where it had come from. When I asked a salesman the origins of a particular pork loin, he simply said, “Iowa”. While this may not have immediately signaled “CAFO,” his comment still concerned me because of the issue of how far this pork had to travel in order to reach the market. Surely, I thought, there are farms closer to Boston that raise pigs?

Next I went to Whole Foods, prepared to hand over what little money I had in the name of sustainable farming. Unfortunately here, though, the prices were just so amazingly steep that I actually couldn’t rationalize paying for food, no matter how free-range the animals were.

At this point, I was exhausted, dehydrated and completely without a Plan C. And the worst part was that I still needed groceries! So I surrendered and slowly made my way to the Shaw’s near my house. While Shaw’s is certainly not a terrible market, to me it signified my failed attempt to find and support local, sustainable food production in my own backyard.

That evening, I came home with my full cart of groceries and got to work thinking about solutions. My pilgrimage around Cambridge had taught me that finding responsibly-raised meat would be harder than I thought.

But I was convinced that I could find a way to eat healthy and locally, while also supporting the right kind of farms.

In the end, after considerable discussion, Dan and I decided to sign up for a share in a local CSA farm. Community Supported Agriculture represents “a shared commitment to building a more local and equitable agricultural system, one that allows growers to focus on land stewardship and still maintain productive and profitable small farms”[i]. Stillman's Farm, located in Hardwick, MA, is a CSA that raises its animals according to its own “Conscientiously Grown Philosophy”:

Our farm offers conscientiously raised, grass-fed and pastured, hormone-free meats and poultry. We believe in raising our animals in a manner that is humane and respectful, a respect that extends not only to our animals but to our land as well. Our sustainable, more holistic approach to animal husbandry yields better tasting, safer, and more nutritious meats and poultry.

I had considered the idea of a CSA for produce in the past, but I did not know that meat CSAs existed until a few weeks ago. Given the fact that neither Dan nor I plan to become vegetarians anytime soon, the CSA meat share seemed like a smart, responsible way to use our wallets to support something we believe in.

We pick up our first share in late October and we cannot wait to start cooking!

Interestingly, this little experiment (plus all of the research I have done into the U.S. farm industry) has really informed how I look at all of my purchase decisions – from food, to consumer goods, to energy and water consumption. And it has gotten me talking to everyone else about what I learned. The education and awareness I have recently gained has now been passed on to other people in my life – a true ripple-effect that has started impacting how my friends and loved ones relate to and understand their food.

This is perhaps the most profound learning of all: when it comes to an industry as powerful and far-reaching as factory farming, it is easy to assume that one person can’t make a difference. In my lowest moments, I worried that there was no way that I alone could take a meaningful stand against this kind of production.

But the last few weeks have shown to me that, in fact, one person standing up is all it takes to get people talking - and acting.

---

[i] USDA National Agriculture Library. Retrieved September 11, 2009 from http://www.nal.usda.gov/afsic/pubs/csa/csadef.shtml

Local Sustainability in Action

Recently I had the chance to attend the Island Creek Oyster Festival in Duxbury, MA. While being a fan of oysters is reason enough to go, this time around I was lucky enough to score a VIP/backstage pass through my husband Dan, a budding chef (and blogger!) who was helping out the nice folks from East Coast Grill for the day.

Interestingly, the event caught my attention not just for the long "who's who" list of local chefs participating, but also because it was billed as a sustainable, or green, event:

This year, the Island Creek Oyster Festival is attempting to go as green as possible. The Festival plans to donate all oyster shells to the New Hampshire oyster shell recycling project; chefs and beverage sponsors will use compostable plates, glassware, and utensils; and attendees will be asked to participate by lending a hand in all recycling efforts.

There were some things that this festival did really well. These included:

A table at the entrance with lots of great sustainability information for local residents...

...and details on the New England Wind Fund.

Perhaps the other most noticeable indication that this was a green event was the presence of multiple recycling containers throughout the festival grounds. At each recycling station (there must have been at least 10 stations set up), there were separate bins for oyster shells (being recycled for fertiziler - so cool!), compost, single stream recycling, and all other trash. There were a ton of volunteers at the event, and I saw them regularly swapping out full containers of recycled material with fresh, empty ones. Given the sheer size of the event (with almost 3,000 people expected) and the fact that all cups, plates, and utensils were recyclable, you can imagine that they collected quite a bit by the end of the night.

That said, there were some indications that this green event didn't quite get everything right.

First of all, as terrific as all of those recycling bins were, the number of choices one person had to make in order to throw away his or her trash was just too overwhelming for some to grasp. Here you can see one guest trying to figure just where to put everything:

While the education aspect of this recycling experience can't be overlooked, I do believe there are some issues with asking people to do too much. When you combine good food and drinks with long lines for oysters, you get a crowd that's more interested in dumping their trash wherever they can, not making sure they sort things correctly. In fact, I saw numerous volunteers just standing by the bins trying to direct guests where to put their recyclables - and even that didn't stop them from having to dumpster dive regularly to re-sort plates that had gone into the wrong bin.

Yes, education is crucially important - but I wondered what the event committee could have done to streamline this so that it was easier for everyone to participate?

Also, even though all of the materials used were recyclable, there seemed to be no coordination among chefs to get them to share plates, utensils etc. This meant that at every food station guests received a new plate, new napkin and new utensils - and from my observations it appeared very few guests used their plates more than once. What good is a plate made from recycled materials if it's not used more than once?!

Finally, perhaps the most embarrassing green mishap of the night: Water Bottles!

All night long this table was stocked with water bottles - and with no opportunity to refill them, they were used once and tossed. Just trying to stay hydrated, I went through 3 bottles myself! For a green event planning committee that had gone so far as to recycle oyster shells, you'd think they would have considered something a bit more earth-friendly...

In all, it really was a terrific event - and it did raise money for a great cause (the Island Creek Oysters Foundation). I was personally very proud of their efforts to make this event as sustainable as they could. In the end, I think it's a great case study of how hard it is to "do sustainable" the right way. Their intentions were good, but they just missed the mark on a few key things.

#1 Takeaway for next year's event? Give everyone their own reusable cup!

Nature's Entrepreneurs

As I mentioned in a previous post, one of the challenges when talking about sustainability is wondering how you (or I) could possibly do anything to help the dire situation our planet is facing. One of the most exciting parts of my Global Sustainability class from last week was the discussion of how entrepreneurs and innovators are looking at sustainability not as a problem, but as an opportunity.

An opportunity to make a difference, yes. But also an opportunity to make money.

Last week my classmates and I were asked to cull through various news sources to identify how entrepreneurs are developing new and innovative technologies to create both "quick wins" and "game changers" in the field of sustainability. We identified a variety of ideas that are already in-use or on their way to launch, including:

• Using algae as a renewable source of fuel for jet planes and automobiles
• Building wave energy farms off the coast of Portugal
• Creating synthetic trees to capture carbon almost 1,000 times faster than real trees
• Developing point-of-use water purification straws that allow anyone, anywhere to have access to safe drinking water.

In short, sustainability is an area filled with opportunity for both social changemakers and profit-driven entrepreneurs (or, if you're like me, someone looking to do both).

One area that's particularly inspiring for entrepreneurs to look for opportunities and solutions is nature itself. In fact, the field of Biomimicry looks to nature as a source of inspiration, innovation, and answers for our current sustainability challenges.

I recently came across an interesting talk by Janine Benyus, president of the Biomimicry Institute, about looking for answers from our planet's first entrepreneur: nature itself.

I hope you enjoy it.