Super Eco

Photo credit: ms.lume, flickr

It was Truman, my four-year-old, who first saw them. Ants, hundreds of 'em, and I'm pretty sure they were carrying away the alpine strawberry seeds I'd just planted. A few minutes later, I was discovering that they'd stripped the roots of my baby kale plants, the ones who days before had been so healthy I was considering putting out a sign. "Kale starts for sale!" What were the ants doing?

Strip farming aphid "honeydew," I soon discovered. And that was the weirdest thing I'd learned in my garden all week, part of an ever-growing list of strange facts about growing edibles:

1. Ants don't use sustainable farming practices. No. Ants love aphids, who in turn love brassicas (kale, broccoli, cabbage, beets, chard, and cauliflower are all in this family). Those crafty ants will "farm" their aphids on one healthy plant, and when that one's been destroyed, they'll move on to the next plant.
2. Figs live forever. Ok, not forever, but it never ceases to amaze me that you can stick a branch of a fig tree in the ground, water it well, and the next year you can harvest figs from it. We have several fig branches-cum-trees budding out little baby figs right now in our yard.
3. Plants like to caffeinate. Just as I do, plants love coffee. While it's better for the babies after going through the composting process, it's perfect for a mulch or for sprinkling around the roots as a pest deterrent (though as I've learned, its deterrent properties are largely the stuff of legend. See below).
   

Photo credit: G.J. Charlet II, flickr

Every time I question Starbucks' environmental sensitivity, someone points out how wonderful it is that the coffee chain offers its used coffee grounds for free use in customers' compost heaps. "Grounds for your garden," the stickers on the bags read. I like to be contrary and point out the chain's other shortcomings, but really? I should be thinking positive and counting those beans' blessings.

And for the organic gardener, coffee grounds have many purposes. For one thing, seed meal (coffee beans = seeds, ground = meal) is a vital component for a good compost heap as it is high in nitrogen, balancing other carbon elements, such as fallen leaves and tree mulch. In addition, they help sustain high temperatures in compost heaps.

Composting coffee grounds (as with all food waste) instead of sending them to a landfill helps cut greenhouse gas emissions. Waste management engineer Dan Hurley says, "to keep organics out of the landfill is a good thing ... because organics decompose and produce methane. Methane is about 25 times as bad as carbon dioxide." Pour cold coffee you don't plan to drink on your compost heap, too, instead of down the drain.

Composting isn't the only use for coffee grounds in an organic garden. Sprinkled around plant beds, they're a great slug deterrent, and according to one source they keep kitties from using your well-prepared soil as a litter box.

Photo credit: sarah gilbert

I believe in a loaf of bread, a rescued Starbucks cup, a row of sunflowers, and planting peas in my front yard. Why? Because I believe I can make global change with these little things. Writing for the New York Times' Dot Earth blog, Andrew C. Rivkin points out that small acts—in this example, cleaning up a Hudson River beach in upstate New York—really do make a difference, especially over time and with the benefit of many people returning, over and over, to do those small things.

I see my role as a mama and writer as especially influential. A little thing I do while my three young boys are watching might be multiplied as they grow up, imitate me, and influence others. I try to pick up Starbucks cups to take home and compost when I see them stuck in bushes and branching trees in the local park (photographing them first, of course); now my three-year-old follows suit. When I plant sunflowers along the fence in my yard and let some of them dry up and drop seeds everywhere, baby sunflowers come up along the edge of the apartment complex driveway the next year (oops?), providing great food for bees. When I bake my own bread and cookies, buying flour and oats in 25-lb bags, I'm saving several layers of packaging, industrial pollutants, and transportation.

But my biggest impact comes from planting kale, and peas, and spinach, and lettuces, and grapes, and figs, and other edibles in my front yard. Many of my friends and family worry that the pollution from the busy street that passes our house, or hungry passers-by, might impact my veggies. But I'm more interested in the impact my veggies have on everyone who passes (not to mention how reducing my food miles and planting trees in my urban environment helps the planet). Neighbors and employees of nearby businesses stop to ask what we're doing and I give mini-lessons on pea culture or the many wonderful qualities of broccoli raab. Drivers slowed to wait behind a bus stopping at my corner watch me pluck chives for my mashed potatoes. And if someone should steal a grape, a sprig of thyme? They're welcome to it. Change starts small, and sometimes, change is as small as a pea.

