Tom Philpott

Tom's Kitchen: Alice Waters' Flatbread With Spicy Split Peas

| Sat Aug. 20, 2011 3:00 AM PDT

When I interviewed Alice Waters recently, she started the interview with a question for me: "Aren't you going to ask me what I had for breakfast?" I think she was probably teasing me. When you're the doyenne of the sustainable food movement and owner/founder of an iconic restaurant like Chez Panisse, I'm sure there's always some journalist wanting to scribble down what you ate for brekkie.

I finally got around to asking her about it, and she gave an alluring answer: Her morning meal had been a whole-wheat flatbread made with just a bit of olive oil, salt, and baking soda. She ate it, she said, with hummus tweaked with Indian spices. "Eating this little breakfast has really made me very happy," she declared.

I wondered if eating something similar might do the same for me, so I asked Alice for the recipe, and she kindly obliged. I whipped some up for the Maverick Farms crew recently, along with Indian-spiced yellow split peas. And guess what? It made us all really happy too. Soon I'll try it for breakfast.

Alice Waters' Whole-Wheat Flatbreads
Makes 10
2 cups organic whole-wheat flour
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
3/4 cup warm water
3 tablespoons organic olive oil

Combine the flour, salt, and baking powder in a medium-sized bowl. Using a fork, slowly stir in half of the water. Add the olive oil and then the rest of the water, stirring continuously to incorporate the wet ingredients. Start to pull the dough into a ball with your hands, adding a little bit more water if necessary, to form a moist dough. Knead the dough for 30 seconds, then cover with a towel and let rest 15 minutes. Form dough into 1 1/4 inch balls. Using a rolling pin, roll balls into a long oval shape. Preheat a 10-inch cast-iron pan on the stove at medium heat. When the pan is warm, cook two flatbreads at a time, turning over when the bubbles start to lightly brown. As you cook the rest of the batch, let the cooked flatbreads rest under a towel. The cooked flatbreads can be kept in the fridge up to one week. Before serving, reheat them individually over an open flame on the stove to toast them. Serve immediately.

Curried Yellow Split Peas
2 tablespoons butter
2 small onions, halved lengthwise and sliced thinly
1/2 teaspoon each black mustard seeds, turmeric, ground cinnamon, and ground cardamom
2-4 cloves garlic, chopped fine (I use four)
1 hot green chili, minced
A knuckle-sized knob of ginger, peeled and chopped fine
1 1/2 cups yellow split peas, rinsed and picked over for rocks, then drained
4 1/2 cups water
Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste
A handful of chopped cilantro or parsley

In a medium-sized heavy-bottomed pot, heat butter over medium-low heat. When the butter has melted and its foam has subsided, add the sliced onion. Turn heat to a gentle medium. Now add the spices. Cook, stirring often, until onions soften. Stir in the garlic, ginger, and chili. Let it cook another minute and add the split peas. Stir to coat with onions. Add the water, bring to a boil over high heat, turn heat to lowest setting and cover. They'll cook in 40-50 minutes. Check occasionally to make sure they're not drying out; if so, add some hot water. When they're done, they should be very soft—a kind of rough paste. Taste, and add a half teaspoon of salt and a generous grinding of pepper. Then taste again. Correct for salt, and serve.

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USDA Scientist: Monsanto's Roundup Herbicide Damages Soil

| Fri Aug. 19, 2011 3:00 AM PDT

August hasn't been a happy month the for the Monsanto public-relations team. No, I'm not referring to my posts on how Gaza and Mexico don't need the company's high-tech seeds—the ones it will supposedly be "feeding the world" with in the not-so-distant future.

Monsanto's real PR headache involves one of its flagship products very much in the here and now: the herbicide Roundup (chemical name: glyphosate), upon which Monsanto has built a highly profitable empire of "Roundup Ready" genetically modified seeds.

The problem goes beyond the "superweed" phenomenon that I've written about recently: the fact that farmers are using so much Roundup, on so much acreage, that weeds are developing resistance to it, forcing farmers to resort to highly toxic "pesticide cocktails."

