Local Food | Civil Eats https://civileats.com/category/food-and-policy/local-food/ Daily News and Commentary About the American Food System Wed, 02 Oct 2024 23:12:23 +0000 en-US hourly 1 Good Goats Make Good Neighbors https://civileats.com/2024/10/02/good-goats-make-good-neighbors/ https://civileats.com/2024/10/02/good-goats-make-good-neighbors/#respond Wed, 02 Oct 2024 09:00:39 +0000 https://civileats.com/?p=58056 Along with his fellow herd members, all employed by the nonprofit Happy Goat to reduce wildfire risks, Ricky Bobby is doing what he does best, gobbling up weeds, shrubs, and leaves from low-hanging branches. No plant appears to be too much of a challenge, including poison oak and spiky live-oak leaves. He and 100 caprine teammates […]

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On a sunny California day, Ricky Bobby the goat chomps across a hillside with the speed and pizazz of his NASCAR driver namesake from Talladega Nights.

Along with his fellow herd members, all employed by the nonprofit Happy Goat to reduce wildfire risks, Ricky Bobby is doing what he does best, gobbling up weeds, shrubs, and leaves from low-hanging branches. No plant appears to be too much of a challenge, including poison oak and spiky live-oak leaves. He and 100 caprine teammates can clear about an acre a day.

“I really think that this is a hope of the future—organizations like them who really care about the environment, who care about the welfare of the Earth, who care about the climate and the quality of life for people,” says Carole Beckham, who hired Happy Goat to graze a portion of her 23-acre residential property in the Sierra Nevada. “With all the big fires we’ve had over the last several years, it’s really impacted the quality of life for a lot of people. It seems like Mariposa County has been in PTSD every year.”

a greyish goat looks up toward the sky and smells a branch

A goat nips on a branch on a hillside property outside of Mariposa. The goats are part of Happy Goat of Mariposa, California which provides the vegetation-clearing creatures to landowners to reduce wildfire risk. Photo by Craig Kohlruss.

Founded in 2020, Happy Goat farm sits on a 2,000-acre property in Mariposa County, near Yosemite National Park. The organization’s Goats for Good program leases out its grazing herd to nearby landowners in the Sierra Nevada at a reduced price, and hopes to make the service free of charge for some residents via a lottery. The farm also teaches local students about agriculture and conservation—and donates much of the fruits and vegetables it grows to people in need.

“It’s a crazy twisted road that I went down that ended up here in this magical place,” says John Cahalin, one of three Happy Goat co-founders (and the one who named Ricky Bobby).

Ricky Bobby is doing what he does best, gobbling up weeds, shrubs, and leaves from low-hanging branches.

The San Diego transplant came to Mariposa several years ago in search of land for an off-road vehicle rally school, but his vision for the property changed after he met Jesse Fouch, a sixth-generation farmer, rancher, and owner of Fouch Farms. As Cahalin learned more about his new home, he decided farming was a better fit—something intrinsic to Mariposa and good for tourists, too. Fouch joined him as one of three co-founders of Happy Goat.

Cahalin wanted goats to be a big part of the farm. “Goats are mischievous, they’re affectionate, and they’re just the most beautiful animals to me,” Cahalin says. “They make me laugh every time I see my favorite ones.”

A farmer wearing an orange gap smiles as he holds a small black goat

Happy Goat co-founder John Cahalin holds a baby goat on the nonprofit’s farm in the Sierra Nevada foothill community of Mariposa. Photo by Craig Kohlruss.

Lacey Sharp, Happy Goat’s daily operations manager, among other things, launched the organization’s Goats for Good grazing program over a year and a half ago, and since then, the goats have cleared more than 40 properties in the Mariposa area. That amounts to approximately 200 acres in addition to the 220 acres the goats take on each year back at the farm.

Sharp runs a holistic program that puts the health of all involved—the animals, the landscape, and the humans seeking fewer wildfire risks—at the center of every decision. The goats spend a limited amount of time in each section of a property, managed by a moveable fence and the watchful eyes of a couple of shepherds and dogs. Sharp is careful not to let the goats overgraze, which can compact soil.

“We’re very in tune with the climate around us and the land we’re working on,” she says. Sharp is also a veterinary technician, and runs a small cattle business influenced by the Texas ranch where she grew up.

a woman touches a black goat in the grasslands

Happy Goat grazing director Lacey Sharp pets Ricky Bobby, one of the many goats that Happy Goat uses for Sierra foothill wildfire mitigation. Photo by Craig Kohlruss.

The nonprofit has around 450 goats—primarily the cashmere type—with plans to grow the herd to nearly 3,000. About 100 billy goats currently handle the grazing contracts, while the nannies grow the herd back at the farm. Their kids enjoy a happy youth that includes scrambling all over a massive jungle gym called the “Goatnasium.”

The goats are part of a growing trend of using livestock to mitigate wildfire risks across the West. That need is acute in California’s Sierra region, where catastrophic fire presents an unprecedented challenge. More than 880,000 people live in this mountainous stretch of the state, according to the California Wildfire & Forest Resilience Task Force.

Mariposa County, where 16 percent of the population lives below the poverty line, is still recovering from the particularly devastating Oak Fire, an arson-caused blaze that leveled 127 homes and 66 outbuildings in 2022. In July, a new threat, the 908-acre French Fire—caused by a lawn mower that ignited dry grass—burned dangerously close to Mariposa’s historic main street and destroyed or damaged 18 structures.

The use of goats for targeted grazing is becoming more popular statewide as it is consistent with increasing the protection of people, structures, and communities

“The use of goats for targeted grazing is becoming more popular statewide as it is consistent with increasing the protection of people, structures, and communities,” says Kara Garrett, coordinator of Cal Fire’s Community Risk Reduction Program. “Many have found grazing to be an effective tool. Not only do [the goats] help clear annual vegetation, but they also browse up trees and reduce fuel loads, helping property owners with their fuel reduction.”

Cal Fire doesn’t hold contracts specifically for grazing, Garrett says, but 18 of the Wildfire Prevention Grants it awarded for 2022-2023 went to projects that included grazing. “Lawn mowers, weed eaters, chainsaws, tractors, and trimmers can all spark a wildland fire if used during the wrong time of year,” Garrett says. “And with work still left to be done across California, the grazing goats are a safe alternative to help maintain vegetation.”

several smiling people giving feed to goats

Happy Goat co-founder John Cahalin, in lime green, tosses out feed to a mob of goats as they climb over him and some fellow Happy Goat supporters during a break in the daily work effort. Photo by Craig Kohlruss.

Nearly a third of all acres treated in fuel-reduction projects by the Bureau of Land Management (BLM) in California utilize grazing, which includes goats, says Sarah Denos, a spokesperson for the BLM in California. Acres grazed for fire mitigation through the agency more than doubled between 2018 and 2022, Denos says. BLM data shows a spike from about 5,400 acres in the state to 18,000 acres during that period.

Goats can be used in lieu of herbicides to target invasive plants in a way that helps restore balance to the ecosystem, including by adding nutrients back to the soil through their waste, Denos says. Additionally, goats can navigate steep, rugged terrain where machines aren’t practical, she adds.

There are drawbacks, of course. A herd of goats, if not properly monitored, can mow through a lot of land, eating up everything.

But if they’re well guided, goats can also be an appropriate tool in locations requiring a “lighter touch,” such as sensitive cultural sites, says Mark Thibideau, a spokesperson for the U.S. Forest Service Pacific Southwest Region. Beyond general grazing permits, which the Forest Service has issued since its inception, Thibideau says that last year his region used livestock to graze 4,544 acres specifically to mitigate wildfire.

In rural Mariposa County, where many large, historic ranches have been replaced by smaller residential parcels that can easily get overgrown, Happy Goat provides help. Goats’ love of leaves means they create extra clearance between the ground and low-hanging branches, which helps prevent fire from jumping into the tree canopy. Happy Goat’s humans also assist by doing some pruning to ensure that clearance extends to six vertical feet.

Other goat operations in California include those led by the Ojai Valley Fire Safe Council, City Grazing in San Francisco, and numerous Sonoma County grazing cooperatives. “They’re more sustainable—they have less impact to the environment,” one Southern California Edison worker told The Fresno Bee about using goats from Chasin Goat Grazing for vegetation management beneath power lines in the Sierra. “And from a sociological perspective, people can get behind goats.” A free, online search tool and map called match.graze, launched by the University of California Cooperative Extension and previously reported on by Civil Eats, displays many more California herds for hire.