Photo credit: sarah gilbert

The California Air Resources Board (CARB), a governmental agency and part of the California EPA, is about to announce that the corn ethanol math just doesn't make sense. Months (and years in some cases) after mainstream media outlets have declared that it might actually take more than one gallon of petroleum to produce one gallon of supposedly environmentally-friendly ethanol fuel; and in the best-case scenario, roughly 1.34 BTUs of energy are produced using 1.00 BTUs of input (and all of the corn America grows, if converted to ethanol, would only replace 12% of gasoline usage); California regulators are ready to state that the biofuel cannot help California reduce global warming.

A California law requires a severe decrease in carbon emissions from transportation fuels, and the CARB must assess the climate change impact of various fuels in order to make a determination about which alternatives to encourage. But according to a board spokesperson, the conversion of rainforests and other important ecosystems to cornfields; the only way to produce sufficient quantities of ethanol; has to be counted toward the fuel's emissions. And the math doesn't compute.

Biofuel researchers and other ethanol supporters are (of course) shocked, claiming that California's "science is extremely uncertain" even though they support the low carbon fuel standard—which ethanol industry types had hoped would further increase demand for their product. Cellulosic ethanol didn't get such bad reviews, though, and could be a viable alternative; but it's currently not cost-effective, and ethanol proponents say we need corn as a "bridge" to the cellulosic end of the rainbow. California doesn't seem sympathetic.

Big Corn, say critics of the industry, could be about to get its much-deserved comeuppance.

Photo credit: sarah gilbert

It all started with a sodden lemon tree. The "lonely lemons" got Rob Anderson, Tam Crawford, and Stephanie Sawchenko thinking: how could we get together the produce and the people who'd use it? Why let all these plums, lemons and kale go to waste? Why not introduce a technological solution to connect those awash in lemons with those that lack marmalade?

So VeggieTrader was born: a place, kind of like eBay (and with a logo very much like eBay) or craigslist (but with colors and cute veggie cartoons) where people could offer veggies, fruits, seeds, starts, and the occasional heap of compost or wood chips for trade or sale. Register, list your produce available and what you'd like in return ("anything" is one of the choices, leaving your gardening fate delightfully up to chance), add a description and (if desired) a photo, and wait for takers. It's like a dating service for your plumpest and juiciest Victory Garden goodies. In so many ways.

While I think the concept is brilliant, and am eagerly awaiting the day when there is more than one person offering items in my area (one of the founders is offering cherry tomato starts only a few miles away), it also makes me a little bit sad. Sad that our society would rather trade produce online than knock on a door and ask, "can I pick your lemons and bring you a jar of marmalade for your troubles?" Instead of offering Rob some little artichokes for his tomatoes, I'm going to take my babies to a seed and start swap, and trade veggies the way my grandma would have.

Of course, if I can't find anything good at the swap, Rob, do you want some baby artichokes?

Photo credit: sarah gilbert

Zoe Williams' headline makes it pretty clear which side she's going to fall down on. "To Breed or Not To Breed?" she asks. Reminds me of a bumper sticker on a car in my neighborhood: "Thank you for not breeding." (Grrr.) Her verdict: David Attenborough, who recently said we should severely limit population because of the effects on "ecology, atmospheric pollution and in terms of the space and food production," is right. She decides that "we can all understand the issues at stake perfectly well - none of it is terrifically complicated - but we cannot apply them on a personal level," and puts her own decision about how many children to have in these terms: "I only have two hands. And I want to watch telly."