What Roundup is doing aboveground may be a stroll through the meadow compared to its effect below. According to USDA scientist Robert Kremer, who spoke at a conference last week, Roundup may also be damaging soil—a sobering thought, given that it's applied to hundreds of millions of acres of prime farmland in the United States and South America. Here's a Reuters account of Kremer's presentation:

The heavy use of Monsanto's Roundup herbicide appears to be causing harmful changes in soil and potentially hindering yields of the genetically modified crops that farmers are cultivating, a US government scientist said on Friday. Repeated use of the chemical glyphosate, the key ingredient in Roundup herbicide, impacts the root structure of plants, and 15 years of research indicates that the chemical could be causing fungal root disease, said Bob Kremer, a microbiologist with the US Department of Agriculture's Agricultural Research Service.

Now, Kremer has been raising these concerns for a couple of years now—and as Tom Laskaway showed in this 2010 Grist article, the USDA has been downplaying them for just as long. Laskaway asked Kremer's boss at the Agricultural Research Service, Michael Shannon, to comment on Kremer's research. According to Laskaway, Shannon "admitted that Kremer’s results are valid, but said that the danger they represent pales in comparison to the superweed threat."

Mexico Doesn't Need Monsanto's Wonder Seeds, Either

| Thu Aug. 18, 2011 4:28 AM PDT
A corn field in Sonora, Mexico

As I wrote a few days ago, Monsanto has been publicly flaunting its effort to develop high-tech patented seeds to "feed the world" amid climate change and resource scarcity. These wonder seeds, designed to grow in hot, dry conditions, are just around the corner, Monsanto says. And without them, millions will starve, the company implies.

Meanwhile, people in Gaza, already facing a hot, water-scarce climate, are turning to organic agriculture to feed themselves. And it seems to be working. "Gaza doesn't need Monsanto's wonder seeds," I concluded in my post.

Well, it turns out that Mexico doesn't either. A study (abstract; I ponied up $10 to rent the full paper for two days—so much for public research) recently published in the Proceedings of the National Academies of Science (PNAS) look at small-holder farmer communities in throughout Eastern Mexico, in variety of micro-climates, from highlands to lowlands.

Mexico, of course, was the original site of the green revolution—the effort, starting in the 1940s and funded by US foundations to bring the wonders of "modern" chemical agriculture to the global south. (See my review of Nick Cullather's recent history of the green revolution, The Hungry World). But the green revolution only really took root in the the flatlands of northern Mexico; the parts of the country covered by the study have remained largely in the hands of smallholders practicing traditional agriculture.

Here's how the researchers describe the communities they studied:

The small-scale maize farmers in this study include both indigenous and Mestizo [of mixed European and indigenous  heritage] households. They have diversified livelihoods, producing multiple crops, fruit trees, and domesticated animals both for self-consumption and for the market. Farmers also engage in nonfarm activities. Maize, however, continues to play a key role in their livelihoods, having multiple uses, both for consumption and sale.

While Monsanto and a a few larger companies dominate the seed market for US corn farmers, the company has no traction at all in southern Mexico. The authors describe how the farmers they studied get their seeds:

[Most seeds are] saved from their own farms. Seed obtained from outside the farm  accounts for less than a third of seed in any of the agro-climate environments, and most of this seed is obtained from the farmers’ social network of family, neighbors, and friends. Only a minority of seed sourced off-farm comes from stores, the government, or strangers. The role of the formal seed system, therefore, is minimal, even though there have been government programs to disseminate improved seed.

The researchers hypothesized that such "traditional maize seed systems" would fail under standard models of climate change—that the farmers wouldn't have access to seeds adapted to changing conditions, and would face either chronic crop failure or the prospect of having to go outside of their networks to buy seeds—for example, to Monsanto and its wonder seeds.

Instead, what they found in modeling for climate change was that there is so much genetic diversity among the corn varieties available to these farmers within their own communities that they will likely be able to adapt just fine to climate change without outside help.

To put it another way, while Monsanto spends billions of dollars trying to develop and market climate-ready wonder seeds, these farmers have already developed sufficient genetic diversity within their farming systems that they don't need Monsanto's wonder seeds. The only exception is high-altitude areas, but these regions, too, could get the seeds they need from within national borders, and won't likely need to tap the global seed market. The authors conclude that:

Maize landraces in Mexico show remarkable diversity and climatic adaptability, growing in environments ranging from arid to humid and from temperate to very hot. This diversity raises the possibility that Mexico already has maize germplasm suitable for predicted environments, i.e., that there are current analogs in the country for the ‘"novel" crop climates predicted by 2050.