“In California every year, everyone gets nervous for wildfire season, and rightfully so,” says entrepreneur Willie Morris, the third Happy Goat co-founder. “But the fact that we can take goats—which to me are like such silly, funny creatures—and they can be the frontline of fire prevention, and they can get to places we could never really do with machinery, to me, it’s just a no-brainer.”

a woman farmer wearing a baseball cap stands inside a greenhouse

Jessica Segale talks about her work as Happy Goat’s greenhouse manager and produce grown on their regenerative farm in the Sierra Nevada foothill community of Mariposa, California. Segale is also director of Happy Goat’s farm-to-school program. Photo by Craig Kohlruss.

Grazing is just one of the programs that makes Happy Goat a boon to its community.

Happy Goat’s farm-to-school program connected with around 1,400 students last year from several local schools, supported by federal and state grants, for hands-on learning experiences in agriculture and conservation. That outreach continues, and the farm recently became a new contracted provider of produce for Mariposa County Unified School District. Happy Goat also helps recycle food waste from local school cafeterias, using it to create compost for small school gardens and its farm.

Meanwhile, Happy Goat is working toward regenerative farm certification from the Savory Institute, a nonprofit focused on restoring grasslands through holistic management. “We’re building topsoil, we’re sequestering carbon, we’re improving the forage, the trees, the grasses,” says Fouch, who designed the farm and is also an associate educator with the Savory Institute. “We monitor insect populations, the birds, the bees—everything.”

Goats can be used in lieu of herbicides to target invasive plants in a way that helps restore balance to the ecosystem, including by adding nutrients back to the soil through their waste.

The farm grows a wide variety of fruits and vegetables by intercropping them, choosing varieties that are “happy around each other,” says Jessica Segale, director of its farm-to-school program. This classic organic farming technique promotes biodiversity and can also reduce pests. Also, plants are sprayed with natural compost extracts instead of harmful chemicals.

Happy Goat donates much of its produce to food banks. It gave away 4,400 pounds of produce last year—more than a third of all it grew—and plans to double that number. Beyond goats, other animals on its farm include chickens for eggs, sheep, pigs, ducks, guineafowl, and a goose. None are used for meat.

The organization also has a goat therapy program that provides stress relief for humans—including some college students who got to enjoy the animals at the University of California, Merced, campus during finals week.

Funding for Happy Goat’s philanthropic efforts comes from related enterprises, like its for-profit diner, Happy Goat Farm to Table, which opened last fall in the town of Mariposa just down the road. Happy Goat was also awarded a rural development grant from the United States Department of Agriculture last year to research the feasibility of using the goats’ hair for cashmere production, which is limited in the United States.

a shingle roofed restaurant names

Happy Goat Farm to Table diner in downtown Mariposa offers meals with ingredients from the nearby Happy Goat farm. The for-profit diner opened in the fall of 2023 and its proceeds support the work of nonprofit Happy Goat. Photo by Craig Kohlruss.

Happy Goat intends to keep growing, all with the help of Ricky Bobby and the rest of the goats.

“They have limitless land to range on.” Sharp says. “They never run out of feed. They are not put into a holding pen where they spend 24/7 on a dry lot. We literally use them for what they were created for, and that’s what makes them so happy—and it’s what makes us happy.”

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]]> https://civileats.com/2024/10/02/good-goats-make-good-neighbors/feed/ 0 The Case for Seafood Self-Reliance https://civileats.com/2024/10/01/the-case-for-seafood-self-reliance/ https://civileats.com/2024/10/01/the-case-for-seafood-self-reliance/#respond Tue, 01 Oct 2024 09:00:45 +0000 https://civileats.com/?p=57867 The U.S. is the world’s second-largest seafood importer, despite the fact that U.S. fishers catch 8 billion pounds of seafood each year. Much of the fish landed here is eaten elsewhere. That conundrum makes it harder for American fishermen to sustain their operations and forces fish to be shipped thousands of miles before it reaches […]

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Scan the seafood case at your local grocery store and you’re likely to see the same staples, no matter where you are: shrimp, salmon, tuna, tilapia, cod. Most of it crossed international borders to reach you.

The U.S. is the world’s second-largest seafood importer, despite the fact that U.S. fishers catch 8 billion pounds of seafood each year. Much of the fish landed here is eaten elsewhere. That conundrum makes it harder for American fishermen to sustain their operations and forces fish to be shipped thousands of miles before it reaches the dinner table. Climate change and global crises disrupting the international market only add to the complications.

“It’s not a law of gravity that 90 percent of the seafood we consume in the U.S. has to be imported.”

Fisheries would be healthier and more sustainable if fish caught locally were consumed locally. But the discrepancy is by design, says Joshua Stoll, associate professor at the University of Maine and founder of Local Catch Network, a hub of seafood harvesters, businesses, researchers, and organizers that supports the growth of community-based seafood.

“We’ve built roads around the world that don’t have exit ramps to our local communities when it comes to seafood,” Stoll says.

A healthier system more reflective of the diversity of U.S. seafood is attainable, Stoll says, if we invest in connecting harvesters and consumers at the regional level. In a paper published in Nature in June, he and his colleagues found that seafood independence—the ability to meet the country’s consumption needs through its own production—is “within reach” for the U.S.

From 2012 through 2021, U.S. fishermen caught 76 percent of the country’s seafood needs on average, Stoll and his colleagues found. As recently as the 1990s, the average was 98 percent. Those numbers are based on the federal recommendation of eight ounces of seafood per week per adult, or 26 pounds annually; Americans currently eat about 20 pounds each per year.

Community supported fisheries (CSFs), where consumers buy shares of fresh seafood through pre-paid memberships, similar to the community supported agriculture model for produce, can help bridge the existing gap between what we catch and what we eat, Stoll says.

Currently, 12 percent of U.S. fishers sell directly to consumers, according to the first national survey of seafood harvesters, which he helped lead; the findings were published in Marine Policy in July. By avoiding middlemen like distributors and processors, direct sales allow harvesters to build relationships with the people eating their fish, mitigate shipping-related climate impacts and costs by keeping what they catch closer to home, and, typically, make more money in the process.

Civil Eats spoke with Stoll about why seafood self-reliance matters, where CSFs fit into the conversation, and how climate change is making these issues all the more urgent.

What are the benefits of seafood independence that make it a goal worth targeting?

Fishermen are really struggling to make their livelihoods work. We hear from people in the Gulf of Mexico, where prices are so depressed for shrimp that they’re tying up on the docks [rather than going out to fish]. We’re hearing about the price of salmon and the markets being flooded. A lot of that has to do with global trade dynamics.

At Local Catch Network, we’re working at the local harvester level, thinking about how to transform this system based on high volume and low value to one that’s deeply rooted in low volume and high value. Part of the way we get there is by localizing and working toward seafood independence.

This country is also facing a health epidemic. Something like one in 10 Americans is experiencing food insecurity on some level. That blows my mind. Seafood doesn’t fundamentally solve that, but there is a real opportunity to better integrate seafood into policy discussions around food systems that change our country’s health.

Part of that is thinking about self-reliance. The objective isn’t full self-reliance. I don’t think that’s realistic. The point of this paper was to stretch the boundaries of what is possible, because right now, we’re almost the opposite. It’s not a law of gravity that 90 percent of the seafood we consume in the U.S. has to be imported.

What stands in the way of our country’s seafood self-reliance, and how can we overcome those obstacles?

Almost everyone in the fisheries space can roll that 90 percent figure off their tongues. That figure has actually been challenged in the literature, but most of the seafood we eat is imported. And that narrative creates a vacuum for imagining alternatives. What if everyone knew that we could achieve seafood independence and that’s what everyone was talking about?

There are real policy barriers as well. We’ve seen massive consolidation in our fishing fleet at the harvester level, at the processor level, at the distribution level. We’ve made investments, both for better and for worse, in supporting a global seafood distribution system through trade policy agreements, trade missions, and marketing and promotion boards that are focused on moving product away from the places where it’s harvested and produced.

That’s come at the cost of investing in the infrastructure that we need to keep a product local and regional. We’ve lost public infrastructure—working waterfront infrastructure, small-scale community-based ice machines. We also need federal investment in processing and distribution. We’re trapped in this model: Catch it and get it out of here. [Also,] it starts in the water. Who has access to fishing? We need to find ways to support new entrants, whether it’s in wild-capture fisheries or aquaculture.

Which regions are in the best and worst position to reach seafood independence?

Alaska drives the bus. Alaska is a dominant player nationally in seafood production and plays an important role in the potential for seafood independence. But I don’t think that lets other regions off the hook. All regions make an important contribution.

New England has witnessed a relative decline [in seafood harvests], but I’m hopeful for the innovation that’s happening there and the investment in the seafood sector, especially in a place like Maine with oysters and kelp. The wild-capture fisheries continue to be anchors of coastal communities there, too, and unlike most places I’ve been, they’re still part of the fabric of daily conversations. When you get to the point where seafood is an afterthought and not part of those conversations, that’s when you’re in slippery territory.

Beside policy, consolidation, and lack of infrastructure, what accounts for the discrepancy between what we catch and what we eat in this country?

