Label Local

The creation of organic labeling was controversial, and complicated for the USDA to implement. The effect on farmers has been a mixed bag - opening niche markets, but also creating expense, extra work, and a system that sometimes makes farmers feel like show dogs jumping for approval. Furthermore, finding a certifying organization to provide said approval can often be the most challenging part of the process.

The effect on the average consumer has also been complicated. I didn't know until recently that "100% Organic" was more organic than "Organic" which is more organic than "Made with Organic Ingredients." I just thought they were different marketing strategies or gimmicks.

Still, I think creating local labeling is brilliant, and it would really help me to make smart choices at the market. The local label templates I've seen are more straightforward than the organic model. Of course, that's subject to change after the wringer of organizational bureaucracy, and the gauntlet of capital hill. But some models will avoid these challenges completely.

For example, the familyfarmed.org label will have the regular Price Look-Up (PLU) number, farm location, farm name, and the familyfarmed.org logo & web address. If the consumer is curious enough to visit the website, they will find the story of the farm where their squash, apple, or strawberry was planted, grown, and harvested.

A more universal model has been proposed by the Leopold Center for Sustainability. Their Food Miles Ecolabel would show the number of miles traveled from the farm to the store, source state or country, mode of transport (ex: truck, plane or barge), and categorize the food into one of four environmental impact categories: low, moderate, high, and very high.

These would be extremely helpful labels, but they're complicated, and creating universal implementation would certainly put them through the wringers and gauntlets. As far as I know, the Leopold Center is only referring these labels as a working model of what could be done in the future with more infrastructure - not as a finished product ready for market. They also point out that food miles don't tell the whole story. Some foods consume more energy in their packaging production, or in their storage and preparation than during transport. Personally I can't imagine a label with all of the appropriate information labeled on it. A kumquat labeled with its life cycle analysis would probably resemble a textbook with a fruity center. But for now, any guidance would be appreciated.

Tri-State Locally Grown Conference

Quincy, Illinois is far prettier than I remember from annual visits to see my great grandmother in the nursing home when I was a little girl. When I drove in from highway 24 I thought I was in New Haven, Connecticut for a moment. The similarity was so striking that I actually felt physically disoriented. But those upmarket blocks fade to a city overrun with train tracks, and what appear to be small mining and refining operations. In my mind these things are still very pretty. Maybe it’s the St. Louis girl in me that finds ghostly skeletons of the industrial revolution beautiful.

The Tri-State Locally Grown conference was held at John Wood Community College. Like other conferences I have attended, the lobby was bustling with exchange of information around educational booths, a couple of vendors, and, thankfully, coffee service.

Apple products from Blue Heron Orchard in Canton, Missouri:

I made my rounds, introducing myself to each booth conductor with - I must admit - the selfish underlying motivation that someone out there knows where I can find a paying job in Missouri local food systems. For shame. Okay, that wasn’t the only reason. I came to the conference to learn. I have a lot to learn – and I started in the right place. David from the nonprofit, The Land Connection, told me what programs are in place to establish new small farms, and support existing family farmers through their organization. My brief discussion with David about small farmers set the theme for the conference: small-scale farming is about Stewardship and Autonomy.

Bonus!: David also gave me carrot, pumpkin, and endive seeds.

The opening speech was by Richard Pirog, Associate Director of the Leopold Center for Sustainable Agriculture. He discussed the impact of local and regional agriculture models on global energy consumption and emissions.
My favorite thing about Mr. Pirog was that despite his thorough research in-hand, colleagues at his side, and a confident air, he was humble and open to critique. He acknowledged that data isn’t everything, and, there are some aspects of farm life that can’t be measured with charts and graphs.

For example, studies show that there are fewer emissions when farm food is delivered to customers using a small truck as compared to customers commuting to the farm themselves. However, Mr. Pirog noted that consumers are then unable to see farm, get to know the farmer, the land, and the process. He left the question as to whether this was worth the carbon tradeoff open-ended, and closed with the M. Scott Peck quote, “Through community lies the salvation of the world.”