Now, one might be tempted to discount this conclusion if it came, say,  from some hippie ecologist at UC Santa Cruz. But one of the study's authors hails from the UN's Food and Agriculture; and another works at International Maize and Wheat Improvement Center (CIMMYT). The CIMMYT was founded in Mexico by Norman Borlaug—founder of the green revolution.
 

Beer Charts of the Day

| Wed Aug. 17, 2011 3:00 AM PDT

When an earthling declares—in no matter what language—"Let's grab a beer," there's a good chance that creature will soon be sitting down to a cold one made by either Anheuser-Busch InBev or SABMiller. Together, these two global entities produce about a third of the beer consumed on the planet.

Here in the United States, their dominance is even greater. How great?

As a jaded observer of the US food scene, I'm accustomed to finding evidence of intense corporate control. Consider that just four giant companies process 60 percent of the 9 billion chickens raised for slaughter in the United States each year, and that just three companies slaughter and pack nearly 80 percent of cows raised here. I've written about how these arrangements are robustly profitable for the participating companies—and pretty awful for everyone else.

But even I'm shocked by the corporatization of beer. Anheuser-Busch InBev and SABMiller produce 80 percent of the beer consumed here. That's four of every five brews. And almost all of them suck!

Yet the US beer industry is paradoxical. Even as these giants have lurched their way to market domination, we've seen an explosion of excellent local and regional brewers. And the United States, home of such swill as Bud Light and Coors Extra Gold, has emerged as the global standard-bearer for beer innovation and, yes, quality.

Here are two graphics that depict both sides of our paradox. The first one is from Phil Howard, a Michigan State professor who tracks corporate consolidation. It illustrates the dizzying variety of brands controlled by our beer overlords. (For a more readable interactive version, go here).

Our second chart tracks the number of beer-brewing facilities in the United States since the 1890s.

 

Note that breweries plunged to zero in 1930, in honor of that ignoble experiment, Prohibition, and then recovered for a few years after. But then the number peaks in 1936 and steadily declines to fewer than 50 gigantic breweries by 1980. This is the period when big brewers like Anheuser-Busch and Miller were taking over the market, shuttering smaller facilities.

But then the curve takes an utterly unexpected turn and begins to move back up. Today we have 1,759 brewing facilities—more than the pre-Prohibition high of 1,751. What happened? People got sick of corporate swill and started brewing their own. Some of them got really good at it and started small breweries. The circle of people who enjoy a good beer widened, drawing more good brewers in. And so on.

Update: The blog Balloon Juice adds a key detail to the narrative (and alerted me to the nifty chart above, which I have dropped in in place of the more basic one in the original version of this post):

When prohibition was lifted, government tightly regulated the market, and small scale producers were essentially shut out of the beer market altogether. Regulations imposed at the time greatly benefited the large beer makers. In 1979, President Carter deregulated the beer industry, opening the market back up to craft brewers.

Well, what Carter actually did was deregulate the home-brew market—he made it legal to sell malt, hops, and yeast to home brewers. That, I believe as a significant move, because the US craft-beer industry was largely started by enthusiastic home brewers who went pro.

At any rate, the explosion in popularity for real beer has been noted been by the giants, which is precisely why they can longer just peddle name brands like Bud and Miller but also have to roll out phony craft beers like Anheuser-Busch's inglorious "Shock Top" line. And as people consume less flagship swill like Bud and Miller, the companies have responded by desperately buying up smaller regional brands in hopes of keeping as many consumers as possible. Hence the rapid consolidation.

And the need to try to satisfy the rising desire for variety and quality is costing them money. The beer market is "stubbornly diverse," leading to a "high degree of localization," an SABMiller exec recently complained to Bloomberg. This factor makes it "hard to drive real scale benefit" across the group's marketing operations, he added.

Translated, the exec is saying it would be more profitable to just churn out lots of Miller, but those annoying drinkers out there demand at least the illusion of choice, so his firm has to maintain a dizzying number of brands.