The average consumer doesn’t understand seafood as a protein and struggles with knowing what to do with it. Then you offer some species they’ve never heard of, and it’s end of story. Part of it is education. We need to invest in people understanding different species and what is seasonal and local. Researchers have found that today, while there is some regional variance in seafood consumption, it’s awfully similar no matter where you are—you’re going to get salmon, shrimp, and tilapia or some other white fish.

Where do community supported fisheries and other harvesters selling directly to consumers fit into the future of these conversations?

CSFs will likely never be the dominant mode of distribution, and that’s OK. But diverse supply chains are critical to the functioning of a vibrant seafood economy in the U.S. Sometimes it makes sense to distribute globally, but you can’t just rely on that, [especially] with increasing global shocks. Our research [for the Marine Policy paper] was the first attempt at documenting the number of people participating in the sector. The USDA has been collecting similar data [for agriculture] for decades, and seafood, except for aquaculture, has been sidelined from that process. When you see that one in 10 harvesters are involved in direct sales, that changes the dynamic. It’s a sector worth investing in. This is part of the off-ramp infrastructure.

How did the pandemic influence direct-to-consumer sales by harvesters, and what policy changes emerged there that could bring the U.S. closer to seafood self-reliance?

One change was around permitting for direct sales. There’s always been this narrative that seafood is a little bit fishy, it will make you sick, and therefore it needs to be regulated in a different way than ag commodities. There’s some reality to that, but it’s often been a red herring used [by regulators] to thwart these types of activities. During the pandemic, we saw policies relax. And guess what? People weren’t getting sick. Harvesters were able to connect with consumers. And now those emergency rules have been institutionalized and continue to exist. A place like Rhode Island [where a new law allows fishers to obtain permits for docksides sales] is a good example of that.

Our survey of seafood harvesters was done in partnership with the USDA and the National Marine Fisheries Service. If we’d gone to either of those departments pre-pandemic, I’m not sure we’d even have gotten a meeting, let alone been able to co-lead this national effort. The funding we received and the support from leadership in both agencies reflects a recognition that diverse supply chains are really important.

How is climate change impacting the seafood system and both our need and ability to become more self-reliant?

Climate change has a whole range of effects, and one is the level of uncertainty it brings. Many of our management decisions are based on stock assessment science. I often hear people in stock assessment say, anything they thought they knew before, they’ve had to throw out the window and admit, ‘We don’t know what the future is going to look like.’ That has massive ripple effects in setting annual catch limits, policies, regulations, and [ultimately] business decisions like whether to participate in fisheries.

We’re also seeing a spike in major weather events. In Maine this past winter, we had massive storm surges that had absolutely devastating effects on our working waterfront. We’re still grappling with that. Climate change adds layers of stress to a sector that is already struggling with competition from foreign imports, with decline in the industry, with aging fleets—a whole suite of compounding issues. That creates a lot of anxiety for what the future holds, and it affects self-reliance by introducing uncertainty.

If you’re eating a menu of seafood that reflects global production, you are undermining your ability to understand how climate change is affecting an ecosystem, because the production system can hop between climate disasters. It can dodge those effects by saying, “Oh, there’s a failure here? We’ll source seafood over there.” It’s harder to do that when you’re sourcing seafood from the Gulf of Maine to support New England or from the South Atlantic to support the Southeast. It really connects people to their source of seafood and makes them better positioned to be engaged consumers and to engage in change.

How can the average person play a role in supporting a healthier seafood ecosystem?

Know your fisherman. If you can trace your food back to the source, inevitably you will gain an understanding of the context in which that food is produced. That’s a luxury, though. Many people don’t have the privilege to be able to choose where their food comes from. It’s up to policymakers, funders, and decision-makers. They need to recognize the disconnect between [reality and] an idealized food system where an idealized consumer knows their fisherman—and implement policies that create access to that food.

This interview has been lightly edited for length and clarity.

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]]> https://civileats.com/2024/10/01/the-case-for-seafood-self-reliance/feed/ 0 The Pawpaw, a Beloved Native Fruit, Could Seed a More Sustainable Future for Small Farms https://civileats.com/2024/09/10/the-pawpaw-a-beloved-native-fruit-could-seed-a-more-sustainable-future-for-small-farms/ https://civileats.com/2024/09/10/the-pawpaw-a-beloved-native-fruit-could-seed-a-more-sustainable-future-for-small-farms/#comments Tue, 10 Sep 2024 09:00:27 +0000 https://civileats.com/?p=57559 Pawpaws are America’s largest edible native fruit, and their ineffable mystique will bring thousands of visitors to the farm’s annual pawpaw festival in late September. They grow abundantly in the wild here in central Pennsylvania and across much of the fruit’s native range, which spans 26 states as far west as the Great Plains and […]

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As the sun beats down from a cloudless morning sky across Horn Farm in York, Pennsylvania, Dick Bono ambles among his pawpaw trees, admiring their pale green fruits like a proud parent. In late July, the pawpaws are fist-sized and hard as a rock, still two months shy of being full-grown and ripe. But soon they’ll soften and sweeten into a fruit revered for its tropical flavor and texture—a blend of banana, mango, and pineapple, so soft it’s eaten with a spoon.

“It was like going to heaven on a surfboard.”—Jean Vargas, pawpaw festival attendee

Pawpaws are America’s largest edible native fruit, and their ineffable mystique will bring thousands of visitors to the farm’s annual pawpaw festival in late September. They grow abundantly in the wild here in central Pennsylvania and across much of the fruit’s native range, which spans 26 states as far west as the Great Plains and from northern Florida to Maine. But the pawpaw’s two- to three-week harvest window, short shelf life, and delicate skin still make it anathema to the rigid needs of grocery stores and a rare find even at farmers’ markets.

Despite the inherent obstacles to enjoying a pawpaw—and perhaps, in part, because of them—interest in the fruit continues to grow. Festivals in several states, mostly throughout September, give people a chance to taste the fruit for the first time or celebrate an old favorite.

Meanwhile, research and plant breeding efforts are underway to explore and expand its potential as a sustainable low-input, high-value crop that could figure into the future of small farms throughout the eastern U.S. If the pawpaw’s greatest admirers have their way, it will also show the way forward for a localized approach to agriculture that operates outside of the mass-produced mainstream.

The pawpaw's green fruit (left) gives way to a custardy interior (right). (Photo credit, left: Kat Arazawa)

The pawpaw’s green skin (left) gives way to a custardy interior (right). (Photo credit, left: Kat Arazawa)

Bono and his wife, Judy, manage 52 pawpaw trees on land they rent at Horn Farm Center for Agricultural Education, a regenerative agriculture nonprofit. Dick predicts well over 1,000 pounds of fruit this year, and he’ll need it all to satisfy the 2,000 visitors expected for the festival.

“We bring joy and happiness for that one little weekend in September,” Judy says.

While many at the festival will be getting their first exposure to the pawpaw, Dick, a land conservationist and retired architect, and Judy, a native plant enthusiast, have been enamored for 20 years now. They had tasted the hit-or-miss wild varieties that grow in the fertile soil along the Susquehanna River, but got hooked during a visit to Deep Run, a Maryland orchard with a range of pawpaw cultivars among its 1,000 trees.

They wanted to bring some of that sweetness north to York, so in 2004 they hosted a downtown dinner at Blue Moon Cafe that made pawpaw the star of the show. The French chef they hired turned out chicken with hot peppers and pawpaw, a salad with the fruit sliced fresh, pawpaw bread with pawpaw butter, and a crepe filled, of course, with pawpaw.

The dinner was a hit—and so were the modest events the Bonos began hosting in the driveway of Judy’s plant shop every September, letting friends and neighbors in on their little secret with pawpaw tastings, baked goods, ice cream, and salsas. When they planted their orchard 11 years ago, the gatherings turned into a festival, which soon outgrew anything they could manage themselves. Now, Horn Farm Center runs the show.

What started as a “quaint event,” in the words of the center’s executive director, Alexis Campbell, has expanded into a countywide, four-day festival. The festival includes tastings and cooking demonstrations, giving visitors a chance to appreciate the pawpaw and other crops native to the region, as well as tours exploring ecosystem restoration and biodynamic farming on nearby land.

The Pawpaw ‘Experience’

While Dick Bono describes the subtle differences in fruiting patterns that differentiate one pawpaw variety from the next, a zebra swallowtail butterfly flits among them, a reminder that native plants like the pawpaw support biodiversity. Pawpaws are the only host plant for zebra swallowtails.