Her dichotomy is rather simple; should we worry about the environment or servicing welfare when we decide whether to limit population growth?; but the arguments presented by her commenters I found far more interesting. One commenter presented the question of whether we should, instead, consider the "right to drive" as a more sensible place to limit carbon emissions. Another argues that wealth distribution, and our wasteful culture, should be addressed before population limits. A third called the human race a "Ponzi scheme." But my favorite was this: "People keep having sexual intercourse, often without a discussion about birth control because they're in the moment, having fun for once. This is the most obvious aspect of human nature which renders the green cause utterly utopian." Nothing gets people frothy with debate like population control. Check out Umbra's take, which puts the question in terms of women's rights (and the multitude of comments); Karen's perspective is one of privacy. Babble takes yet a different angle.

In my experience, the families who have chosen to limit their progeny for environmental reasons are very well-educated, upper-middle class, typically professional and urban. I've also observed families who seem to live the most "sustainable" lives, without cars, greatly reducing consumption, growing their own food, collecting rainwater and installing solar panels, who tend to have three or more children. It's a complex paradox that doesn't fit into the public debate at all; two utopian communities making decisions in two entirely different ways, neither of which is likely to have any impact. Because the other 80% of the planet is living without considering the environmental effects of its decisions. Should the thinking person breed? Does it even matter? I have to assume, no.

Photo credit: sarah gilbert

Her lard, said the woman behind the pork at Sweet Briar Farms, wasn't white enough. A recent convert to using lard from well-cared-for animals in my cooking, I was at her farmer's market booth to buy another package of leaf lard to render into the fat known for its excellence in pie crusts (and my fave for sautéing veggies). She showed me a can of her rendered lard; it was snowy white and smooth and lovely. She had been trying to sell the lard in stores, but the USDA told her she needed to add a chemical whitener.

"It's white!" she said, laughing when I asked, shocked, if the USDA really governs the color of our food? "Yes!" The nitrates required for bacon, she said, were to make it pink (you'd have to request nitrate-free bacon specially if you wanted to buy it from her). She's applied for an exception; if she can't get it, she says, she won't offer the lard in stores. "I told them I was selling natural pork products," she said, "I'm not going to add chemicals." Sweet Briar raises pork in the most environmentally-conscious way possible, using heritage "Duroc" pigs and eschewing antibiotics and all other feed additives.

What is this? Does the USDA really govern the color of our food? It does. A search turned up this regulation from the USDA [pdf link], which describes the characteristics required to label a product as lard. "Products... must have the following identity and quality characteristics to insure good color, odor, and taste of finished product: (1) Color ... White when solid, Maximum 3.0 red units in a 5 1/4 inch cell on the Lovibond scale." Our government is making sure we don't buy foods that aren't the right color, no matter how many chemicals are required in the execution of this vital duty. Unless you're buying direct from a farmer, that lard you're using probably has both a chemical whitener and preservatives to keep it shelf-stable. And you can thank the USDA.

Photo credit: sarah gilbert

All I want for Earth Day is...

Yes, I know, Earth Day isn't traditionally a holiday in which one exchanges gifts. But I'm counting down the days 'til Earth Day like a little kid waiting for Santa Claus. Earth Day in my neighborhood means a seed and plant start exchange at my grocery co-op, a potting station at the farmer's market complete with complementary green bean seeds (just like the Obamas planted in their garden), pots and soil; and limited-edition Victory Garden posters by a local artist. What's more, Seeds of Change is giving away free seed packets at each market throughout April; I've already scored cauliflower and heirloom cannellini bean seeds.

All I want for Earth Day this year is to grow my vegetable garden, and encourage other gardeners, too. All I want for Earth Day is to eat locally-grown, seasonal vegetables and fruits, and inspire others to reduce their food miles. All I want for Earth Day is to choose sustainably-raised meats, and educate my friends and family and far-flung blog readers about the destructive impact of CAFO meats on the environment.

OK, so I want a lot for Earth Day. And I'm preparing by tending my baby tomato and kale seedlings, and sorting through the seeds I saved from my garden last year, in the hopes of spreading some of the seed love and getting some fun varieties in exchange for all my (and my little boys, who love to gather flower seeds) hard work. And with Earth Day coinciding with the average last frost day for my region, I'm getting geared up to plant celery and potatoes and a few other veggies that are scared of the cold. How are you counting down to Earth Day?