What all of this is telling me is that corporations control plenty, but they don't control everything. Their dominance of US beer is a mile wide but paper thin. Grassroots energy and desire rescued beer from true corporate domination starting in 1980. The same can happen in other areas of the food system.

Warren Buffett's Son Is Super-Wrong About Africa

| Tue Aug. 16, 2011 3:00 AM PDT
Howard Buffett, center, and Dr. Ed Price, right, director of the Norman Borlaug Institute for International Agriculture, examine crops in Afghanistan.

My post on the organic-farming surge in Gaza got me thinking about ag-development policy—and how what's happening in occupied Palestine goes against the grain, so to speak, of most efforts to bolster farming is distressed areas.

Responding to immediate needs for food in a place where water is scarce, agrichemicals are hard to come by, and trade is severely limited, aid agencies and local policymakers in Gaza are urging farmers to grow food for themselves and their neighbors to eat using water-efficient, low-input techniques. And what they're growing isn't industrial crops like corn and soy, which need to be subjected to heavy processing before they can be eaten, but rather nutrient-dense, ready-to-consume fruit, vegetables, and fish.

How different is this setup from the norm? An example recently crossed my desk in the form of this Huffington Post item by Howard Buffett, son of gazillionaire Warren. Now, Buffet the younger is not your standard trust fund baby. According to his bio, he owns and operates a 1,240-acre corn-and-soy farm in Illinois and manages another 400-acre farm in Nebraska. His farming efforts have netted him ample federal crop subsidies over the years. In the early 1990s, he worked as an executive and board member for grain-trading and processing giant Archer Daniels Midland. He recently joined the board of directors at Coca-Cola.

Why Gaza Doesn't Need Monsanto's Wonder Seeds

| Mon Aug. 15, 2011 3:07 AM PDT
A roof-top vegetable garden in Gaza.

Climatewire recently ran a rather tedious article rehashing Monsanto’s familiar talking points, on the occasion of a media conference put on by the GMO seed/agrichemical giant. Here's a sample:

The company's pipeline is teeming with seeds aimed to protect farmers from losses due to pests, heat, drought and nutrient deficiencies. Nitrogen-efficient corn is expected in the next three to 10 years, as are high-yielding soybeans.

These Wonder Seeds of the Future are vital, the company insists, because (as the Climatewire reporter puts it) "The world will need to double its crop output to satisfy 9 billion people on just a sliver more of available land." According to its marketing pitch, Monsanto will solve that problem by conjuring up seeds that allow farmers to "produce more, conserve more, [and] improve lives."

While contemplating the Cilmatewire piece—which was, to be fair, balanced by withering analysis from Union of Concerned of Scientists' Doug Gurian-Sherman—I got to to thinking about a Guardian article I read a while back on how people are scraping by in the Gaza Strip under the twin hardships of occupation and blockade.

Under siege from Israel, Palestinian farmers in Gaza have limited land, little access to water, and face ruinously high fertilizer costs (when they can get fertilizer at all): In other words, the very conditions Monsanto claims its seeds will save the world from. But these farmers don't have access to the wonder seeds, partly because they don't exist yet (Gurian-Sherman is skeptical that they ever will); and partly because Palestinian farmers don't have the resources to buy pricey patented seeds anyway. (How farmers resource-strapped farmers are ever supposed to afford Monsanto's premium-priced super-seeds—if and when they do come into existence—has never really been explained.)

So what are Palestinian farmers doing? According to The Guardian, they're turning to a technology that has been proven to conserve water, recycle crop nutrients, and generate robust yields: diversified organic agriculture. The newspaper quotes an official from the UN's Gaza emergency food program:

In so many other places, this is terribly trendy and green. But in Gaza the resource scarcity is so bad this is actually becoming a necessity.

Where organic ag has taken root, The Guardian reports, food security has been bolstered and dependence on food aid for survival has decreased. The UN is pushing organic ag as a response to resource scarcity, and last year Hamas government rolled out a a 10-year strategy "aimed at skirting the blockade and developing sustainable agriculture," The Guardian reports.