Dick Bono and his pawpaw trees growing at Horn Farm. (Photo credit: Kat Arazawa)

Dick Bono and his pawpaw trees growing at the Horn Farm Center. (Photo credit: Kat Arazawa)

As the butterfly flutters between three rows of trees, its black and white wings vivid against their green foliage, Bono introduces the members of his orchard. The Canadian NC1 ripens early, with fewer smooth black seeds than other varieties. The Allegheny’s yellow flesh brings a pop of citrus flavor. The Susquehanna’s firm flesh is sweeter than most, and the Shenandoah, his favorite in the orchard, has a mild flavor and a custardy texture that everyone loves.

So much of the interest in the pawpaw is about curiosity, Bono says, both because of the fruit’s fickleness and the fact that it’s more akin to tropical cherimoya and soursop than anything else in its range. But the flavor keeps people coming back. “The taste,” he says, “is what it’s about.”

Jean Vargas would agree. A self-described “fruit hunter” who says he has tried some 700 varieties, he came from Florida for his first pawpaw festival in 2021. His first bite, which he says tasted of mango, banana, coconut, and vanilla, was “mind-blowing.”

“It was like going to heaven on a surfboard,” he says.

That weekend, Vargas spent nearly $100 on pawpaws, befriended the Bonos and other aficionados, and committed to coming back. He’s visited three years in a row and sounds pained to admit that work will keep him away this September. A festival is the best way to experience everything the pawpaw can offer, he says, even if it’s six states away.

“It’s mystical,” Vargas says.

Chris Chmiel of Integration Acres in Albany, Ohio, started the Ohio Pawpaw Festival in 1999 and has since heard countless stories of people’s relationships with the fruit he says has become “a symbol of our Appalachian heritage.” He had a “communal experience” with some pawpaws when he first launched the festival, asking for their blessing. It seems to have worked. His festival now draws in 10,000 people for pawpaw beers, a pawpaw cook-off, and a pawpaw-eating contest.

“Everyone’s got these stories that the pawpaw has been a part of for them. You don’t get that when you go to the grocery store and buy a banana,” Chmiel says. “It’s an experience.”

Photo credit: Andrew Leahy, Horn FarmPhoto credit: Andrew LeahyPhoto credit: Andrew Leahy

Thousands of people are expected to attend York County’s annual Pawpaw Festival at Horn Farm Center. As pictured here from past festivals, visitors can sample pawpaws and take some home. (Photo credit: Andrew Leahy, Horn Farm Center)

Pawpaw’s Agricultural and Ecological Benefits

The pawpaw is not only a part of Appalachian heritage. Its abundance in the wild helped sustain Indigenous tribes across its range for centuries, including the Susquehannocks, whose territory included the land on which Horn Farm is now located. Indigenous people first cultivated it in woodlands, using the tree’s fibrous inner bark to make ropes and string and its leaves and stems as medicine. The Shawnee word for “September” translates to “pawpaw moon.”

A pawpaw T-shirt (Photo credit: Judy Bono)Mr. Pawpaw Head (Photo credit: Judy Bono)

Pawpaw enthusiasts have found many ways to celebrate the fruit. (Photo credit: Judy Bono)

As pawpaw aficionados often mention, it was George Washington’s favorite fruit, and Lewis and Clark relied on it for portions of their westward expedition. Its cultural connection to Appalachia runs deep. It’s the subject of a folk song and the namesake of towns in West Virginia, Illinois, Michigan, and Kentucky.

Today, it is emerging from this long history as the subject of renewed public interest, thanks to its varied ecological and agricultural attributes. For those investing in sustainable landscapes and watershed restoration, the pawpaw’s roots can hold stream banks in place and prevent runoff. On farms focused on agroforestry and silvopasture—the integration of livestock and trees—it’s a welcome neighbor, including at Integration Acres, where goats graze among the pawpaws but leave their fruit for humans to eat.

And, because it ripens after apples in many places, the pawpaw offers farmers a way to continue harvesting into the fall, and bring in extra income. At a time when most produce we eat is available year-round, the pawpaw’s seasonality is significant, says Tim Clymer, who specializes in unusual fruits at Threefold Farms in Mechanicsburg, an hour northwest of Horn Farm.

He grows blackberries, kiwi berries, persimmons, and figs, which were his primary crop until pawpaws took the mantle. With 160 trees in full production at the farm and nearly 300 more on the way, Threefold will contribute some of the 3,000 pounds of pawpaws sold at the festival.

The pawpaw has other advantages that set it apart from so many mainstream fruits, particularly from a farmer’s perspective. It’s high-value (Clymer sells it for $5 to $7 a pound and it goes for more elsewhere) and low-input (impervious to most insect and fungus pests, it can easily be grown organically). It can survive temperatures below freezing and, as a native fruit, it grows well with consistency in much of its home range.

That range is expanding as climate change brings warmer temperatures north, opening up nearly all of New England as an ideal climate for the pawpaw in the years to come. Increases in extreme weather, in the form of both drought and heavy rains and wind, however, could pose a long-term threat to the pawpaw, which thrives in the moist, nutrient-dense soil alongside bodies of water. For many years, though, festivals like those in Pennsylvania and Ohio will be well positioned to expand the fruit’s cult following.

A pawpaw tree in winter. (Photo credit: Judy Bono)

A pawpaw tree in winter. (Photo credit: Judy Bono)

Seeding a Sustainable System

Adam D’Angelo wants more people to find their own pawpaw story. As the breeding operations manager at the Savanna Institute, a Midwest agroforestry nonprofit, he’s studied currants, persimmons, elderberries, mulberries, and hazelnuts. But the pawpaw has his heart. When he was a kid, his brother showed him a pawpaw tree in Cornell University’s MacDaniels Nut Grove, and he stayed up late into the night combing the internet to learn more about it.

“I was amazed to see there was this delicious, tropical fruit that grew here,” D’Angelo says. “And not only did it grow here, but it had evolved here.”

He planted his first tree when he was 11. At Project Pawpaw, a crowdfunded initiative focused on research, breeding, and market development, he’s working to seed a more resilient agricultural system, starting with the pawpaw. The organization opened its first large-scale research orchard this spring, planting 800 trees—enough to produce 10 tons of pawpaw once mature—on an acre in South Jersey, and has plans for two more, including one in Wisconsin.

D’Angelo’s goal is to develop pawpaws with firm flesh, great flavor, and thicker skin, so they don’t bruise quite so easily in transport. (The Bonos say they pack them in a single layer, laid over bubble wrap.) A color break from green to yellow, to signify ripeness, would allow farmers to harvest the fruit more efficiently. Currently, the only way to tell is by squeezing each one. With some improvements, the pawpaw could help diversify farms across the eastern U.S., D’Angelo says.

Alongside other native and perennial fruit and nut crops, the pawpaw can be part of a better agricultural future, he says, encouraging people to think beyond just what’s consistent and available in grocery stores. “We need to start embracing things that grow well where we are,” he says.

D’Angelo’s work will take a while to materialize—plant breeding always does. He doesn’t expect to release a new variety for 10 years. But in the meantime, researchers are finding other ways to improve the pawpaw’s viability for small farms. Kentucky State University has over 2,000 trees in its research program, which started in 1994, focused on fine-tuning propagation methods, orchard management, and ripening and storage techniques. Ohio State University started its own research in 2006, aiming to increase the pawpaw’s profitability for local growers. It hosts a conference each year to discuss production and marketing of the fruit.

“If we’re 10 to 15 years from a new variety, we might only be a couple years from telling farmers the best temperature to store their fruit—or we could develop a new harvest crate, so they don’t bruise,” D’Angelo says. “That’s what propelled the avocado.”

At Horn Farm Center, where neighbors tend a flourishing community garden a short distance from young hazelnuts, persimmons and elderberries, Campbell hopes the pawpaw can be part of something bigger than itself. With that in mind, this year’s festival, now called Wild & Uncommon Weekend, will widen its scope beyond the pawpaw to consider a range of native fruits that are central to the farm’s regenerative vision. The broader focus can educate visitors about “bioregional living,” a way of engaging with agriculture to elevate “what’s inherent and special about this particular climate, this particular land,” Campbell says.

Perennial crops like the pawpaw require little or no tillage, allowing them to improve soil health, sequester carbon, and prevent agricultural runoff into waterways, all while creating habitats for wildlife. For Campbell, that makes it a “gateway” to developing more locally focused and ecologically beneficial food systems.

To have that impact, though, the pawpaw needs to be more than a curiosity. The festivals, research, and personal connections with the fruit are all part of that journey.

“The pawpaw and the festival are a small glimpse of what could be,” she says.