My first seminar was with Dr. Mary Hendrickson, Rural Sociology professor at the University of Missouri, Columbia. She discussed benefits of local food systems: community, friends, quality and taste of food, local economy, knowledge, adventure, and variety. But the crux was this: “quality of livelihoods.” For most small farmers, money alone doesn’t equal a high quality of life. In fact the thing that draws most new farmers into the field is autonomy. That’s not to say they aren’t constrained by seasons, timing, customer demands, and that storm blowing over the horizon; but most alluring to the farmer is the ability to plan his or her day themselves. No one could have trouble understanding this concept.

There is enormous social capital gained from engaging in local food systems on the part of consumers, lenders, farmers, and community leaders: healthy, happy, independent people; a growing local economy; an attractive and diverse environment, community vitality, partnerships, trust, equity. A community with high social capital can do anything.

I sat rapt through my next two seminars. The first was an intensive crash course in challenges and solutions to urban food access; and the second taught me how to build my own refrigeration storage out of brick and a window air conditioning unit. Rock'n!

The keynote speakers were Alisa Smith and James Mackinnon, authors of "Plenty: One Man, One Woman, and a Raucous Year of Eating Locally," one of my favorite recent reads. I had been kicking myself because I left my copy of the book at home, but I was delighted that registration included a new copy, which I was later able to get signed while moderately embarrassing myself talking to Alisa and James about food access in urban areas.

During his speech, James told a great little story that exemplifies the absurdity of our current food system. He met a carrot farmer from Washington State who could never find his own carrots at the local market. Knowing his carrots were sold in North Carolina, he made a trip to the area, and found that his product was the only type of carrot sold in that market. On his way home, he came across a North Carolinian carrot farm that he recognized from his own market. So, carrots were traveling from Washington to North Carolina, and simultaneously, carrots were traveling from North Carolina for sale in Washington State. Two trucks passing in the night.

James pointed out that while food systems can be complicated; there is a simplicity and transparency to eating locally. Buying locally from small-scale farmers is supporting your local economy, sure, but also supporting other people's dreams of autonomy, and a diverse preserved environment that we can all be proud of. This, I think, is what draws me to the issue. Local food has a significant global impact on the issues of peak oil, climate change, social justice, and human rights, but this issue also has a face. A local face, my farmer's face. And I can talk to my farmer while eating his product. That's so beautiful to me.

This is Ron. He grows tomatoes.

Family Farm

When I hit the road and started west (a counter-intuitive choice for an eventual Illinois destination), the sun was still shining in St. Louis. It was only 3:30 p.m. by the time I was fifty miles outside of the city, but the day had already begun its retirement into dusk. The sky was covered in small bubbles of winter clouds that looked like fire trapped against the ceiling of a room – only blue, not orange, of course. I realized that I had entirely missed my chance to take photos of fall’s brilliant colors, but I wasn’t too disappointed. When I was living in San Francisco, one of the things I missed most about the Midwest was the unsettling sight of bare black tree silhouettes against an evening sky.

I love the three-hour drive from St. Louis to my Uncle’s farm outside of Monroe City, Missouri. I would stay on the farm that night, and then proceed the following morning to the Tri-State (Missouri, Illinois, and Iowa) Locally Grown Conference a few towns away in Quincy, Illinois. The drive to the farm is full of gently rolling farm land, provincial white farmhouses with black trim, grain silos set against colorful skies, and clusters of strong looking black cattle spread across the wilting grass - which is emitting the very last of its subtle sweet fragrance before our first freeze. When St. Charles’ local radio station, The Wood, faded to white noise I knew I was getting close.

I arrived at the familiar house on a hill to a chorus of my Uncle's three dogs, Ginger, Bobby, and Awesome panting and whimpering outside my car door.

Aunt Connie already had piping hot vegetable beef soup, homemade rolls, and ice tea on the table. They’re the only people I know who consistently drink ice tea with every meal throughout the year.