Already, concrete steps are being made. According to The Guardian, Palestinian farmers are barred by the blockade from buying synthetic nitrogen fertilizer, which could be used to make explosives. All they have access from the import market is "fertilisers made from Israeli waste water run-off," which is expensive—$200 per metric ton—and of "uncertain safety." But a local initiative called Palestinian Environmental Friends (PEF) is generating a homegrown fertilizer from manure and crop waste collected from local farms. It costs just $100 per metric ton to make, and profits from it stay within Gaza.

Farms are also solving the fertilizer problem by setting up closed-loop aquaculture/crop systems that recycle nutrients and generate bounties of food:

In a rural area of the central Gaza Strip, Eyad Najjar plucks organic carrots from the sandy soil of his tiny farm. Najjar no longer uses fertilisers or pesticides for his plot, which also grows tomatoes, parsley, rocket, lettuce and spinach. Instead, a fishpond on the field's far edge delivers water rich in nutrients via drip irrigation.

Smiling, Najjar squeezes an almost-ripe fruit hanging from the branch of a lemon tree. "The onions and lemons are bigger and better," he says.

Now, Gaza's push for organic ag as a response to severe resource challenges hardly settles the question of how to "feed the world" going forward. The effort is too new, and the results remain anecdotal. But it's entirely consistent with the emerging consensus among development experts that low-input, locally adapted appropriate technologies, not expensive high-tech solutions from the likes of Monsanto, are key to feeding ourselves amid population grown and resource depletion. And it surely contradicts the old agribusiness claim, recently parroted by The Economist, that organic food is a "luxury of the rich."
 

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Tom's Kitchen: the Simplest, and Best, Tomato Snack

| Fri Aug. 12, 2011 5:37 PM PDT
Add olive oil and sea salt, and you've got the elements of perhaps the greatest of all tomato snacks.

In Les Blank's Garlic Is As Good As Ten Mothers (1980)—maybe the greatest food documentary ever—Blank gets the celebrated flamenco guitarist Anzonini del Puerto to describe the importance of garlic in his native Spain.

Del Puerto responds (video clip below) that there was very little to eat at the end of the Spanish Civil War; very little, that is, except garlic, tomatoes, and "muy, muy poco" (a very, very little) bread. They would often combine these ingredients into a simple sandwich of sliced tomatoes, sliced garlic, salt and olive oil. He goes on to demonstrate.

Over the past few years during tomato season at Maverick Farms, I've become addicted to the Catalan variation of Spain's tomato sandwich, an open-faced version that's even simpler than del Puerto's. I suggest cranking out a few of these with flamenco music thundering in the background, such as the song del Puerto belts out after his sandwich demo in the below video.

This recipe makes a fabulous snack before a light summer dinner; or anytime you come in from the heat during the tomato season. What to drink with it? You can't go wrong with a dry, well-chilled rosé.

Catalan-Style Tomato Bread

A loaf of good, crusty bread (I've been making my own using the no-knead method popularized by Mark Bittman a few years ago)
A clove of garlic, crushed and peeled
The best, juiciest tomato you can get your hands on
Extra virgin olive oil
Sea salt
Freshly ground black pepper

Slice off a piece of bread about a half-inch thick and toast it lightly. A toaster works; for extra brilliance, toast it over a hot grill, taking care it doesn't burn. Now take the crushed garlic clove and rub it all over the bread's surface. If the bread is properly toasted and crispy, it will pick up highly flavorful juice and particles from the garlic. Now slice the stem top off of the tomato and vigorously rub the cut side against the bread. The bread will absorb juice and particles from the tomato, becoming quite soggy. Now give it a drizzle of olive oil, and sprinkle it liberally with salt and pepper. Serve immediately. Repeat as necessary. Prepare for addiction. After a while of cranking these treats out, you'll be holding a a ravaged swath of empty tomato skin in your hand. Time to cut open another.

How to Avoid Salmonella Superbugs in the First Place

| Thu Aug. 11, 2011 11:16 AM PDT
Here's how not to avoid salmonella superbugs.

I've been writing a bit recently about the problem of antibiotic-resistant pathogens on factory animal farms, which are emerging as a lethal—and expensive—public-health threat.