2024 Pawpaw Festivals
  • August 31: The South Carolina Pawpaw Festival at Blue Oak Horticulture in Taylors included lessons on pawpaw history, pruning, and care, as well as propagation and planting.
  • September 7: The second annual Louisville Pawpaw Festival at the Louisville Nature Center in Kentucky featured guided hikes, local vendors, and live music.
  • September 7-8: At the two-day Indiana Pawpaw Festival in Merom, the hosts raffled off a pawpaw tree every hour.
  • September 13-15: The 26th annual Ohio Pawpaw Festival in Albany, Ohio, will highlight the growing, cooking, and sustainability of pawpaws.
  • September 14: A festival in Paw Paw, West Virginia, will feature special guest Neal Peterson, known as Johnny Pawpaw Seed, for the many varieties he’s bred.
  • September 21: The ninth annual festival in Frederick, Maryland, will celebrate pawpaws and permaculture.
  • September 26-29: The Horn Farm Center’s Wild & Uncommon Weekend spans four days across York, Pennsylvania, with a pawpaw celebration on the farm on Sep. 28.
  • September 28: Paw Paw, Illinois, will get its first pawpaw festival, with tastings and seedlings for sale.
  • September 28: West Virginia University will host its own festival featuring Andrew Moore, the author of Pawpaw: In Search of America’s Forgotten Fruit.

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]]> https://civileats.com/2024/09/10/the-pawpaw-a-beloved-native-fruit-could-seed-a-more-sustainable-future-for-small-farms/feed/ 3 How a Vermont Cheesemaker Helps Local Farms Thrive https://civileats.com/2024/09/04/how-a-vermont-cheesemaker-helps-local-farms-thrive/ https://civileats.com/2024/09/04/how-a-vermont-cheesemaker-helps-local-farms-thrive/#comments Wed, 04 Sep 2024 09:00:07 +0000 https://civileats.com/?p=57486 This story was co-published and supported by the journalism nonprofit the Economic Hardship Reporting Project.

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This story was co-published and supported by the journalism nonprofit the Economic Hardship Reporting Project.

The post How a Vermont Cheesemaker Helps Local Farms Thrive appeared first on Civil Eats.

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How a Community Gardener Grew Food for Her Family, Quit Her Job at McDonald’s, and Started a Farm https://civileats.com/2024/08/20/how-a-community-gardener-grew-food-for-her-family-quit-her-job-at-mcdonalds-and-started-a-farm/ https://civileats.com/2024/08/20/how-a-community-gardener-grew-food-for-her-family-quit-her-job-at-mcdonalds-and-started-a-farm/#respond Tue, 20 Aug 2024 09:00:21 +0000 https://civileats.com/?p=57290 Hernández Reyes grew up subsistence farming with her parents in Oaxaca, and the garden spoke to her. She called a number posted nearby and reached Adam Kohl, the executive director of Outgrowing Hunger, an organization that rents unused land at accessible costs to help immigrants and refugees grow their own food. Hernández Reyes was able […]

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When Maximina Hernández Reyes emigrated from Oaxaca, Mexico, to Oregon in 2001, she was still learning English, had no idea where the food pantries were, and knew very few people. She struggled to find a support system in Gresham, the suburb of Portland where she settled, until 2012, when she happened upon a community garden in the city’s Vance Park.

Hernández Reyes grew up subsistence farming with her parents in Oaxaca, and the garden spoke to her. She called a number posted nearby and reached Adam Kohl, the executive director of Outgrowing Hunger, an organization that rents unused land at accessible costs to help immigrants and refugees grow their own food. Hernández Reyes was able to secure a small plot in the community garden and started growing food for her family. This was just the beginning.

Over the next decade, gardening evolved from a hobby to a passion for Hernández Reyes, but it wasn’t how she earned her income. While she worked her way up at McDonald’s, eventually becoming a manager, she gardened on the side as a way to provide her family and neighbors with fresh produce. Eventually, she became a community leader through her work in the garden; her original plot is now an educational site where she teaches gardening to other Latinas.

Maximina Hernández Reyes grows many types of produce found in her home state of Oaxaca, Mexico, including tomatillos and herbs like epazote.

Maximina Hernández Reyes grows a range of produce, including many types of vegetables and herbs found in her home state of Oaxaca, Mexico. (Photo credit: Elizabeth Doerr)

Two years ago, Hernández Reyes had the opportunity to scale up her own growing operation and turn it into a source of income. She is now in her second season of managing a one-acre farm that Outgrowing Hunger leases in the nearby town of Boring, Oregon. While she named the operation MR. Farms after her initials, she has leaned into people misreading it as “Mister.” The business has been so successful that she was able to quit her job at McDonald’s last year and has transitioned from feeding her family to feeding—and mentoring—her whole community.

Hernández Reyes attributes her success at this food sovereignty endeavor to the support of a network called Rockwood Food Systems Collaborative (RFSC), part of a larger organization called Rockwood Community Development Corporation, which focuses on underserved areas of East Portland and Gresham. RFSC is comprised of nearly 30 organizations, including social services, food justice initiatives, and health and educational institutions.

Traditionally, food security organizations receive food from anywhere they can get it, and because donations are rarely from local growers, the system often results in processed foods and a reliance on the precarious global food system. The collaborative model, rather than providing one-way charity, is focused on mutualism and community care. Partnerships with local growers create a market that supports farmer entrepreneurship; community members receive fresh produce; and the system is more resilient to global food shortages.

“When people see these vegetables in the farmers’ market, they get really excited. They say, ‘I haven’t seen these in many years!’ or ‘I’ve been looking for these.’”

At Rockwood, when someone shows a knack for farming, especially when it benefits their community, someone from the collaborative connects them with various member organizations that can help them access resources and connections to build a successful farm business. When Hernández Reyes got involved, Outgrowing Hunger provided her with land and put her in touch with the Oregon Food Bank, which buys her vegetables for their pantries, and Rockwood People’s Market, a BIPOC-led farmers market in Gresham, where she sells produce every Sunday. She and other growers are also able to sell produce to local community members, who pay with tokens provided by food systems partners, the local low-cost health clinic Wallace Medical Concern, and the youth services organization Play Grow Learn.

The Rockwood Food Systems Collaborative is one of hundreds of similar networks across the U.S. that are serving as a model for a more resilient food and health system. Others include Hawai’i Food Hub Hui, Cooperative Food Empowerment Directive, and the Mississippi Farm to School Network. Leveraging social capital between and among institutions, these networks, along with community members themselves, create an alternative local food system. This can be particularly powerful for immigrants and U.S. noncitizens, who are twice as likely to be among the 44 million people in the U.S. facing food insecurity.

Civil Eats recently spoke to Hernández Reyes about her journey toward this collaborative model, the organizations that supported her new business, and how growing food offers freedom to immigrant families.

What do you miss most about your home in Oaxaca?

What I miss are the simple things like traditions, family, and my culture. That was before. But now we’ve built the same community here and brought our traditions here. My vegetables are part of those traditions.

At first, they only grew a little bit because I only had one plant from the seeds I brought with me. But we saved the seeds and acclimatized them and now we have more of our traditional vegetables to share with my community: tomatillos and Roma tomatoes (but not like the ones you get from the grocery store; they’re better), green beans from my state, types of Mexican corn, and pipicha, pápalo, and epazote [herbs used in traditional dishes in central and southern Mexico]. When people see these vegetables in the farmers’ market, they get really excited. They say, “I haven’t seen these in many years!” or “I’ve been looking for these.”

What is your role in the Rockwood Food Systems Collaborative and how have these connections helped you?

I was volunteering during the pandemic with Outgrowing Hunger to distribute food boxes to families. Through that, I met people from Rockwood CDC, Play Grow Learn, Metropolitan Family Service, and a lot of other organizations. Then I got involved with Guerreras Latinas [an empowerment program for Spanish-speaking Latinas] where I taught gardening through a program called Sembradoras, which was supported by funding from the Oregon Food Bank.

The connections benefit my business. When the organizations have grant money, they can purchase some vegetables from me—that way, they help me, and then I help the community. There’s this cycle. I want to keep my vegetables in the community; I don’t want to send my vegetables to the huge stores.

How did you get your business off the ground?

I started my business when I saw that my community needed the kinds of vegetables that I grow. And I was thinking, how could I sell my vegetables? I talked to Lynn [Ketch, executive director] from Rockwood CDC, and she asked why didn’t I make it a business. And I said, ‘Yes! Why not?!’ I was a gardener before, but I wanted to get to the next level of farming. I’m motivated to work hard because I want to serve my community; I want to grow more food.

“When the organizations have grant money, they can purchase some vegetables from me—that way, they help me, and then I help the community. There’s this cycle.”

At first, we didn’t have enough money to pay the rent on the land at Outgrowing Hunger. So, Adam gave me some options where I could pay after three to four months of selling vegetables. He always had somebody to help when we needed it and connected me with other organizations.

Another support was the Oregon Food Bank. Because it was my first year of farming, they gave me support by buying my products to give out in the food pantry. They pay you upfront, so with that money, I started to buy the irrigation and everything. Another organization, the Metropolitan Family Service, bought a small amount of vegetables, which helped, too.