Uncle Tom told me proudly that the soup I was eating was as local as it gets: tomatoes, peppers, onions, carrots, and celery all from his garden, and the beef was from his own stock. He raises beef for châteaubriand steaks, so it was very yummy.

Officially, my Uncle is retired from farming. He now rents his many acres of corn and soy to his neighbors who plant, care for, and harvest the land. Most of his time is spent raising a smallish herd of well-bred cattle, so I was shocked when he told me he had sold all of his cows!

“Oh no!” I said, “I should have taken more pictures.”
“Yup,” Uncle Tom said, “All that’s left now are the bulls, calves, and heifers.”
“Wait, I’m confused.”
“You know what a heifer is don’t you?”
“A female cow?”
“A female bovine that hasn’t yet had any calves.” Uncle Tom gently corrected me.
To my relief he had only been telling me that he sold his childbearing cows. Whew. I don’t like change.

The other farming activity my Uncle still pursues is planting wildlife cover for quail and other small animals. Modern intensive row farming has severely damaged the quail population since the 1970s. There is less untouched land, and less diversity on a farm today. It’s very rare that any corner of a modern farm is left untilled, and the rows are planted very closely together compared to how they were before current farm equipment. Furthermore, many areas that were previously left wild on a farm, like edges next to a fence, are now mowed and kept “neat.” I think this has something to do with keeping up with the Jones'. Wildlife cover is meant to offset these trends. It’s land set aside for the specific purpose of providing feeding, nesting, and cover to a targeted population. My Uncle had met with the Missouri Department of Conservation on the day that I arrived - planning his wildlife plots through 2009. He plants millet, trefoil, clover, and shrubs.

After dinner we talked a bit about my expectations of the Locally Grown conference. Though Uncle Tom wishes there were a future for local food systems, he expressed skepticism that it can be done. He has watched agribusiness and globalization of the market change the attitudes of farmers over the last half-century. Consolidation of small farms, as well as crop consolidation, has completely changed the lifestyle of the farmer. The ones who are still doing it have so many acres that they work from before light until after dark year-round. If they’re not planting or harvesting, they’re hauling and storing. "If a farmer’s not prepared to do that, they’ve probably already left for the towns."

He also told me that he had thought about taking the tomatoes and popcorn from his garden to the Monroe City or Hannibal farmers markets, but he would have to produce them in such large quantities in order to turn a profit that he couldn’t justify it. But the following day at the conference, the folks from the Chicago based nonprofit, The Land Connection, told me that they knew happy hardworking farmers who were making six figures at the farmers markets, and still managed to have a few months off in the winter. It can be done.

Coming soon: Part Two – The Conference

The Double Disappearance

I heard James Mackinnon, co-author of "The 100 Mile Diet: A Year of Local Eating" (or, alternately, "Plenty: One Man, One, Woman, and a Raucous Year of Eating Locally") tell a sad story about the Great Lakes. During the book tour for “Plenty,” a Chicago reporter groused to James that because of it’s proximity to seafood, the author’s home of British Columbia must be an easier and more enjoyable place to eat food produced only within a 100-mile radius of one’s home. James conceded the point, not knowing how to respond positively to his Midwestern interviewer, and leaving them both unsatisfied.

James then went back to his hotel room, opened the drapes, and looked out upon the Great Lakes. A bit of quick internet research revealed that the Great Lakes once had 32 different species commercially fished from its waters. The reporter's inability to remember or acknowledge the Lakes as a food resource is typical of his contemporaries not just in Chicago, but everywhere. Double Disappearance is when you not only loose the source of something great, but when you also loose the collective cultural knowledge that the great thing ever existed in the first place.

This blog is about finding who and what is preventing the double disappearance of our traditional means of food production, as well as valued cultural and community traditions here in the Midwest. It’s also about finding new and creative methods to sustain local food systems – and create greater food access in a city with unique challenges.