The two major regulatory agencies that have a say in the matter—the USDA and the FDA—have acknowledged the severity of the problem, as has our main public-health-monitoring outfit, the CDC.  Even the Government Accounting Office (GAO) has gotten into the act! None of this has led the federal government to actually crack down on the practice of feeding animals daily subtherapeutic doses of antibiotics.

Judging from the inaction, you'd think there's simply no alternative to antibiotics as an integral part of livestock feed—and resistant bacteria as an inevitable product of meat factories, along with all the pork chops and chicken wings.

Turns out though, there is an alternative: Just ban antibiotics on farms, and force producers to adopt organic standards. In a study just published in Environmental Health Perspectives, a team of researchers looked at 20 large-scale chicken facilities—10 conventional, and 10 that had recently converted to organic standards, which include a ban on antibiotics. The result: The organic facilities had sharply lower presence of drug-resistant bacteria.

Here's how lead researcher Amy Sapkota of the University of Maryland School of Public Health described the findings in an interview with the Washington Post:

We initially hypothesized that we would see some differences in on-farm levels of antibiotic-resistant enterococci when poultry farms transitioned to organic practices...But we were surprised to see that the differences were so significant across several different classes of antibiotics even in the very first flock that was produced after the transition to organic standards. [Emphasis mine.] 

Berkeley and Oakland Come to the Table

| Thu Aug. 11, 2011 3:00 AM PDT
Nikki Henderson of Oakland's People's Grocery and Alice Waters of Berkeley's Chez Panisse Restaurant

Alice Waters and Nikki Henderson occupy radically different places in the sustainable food movement.

Waters is a white baby boomer who was raised comfortably middle class; Henderson is an African American millennial who grew up with seven foster brothers. Waters runs an iconic white-tablecloth restaurant in well-heeled Berkeley. Henderson runs an iconic anti-poverty nonprofit in low-income West Oakland. Waters speaks most naturally as an aesthete; Henderson, as a community organizer.

The fact that a single movement can contain both demonstrates its great potential—think of the civil rights movement, which really began to coalesce when an alliance along similar race/class lines developed in the late 1950s. But it also indicates crucial fault lines: If the food movement becomes dominated by its white-tablecloth faction, it risks devolving into a high-end tasting club that has little impact on the broader culture.

So when I was invited to interview these two formidable women via Skype recently, I jumped at the chance. The occasion was a class Waters has organized at UC Berkeley this fall called "Edible Education 101," as part of the 40th-anniversary celebration for Chez Panisse, her temple to local, organic food. Henderson, executive director of People’s Grocery, will be coteaching the course with Berkeley journalism professor Michael Pollan, author of The Omnivore's Dilemma and other best-selling critiques of the food system. They spoke to me from the Chez Panisse Foundation's Berkeley offices.

Alice Waters: Aren't you going to ask me what I had for breakfast?

Mother Jones: We all know you had an Egg McMuffin. We'll talk about that later! [Laughs.] Let’s start with a hard question. The last time I remember Chez Panisse and People's Grocery interacting was in 2008, when People's Grocery's then-executive director Brahm Ahmadi launched a stinging critique of Slow Food Nation, which Alice organized. He charged that Slow Food threatened to "suck the air" out of the food movement, marginalizing low-income people of color. Now, here the two of you are together. What gives?

Nikki Henderson: Something else that happened at Slow Food Nation is that Van Jones and Alice Waters were on stage together for a panel. And at that point I was working for Van as his aide, and I was the one who kind of prepped him for that panel.

The Deal With $8 Eggs

| Tue Aug. 9, 2011 5:54 PM PDT

Over on the Atlantic site, the food politics writer Jane Black has a thoughtful post on farmers market sticker shock in brownstone Brooklyn.

Confronted at her neigborhood market by the spectacle of $8/dozen eggs—which had sold out, no less—Black frets that "that the 'good-food-costs-more' argument is being taken to an extreme that puts at risk the goal of a mass food-reform movement, which is to make good food available to the greatest number of people possible."

Black goes on to do a bit of analysis on the $8/dozen farmer’s production model and reckons that he probably isn't just sticking it to Brooklyn yuppies: "It turns out that's what it costs him to produce his eggs," because he uses a labor-intensive pasture-based system and feeds his birds organic corn, which is much more expensive than conventional.