Does growing food and the connections to the Food Collaborative offer freedom to the immigrant families in your community?

Yes, it helps a lot. Here at Outgrowing Hunger, the price for rent is not that high. And Outgrowing Hunger helps us apply for grants. There isn’t a lot of space for people to grow their own food at home, so the land for gardening helps so much. But, we need to educate people about how and where to grow fresh vegetables.

The collaborative has helped bring more information to people. For the people who can’t grow their food, the organizations buy the food, and community members receive tokens for free and can get fresh food from the farmers’ market. There are a lot of benefits—people’s hearts are better, they’re healthier, and they have less stress. There’s a lot of freedom in that.

How has working in this kind of collaborative model been different from what you experienced when you first arrived in the U.S.?

There’s a big difference. At some food pantries, they asked for your address, social security information, and documentation. Immigrants were scared to go there, because they would have to share all their information. It was also hard to find out where those pantries were. Now the food pantries don’t ask for that. But also, because of this group of organizations, there’s a lot more information about where people can get more food.

I experienced challenges before I found the collaborative. Organizations didn’t have enough Spanish speakers, and there wasn’t a lot of information available. It was hard to make connections. I also didn’t know my neighbors very well. But now, with this group of organizations, it has changed. They all have Spanish speakers, and there is a lot more information about resources available.

MR. Farms in Boring, Oregon, with Mt. Hood in the background.

MR. Farms in Boring, Oregon, with Mt. Hood in the background. (Photo credit: Elizabeth Doerr)

What kinds of community members have you met through your work with farming and the food systems collaborative?

I’ve met a lot of people since I’ve started volunteering here, and I made all these connections around my neighborhood. I talk to people and tell them what I’m doing and how I grow vegetables, and I bring them in that way. I’m building community through food. With Outgrowing Hunger, when I got started, we had two Latinos, and now we have 30 Latinos. I talk to them: “You can apply for this; you can get this resource.” I have WhatsApp, and when I learn of opportunities, I share.

One of those families was telling me they didn’t have enough money to buy food. This one woman said she tried to go to the food pantry, but they asked for all these documents. I told her, “I have some vegetables in my garden,” and she was so happy. I asked her why she didn’t have any money, and she said her husband was sick and it was just [her] working, and their rent was so high, and they have three small children. I connected her to Outgrowing Hunger, and she applied for that space in the garden, and she started growing her own vegetables.

What are your hopes for the future?

Oh, my goodness. So much. My dream is to grow my farm, to implement jobs for immigrants or anyone who wants to work. To produce more. Right now, it’s a family farm: my husband, my kids, my brothers, people in the community. I really want to build a program to give jobs to moms in the summertime. They can bring their kids and come to work. I keep thinking and thinking—and I want to do everything!

This interview was conducted in English and Spanish and has been translated and edited for length and clarity.

The post How a Community Gardener Grew Food for Her Family, Quit Her Job at McDonald’s, and Started a Farm appeared first on Civil Eats.

]]> https://civileats.com/2024/08/20/how-a-community-gardener-grew-food-for-her-family-quit-her-job-at-mcdonalds-and-started-a-farm/feed/ 0 On TikTok, A Revival of Black Herbalism https://civileats.com/2024/08/13/on-tiktok-a-revival-of-black-herbalism/ https://civileats.com/2024/08/13/on-tiktok-a-revival-of-black-herbalism/#respond Tue, 13 Aug 2024 09:00:48 +0000 https://civileats.com/?p=57219 My childhood memories include my grandmother making garlic tinctures, boiling ginger tea, and delivering spoonfuls of elderberry syrup to me when I was sick. When I had the flu, she’d put slices of onions in my socks to “pull the cold out.” If someone had cramps, she’d brew them a soothing cup of peppermint tea. […]

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Growing up in a Black American family, I was steeped in the wisdom of natural remedies passed down through generations.

My childhood memories include my grandmother making garlic tinctures, boiling ginger tea, and delivering spoonfuls of elderberry syrup to me when I was sick. When I had the flu, she’d put slices of onions in my socks to “pull the cold out.” If someone had cramps, she’d brew them a soothing cup of peppermint tea.

“Herbalism is a study of plants and their medicinal properties. However, when it comes to practicing herbalism, it’s an art.”

She had no formal training, but my grandmother knew to use eucalyptus for inflammation and licorice for digestion—and they worked. It wasn’t until I started taking classes to get my certificate in medicinal plants from Cornell University last year, starting my own herbalist journey, that I began to connect what I was learning with what my grandmother had already taught me.

But these traditions didn’t begin with her.

Traditional medicine, or folk medicine, was once the dominant medical system in Africa. During chattel slavery, enslaved Africans brought their knowledge of medicinal plants to America, adapting their practices to the new environment. This legacy of plant medicine has not only survived, but also has become an integral—and rarely credited—part of Black American culture.

In recent years, there has been a resurgence of interest in herbalism, including on platforms like TikTok, where #Blackherbalist and #AfricanHolisticHealth have garnered over 64 million combined views. This movement reflects a broader celebration of the resilience and ingenuity of our ancestors.

Carmen Adams is a Black herbalist registered with the American Herbalists Guild as well as a community health nurse and the founder of Innergy Med Group, a practice that provides wellness plans that integrate holistic and herbal solutions for her clients. She began her journey by studying herbalism and naturopathic medicine to heal her acne, digestive issues, weight gain, and anxiety. Now, after years of helping clients and mentoring aspiring herbalists, Carmen shares her insights and expertise with her 220,000 followers on TikTok, hoping to empower, educate and teach people how to advocate for their health.

I spoke to Adams about herbalism’s historic connection to Black American culture, how social media is giving the practice new life, and why Black Americans haven’t always received credit for their contributions.

How would you define an herbalist?

Herbalism is a study of plants and their medicinal properties. However, when it comes to practicing herbalism, it’s an art.

An herbalist consciously works with plants, whether they’re live, dried, or otherwise. Maybe you’re someone who [forages], so you’re out in nature and you’re picking them. Maybe you’re a farmer interacting with plants, but you’re doing so to extract their medicinal properties. An herbalist may be spending time with plants, whether it’s breathing with them, using them to purify the air, or consuming them to benefit your physical “meat suit.” That’s how I would describe an herbalist, because not everyone has to be in a clinical setting. Not everyone’s mind works that way, and I respect that as well.

Can you share your personal journey into medicinal plants?

I’ve always known I’d work in health care. While on the pre-med track, I began learning things that didn’t quite feel in alignment—different things in reference to pharmaceuticals and policies. I learned that I was pregnant; that was the biggest mental change. I knew there were certain aspects I wasn’t going to incorporate into my personal journey. It pushed me to ask, “What now? What did my ancestors do?”

I remember getting sick as a kid. I had a really bad stomach virus. My mom was in the kitchen, making something her brother used to make for her. It had onions, garlic, ginger, all kinds of stuff. It smelled horrible. I remember taking it, looking at her, running to the front door, and throwing up on the welcome mat. However, from that moment forward, I felt better.

So, I sought out herbalism. Back then, there weren’t many courses. There were different herbalists acting as mentors. I was privileged enough to have a mentor by the name of Dulce King. She was a lovely Dominican woman. . . . Her depth of knowledge was invaluable. I wanted to take her mind and just shake it into mine. That was the birth of my love of herbalism and teaching.

What inspired you to start sharing your knowledge on TikTok?

I’m not a social media person. My assistant felt that people would benefit from learning from me, even if they weren’t clients or mentees. I gave it a whirl, and it just took off.

I’m just sharing my two cents, and if it resonates, beautiful. If it doesn’t, it doesn’t. I started to learn the different misinformation that was out there because it’s so easy to make money . . . I feel sometimes people can get a little drunk on that, which could cause them to overpromise a product that’s going to underdeliver, at best. I wanted to make sure that I share that herbs are [simply] a tool.

In my practice, sometimes we don’t even mention an herb. People may just need a place to vent or feel safe. Their inner dialogue was causing the nausea and anxiety; the peppermint tea wasn’t needed.

Some people use TikTok as an alternative to Google, so it’s important for people to disseminate information responsibly. What are your thoughts on that?

The fact that people use it as Google kind of scares me. Even though I believe self-diagnosing has its place, specialists are specialists for a reason. Anyone can get a TikTok account. Anyone can buy a book, regurgitate it, and then say, “This product can get you that result.” It’s disheartening because I’ve seen [social media remedies] hurt people.

For example, sea moss could be beneficial, but there are some cases where it is not beneficial. I’ve had clients come to me or put themselves in the hospital because [of] something that they saw online—someone promising how it benefited them without understanding certain contraindications.

Are there any herbs you had a relationship with as a child that you still use now?

Ginger, onion, garlic. Broths were pretty big.