Photo credit: sarah gilbert

Our front yard is a total mess. A foot back from the fence and its border of daffodils is a three-foot-deep hole that extends to the sidewalk that encircles the front porch. Passers-by ask, "are you making a pond? A swimming pool?" Nope. We're scooping in wood chips and compost to be a healthy, organic base for the crop of potatoes, carrots and corn we'll plant in a few weeks. We have a big back yard, but there never seems to be enough room for all the crops we'd like to plant.

I should make a yard sign: "As seen on TV." According to CBS News, and my local news too, more and more families are turning their manicured front yards into vegetable producers. CBS calls me "at the forefront of a fast-growing movement in these hard economic times: getting rid of the sacred front lawn and replacing it with the urban farm." Shellie Bailey-Shah from KATU News says we're part of the "lost generation"; our moms and grandmothers had gardens, but we never did.

Until now. A stroll through any neighborhood in Portland will reveal newly-installed raised garden boxes, or an apartment complex's shrubbery that's been torn out to plant lettuces and peas. In the yards of trend-setters, artichokes and sunflowers gone to seed are portents of a bountiful summer ahead. Calling lawns "wasteful, useless spaces," productive urban farmers can produce so much in a small space that they have extra to sell to restaurants and urban locavores. A friend has started a CSA, grown and harvested on a an empty lot in his neighborhood; another business in Portland sells produce from a network of backyards to co-ops, gourmet groceries and restaurant kitchens. Want to get your hands dirty in your own urban farm? Get going with our how-to start a vegetable garden.

Photo credit: sarah gilbert

After my first baby spit out every bit of baby food we tried to feed him in disgust, I started questioning the wisdom of the commercial baby food industry. By my third baby, I watched in amazement as he started munching on carrot greens poking out of the top of a farmer's market bag and decided to go ancient and just feed him whatever he picked out of his own accord (chopped, mushed, or peeled as appropriate). For Monroe, that means anything green, cooked any way; beans by the fingerful; and every kind of berry and stone fruit, bonus points for covering his whole body in the juice. When a friend asked how she should make her own baby food using the organic contents of her CSA box, I excitedly sent her some recipes and recommendations.

The first book I turned to was the Organic Baby & Toddler Cookbook: Easy Recipes for Natural Food. If you're looking for strained peas and dessicated instant oatmeal mush, it's not here. Instead of insisting that you just try one ingredient at a time, the book encourages mixing vegetables and fruits together, in delicious-sounding mashups like carrot, potato, peas and corn (sauté chopped carrot in olive oil; add chopped potatoes, peas, corn, and a little water; simmer for 15 minutes, then puree) and a fruit compote of apple, apricot, dried fig, cinnamon and raisins, simmered for five minutes and pureed. You could adapt several recipes in this book for the vegetables in your CSA box, following the developmental guidelines and tips Lizzie Vann provides.

The second book I recommended was Nourishing Traditions by Sally Fallon. While Fallon certainly doesn't focus on baby food, she has a very dense chapter on feeding babies that reflects her general approach to food (which incorporates Weston A. Price's research on ancient cultures' eating habits). She suggests, for instance, feeding an egg yolk a day to babies, and avoiding grains entirely until the child is one or two years old. Fallon does recommend the "introduce one at a time" approach to adding vegetables and fruits, but suggests parents not add those foods until the baby is 10 months old. She also recommends mashing "carbohydrate foods," including potatoes, carrots, and turnips with butter, and avoid fruit juice entirely.

Using the approaches in these two books, an adventurous cook could adapt any number of recipes from cookbooks that include many simple seasonal vegetable-based recipes. A few I particularly like are Bistro Cooking by Patricia Wells; Fields of Greens by Anne Somerville; and Feeding the Whole Family by Cynthia Lair. After all, the difference between making baby food and making soup is usually only a matter of using a little less cooking liquid and adjusting the spice levels.