One of the first cough syrups I ever made as an herbalist was a honey-onion cough syrup. [I was] learning about nature’s antibiotics and then, feeling spiffy, added garlic to it. [I remember] tasting it and thinking, “This reminds me of childhood. Why does this remind me of childhood?’

Things like that started coming back. I started making my own salad dressings but using my cough syrup as a base. Then it was like, “Ah, yes! Food can be medicine!” It just starts to click.

Are there any remedies that are popular among herbalists today that are safe to try?

There is no cookie-cutter answer to this. It’s out of my scope to diagnose, treat, or prescribe, so I’m simply sharing.

(For eczema and psoriasis), chickweed is a mild, nutritive herb that can be consumed internally and used externally as a fomentation, which is a fancy way of saying using a tea topically.

Nettle! In my personal life, I love it whenever I’m dealing with seasonal allergies.

Oh, and for menstrual cramps, red raspberry leaf coupled with ginger root. Bring some ginger to a boil and combine that tea on top of red raspberry leaves. Remove it from heat, let it steep, and consume that. The ginger is an anodyne or analgesic, meaning pain-relieving. It’s also blood-thinning and a circulatory herb. Red raspberry is touted for being a uterine tonic and a nutritive.

I have read that enslaved Black Americans used cayenne pepper in their shoes or on their feet to treat colds. Have you heard of this?

I have heard the remedy more times than you can believe! Cayenne is a circulatory herb that is also considered a diaphoretic herb, so it can increase your body’s temperature.

Putting cayenne in your shoes can burn, depending on if you have sensitive skin, so you will want to maybe use a carrier oil like olive oil, jojoba oil, or coconut oil. Even then, it feels like Icy Hot.

I’ve used it for camping. It kept my feet warm. So, I think [enslaved Americans] were attempting to increase body temperature to assist. Cayenne is a diaphoretic herb and can cause sweating, so if it’s coming from that place and that’s how that person responded, their body could positively be influenced.

Anecdotes like that are fascinating and important to me as a Black American. Are people holding tradition more closely now?

(More) than ever before. I’m 36. Thinking of my childhood, there was an undertone to religion or maybe they’d tie it to biblical times. Nowadays, people are dipping back into their roots, if they know what those roots are. But some are just going back to the basics and revering nature. That’s how it started with me.

I’ve seen a surge of Black herbalists, particularly among millennials and Gen Z. How has social media opened the door for Black people who want to celebrate these traditions but may not have had the family background or access to that knowledge?

It’s given a platform to everyone, melanated or otherwise. I do think it may be connecting more and more people within the diaspora. There are different cultures that look similar that are learning that they have similar thoughts for health and wellness, utilizing what the Earth provides. It’s a great opportunity to share knowledge and connect. I’ve had individuals join live [streams] and say, “I didn’t even know this was an option!” Stuff like that feels good to know, and it cuts across racial lines.

Why have the contributions Black Americans have made to herbal medicine been overlooked and undocumented?

At one point, it was illegal [for Black people] to read and write. They didn’t have the opportunity or know-how for publishing. Typically, storytelling [was how] things were passed down. All of those factors could be perceived as barriers to how this knowledge was traditionally shared.

What does healing mean to you?

Alignment of mind, body, spirit. Balance. It’s your inner dialogue, your stress-coping mechanisms. It’s pain, or lack thereof. It’s what you choose to consume visually, auditorily, or via digestion and spirit. It’s your connection to source, whatever that looks like, religious or spiritual. It’s where you draw strength from.

This conversation has been edited for length and clarity.

The post On TikTok, A Revival of Black Herbalism appeared first on Civil Eats.

]]> https://civileats.com/2024/08/13/on-tiktok-a-revival-of-black-herbalism/feed/ 0 Farm Stops Create New Markets for Small Farms https://civileats.com/2024/08/12/farm-stops-create-new-markets-for-small-farms/ https://civileats.com/2024/08/12/farm-stops-create-new-markets-for-small-farms/#comments Mon, 12 Aug 2024 09:00:35 +0000 https://civileats.com/?p=57188 And when these same farmers make a delivery to Argus Farm Stop, in Ann Arbor, Michigan, the staff treat them like minor celebrities: free coffee, shout-outs from the owners, the works. “They are like rock stars,” says Bill Brinkerhoff, Argus’ co-owner, a tall, friendly businessman with a passion for local food. “It’s like, ‘Farmer John […]

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At Argus Farm Stop, the shelves are full of locally raised vegetables and fruit, herbs, beef, chicken, fish, and more. Beets from one local farm snuggle up against sunchokes from another, across eggs from yet another. Above many of the market’s displays hang smiling pictures of farmers alongside their produce.

And when these same farmers make a delivery to Argus Farm Stop, in Ann Arbor, Michigan, the staff treat them like minor celebrities: free coffee, shout-outs from the owners, the works. “They are like rock stars,” says Bill Brinkerhoff, Argus’ co-owner, a tall, friendly businessman with a passion for local food. “It’s like, ‘Farmer John is in the house!’”

Argus represents an emerging business model, the farm stop, which connects consumers and farmers in a local food web. A farm stop sells food on consignment from nearby small and medium farms, landing it somewhere between a grocery store, a farmers’ market, and a food hub. Here, farmers deliver freshly harvested produce to a brick-and-mortar retail shop with a full staff. The farmers set their own prices and keep the bulk of the revenue.

Bill Brinkerhoff, one of Argus’ founders. (Photo credit: Paige Hodder)

Bill Brinkerhoff, Argus Farm Stop co-owner. (Photo credit: Paige Hodder)

Farm stops operate quite differently from typical mainstream grocery stores like Kroger or Albertson’s, which rely on industrialized food systems and complex supply chains. They are also distinct from a farmers’ market, which requires farmers to either be there for sales or hire someone to sell for them. With farm stops, retail consumers have better access to local food, and farmers can spend more time farming.

It’s a small but expanding niche. At least six farm stops operate in the Midwest, and many of them opened over the past decade, including Bloomington Farm Stop Collective, in Indiana, and the Lakeshore Depot, in Marquette, Michigan.

At Argus, the hope is to make life easier for farmers. Too many small farmers quit, Brinkerhoff says, because “there is not enough money and it’s too hard. We are trying to change that narrative: to make it sustainable, economically, to be a small farmer.”

A Niche for Smaller Farms

Smaller farms in the U.S. are buckling under the weight of financial, legal, and logistical challenges. A farm could try to supply a grocery store, but the major chains don’t pay enough to cover the higher costs of independently grown produce. Even if a store did pay adequately, a small farm might struggle to meet licensing and regulation requirements designed with industrial farming in mind. 

“We have to trust that they are going to supply us, and they have to trust that we are going to take good care of their products.”

As a result, smaller farms are disappearing. From 2012 to 2022, the number of farms in the U.S. decreased by almost 10 percent, according to the USDA’s 2022 Census of Agriculture, while the average farm size increased 6.7 percent, from 434 acres to 463 acres. That has created a food system that may be more efficient, but is also less resilient. During the Covid-19 pandemic, the complex supply chains of large-scale systems proved vulnerable to shock, while smaller-scale operations were able to adapt and pivot. Such adaptability will prove essential as climate change continues.

In the meantime, the current industrial system is hard on smaller farm operators, who are forced “to be price takers instead of price makers,” says Kim Bayer, the owner of Slow Farm, which sells organic produce at Argus.

Farm stops can change the equation. Slow Farm, based on the north side of Ann Arbor, typically makes two deliveries a week to Argus from May to October: a small run on Wednesday, directly to the market, and a larger one on Sunday, for Argus’ community-supported agriculture program (CSA), with customers picking up their weekly boxes at the store. And, like all of Argus’ farm suppliers, Slow Farm earns 70 percent of the retail price for their food, at prices Bayer herself sets. That’s a significant difference compared to the average of 15 percent of retail going to growers who sell to supermarkets.

Kim Bayer, owner of Slow Farm, with farm managers Zach Goodman and Magda Nawrocka-Weekes. (Photo credit: Paige Hodder)

Kim Bayer, owner of Slow Farm, with farm managers Zach Goodman and Magda Nawrocka-Weekes. (Photo credit: Paige Hodder)

The model relies on a “mutual trust relationship” between the food stop and the farmers, Brinkerhoff says. “We have to trust that they are going to supply us, and they have to trust that we are going to take good care of their products.”  

Better Food, Better Access

For customers, meanwhile, farm stops supply ultra-fresh goods that are otherwise hard to come by.

In Michigan, corn and soy farming dominate the agricultural economy, and smaller vegetable farms are less common, says Jazmin Bolan-Williamson, the farm business coordinator at the Michigan State University Center for Regional Food Systems. So large grocery chains in the region often fill their shelves with heavily processed foods that are transported from thousands of miles away.

Farms supplying Argus, by contrast, produce a wide range of crops, including heirloom varieties. All of it travels only a few miles to arrive on the shelf. The food is not only fresher, but its carbon footprint is lighter, another boon.

The benefits of farm stops extend to larger groups, too. Argus hopes to become as a single point of contact for school kitchens in the community, making it easier for them to source locally grown food. This creates a network of support for a resilient local food system. And not just in farm country. The model can also help create those networks in cities, too.

In Rock Hill, South Carolina, for example, FARMacy Community Farmstop provides quality food to the city’s lower-income residents. A farm stop’s flexibility, size, and community-centered focus are uniquely suited to help, FARMacy’s founder, Jonathan Nazeer, says.

FARMacy employs a pay-what-you-will system, where lower-income customers pay what they can and others pay above sticker price to compensate. The farm stop has received funding from the South Carolina Dept of Local Food Purchasing Assistant for produce at the market and in weekly boxes.

FARMacy also cultivates learning and gathering around food, Nazeer says. In the seating area outside the store, FARMacy hosts concerts, workshops, and cooking classes. Here, people connect more deeply with what they’re eating, while they create community. When people value and understand their food, he says, “we empower them to take charge of their health and feel good about how they are participating in this system.”

Paving a Path for Farm Stops

Creating alternative food systems comes with its own set of obstacles, some of which are regulatory.

Farmers’ markets typically work under cottage food laws, which allow farmers to sell unregulated food as long as they are present for the sale. Farm stops, however, operate outside of this regulatory system, which can create some unusual challenges—and ad hoc solutions.

For example, in 2016, after receiving a complaint, the Michigan Department of Agriculture and Rural Development (MDARD) cited Argus for selling eggs from small farms that hadn’t processed their eggs in a licensed facility. Under Michigan law, unlicensed egg producers can only sell their eggs directly to consumers. An inspector visited the farm stop and seized 90 dozen eggs, according to the MDARD.

Over the following weeks, Argus worked with the department, local farms and experts, and elected state officials to find a way for the unlicensed farms to sell directly to customers. Now, Argus merely holds the eggs (in a distinct refrigerator) but takes no money; customers pick up the eggs they’ve purchased from farmers.

“MDARD has been working in collaboration and partnership with Argus Farm Stop for many years,” says Jennifer Holton, a spokesperson for the department. “It is a success story in Michigan from a farmer perspective, in that they provide a way for farmers to get their products to an enthusiastic, supportive customer base in an economically viable way that respects the limited time farmers have for selling their products away from the farm.”

Eggs from Shady Glade on display at Argus Farm Stop. (Photo credit: Paige Hodder)

Eggs from Shady Glade on display at Argus Farm Stop. (Photo credit: Paige Hodder)

Other challenges are financial and practical.

Establishing and maintaining a farm stop takes a lot of time and money, says Michigan State University’s Bolan-Williamson. It can be tricky to find the right building for a market, and it can cost millions to build a grocery-ready facility from the ground up, she says.

Getting a bank loan could prove difficult, too. It’s likely a bank would want to see local interest in a farm stop before lending funds, Bolan-Williamson says. She suggests that farm stops hold town meetings, gather signatures or even seek donations as proof of that interest.

Despite these challenges, Brinkerhoff says, if you find the right niche, a farm stop can be entirely supported by consumer demand. He and his partners founded Argus roughly 10 years ago with $180,000. Argus now operates two markets and two cafés, employs 65 people, and partners with roughly 200 local farmers, food producers, and artisans. In 2023, the store made $6.5 million in sales.

Argus is now taking a leading role in expanding the movement. Its success, and its galvanizing effect on local farms, provide a beacon: In the past decade, the acres of farmland in Washtenaw County—where Argus is located — actually grew, according to the USDA census of agriculture.

In March, Argus held the first-annual National Farm Stop Conference in Ann Arbor. The conference hosted roughly 120 participants from across the country, including existing farm stops, representatives from communities looking to adopt the model, and policymakers hoping to understand more about it.

They’re learning from each other. Nazeer, who attended the conference on behalf of FARMacy, says different cities can adapt the model to their needs, and each has unique strategies to share. In fact, after the conference, Argus visited FARMacy to learn more about its approach.

Senior representatives from the USDA were also at the conference; they connected with Argus and expressed interest in using the model to grow local food systems.

Tess Rian checks new herbs on display at Argus Farm Stop. (Photo credit: Paige Hodder)

Employee Tess Rian checks new herbs on display at Argus Farm Stop. (Photo credit: Paige Hodder)

Rebecca Gray, director of The Wild Ramp farmers’ market in Huntington, West Virginia, felt energized by the event. She says she recognized the chance to learn from successful, long-running farm stops, and appreciated how a span of a few days helped bridge the gap between politicians and small farmers. “It was a really great opportunity for these two groups of people to connect and learn about each other’s operations,” she says, and “for policymakers to see what their policy is actually doing.”

Besides hosting the farm stop conference, Argus also offers monthly hour-long webinars and sells three-day online courses for anyone interested in starting their own farm stop, plus private consulting.

Brinkerhoff is not looking to open more farm stops, but he remains committed to helping other communities do so. Farm stops are “efficient, effective, enjoyable, and affordable,” he says. “Any town that has a farmers’ market can do one.”

This article was updated to correct one of the sources of FARMacy’s funding.

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]]> https://civileats.com/2024/08/12/farm-stops-create-new-markets-for-small-farms/feed/ 1 17 Food and Ag Approaches to Tackling the Climate Crisis https://civileats.com/2024/08/05/17-food-and-ag-approaches-to-tackling-the-climate-crisis/ https://civileats.com/2024/08/05/17-food-and-ag-approaches-to-tackling-the-climate-crisis/#comments Mon, 05 Aug 2024 09:00:57 +0000 https://civileats.com/?p=57161 But as Civil Eats’ reporting has shown, the food and agriculture system is full of examples of how farmers, ranchers, fishers, chefs, restaurants, grocery stores, and consumers are addressing climate change, with strategies that sequester carbon, slash emissions, save water, reduce plastics, and open new markets. Farmers, for example, are experimenting with the wild seed […]

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Although the food system generates one-third of global greenhouse gas emissions, it has largely been excluded from the climate agendas of most governments. Only last year did the food system become a major topic of international debate, during the 2023 United Nations Climate Change Conference.

But as Civil Eats’ reporting has shown, the food and agriculture system is full of examples of how farmers, ranchers, fishers, chefs, restaurants, grocery stores, and consumers are addressing climate change, with strategies that sequester carbon, slash emissions, save water, reduce plastics, and open new markets.

Farmers, for example, are experimenting with the wild seed relatives of domestic crops that may be able to withstand extreme weather. Researchers have also discovered that kelp growing alongside mussels and oysters can act like a sponge, soaking up excess nutrients while increasing critical oxygen levels in surrounding waters. And lawmakers and the U.S. Department of Agriculture are crafting policies that support local food systems and regenerative agriculture.

Here are some of the most important and promising climate solutions stories we published this year.

An example of saltwater intrusion on the Delmarva peninsula. (Photo credit: Edwin Remsberg)As Saltwater Encroaches on Farms, Solutions Emerge From the Marshes
In the Mid-Atlantic, sea level rise due to climate change is already changing what farmers can grow.

These State Lawmakers Are Collaborating on Policies that Support Regenerative Agriculture
Progressive state legislators often find themselves in a David-and-Goliath battle against the conventional ag industry. One organization is equipping them with resources to support producers using regenerative practices instead.

Investment Is Flowing to US Grass-fed Beef Again. Will It Scale Up?
Rupert Murdoch’s Montana ranch is at the center of an effort to get grass-fed beef into mainstream grocery stores; others are using investments to build new markets entirely.

Photo credit: Jayme HalbritterAt Climate Dinners Hosted by Chefs Sam Kass and Andrew Zimmern, The Meal Is The Message
To create awareness and inspire action, their carefully curated meals feature coffee, chocolate, and other foods that will become costlier and more difficult to produce due to climate change.

Micro Solar Leases: A New Income Stream for Black Farmers in the South?
EnerWealth Solutions wants to bring the benefits of renewable energy to Black farmers and landowners in the Carolinas.

Can Taller Cover Crops Help Clean the Water in Farm Country?
In Minnesota, a local water quality program might serve as a model for incentivizing the next steps in regenerative farming.

 Regenerative Beef Gets a Boost from California Universities
The U.C. system is using its purchasing power to buy grass-fed meat from local ranchers for its 10 universities and five medical centers.

Timothy Robb inspects a pile of decomposing wood chips. (Photo credit: Grey Moran)Fungi Are Helping Farmers Unlock the Secrets of Soil Carbon
By tapping into underground fungal networks, farmers are learning how to build lush, spongy soil that supports healthy plants and stores carbon underground.

Florida Banned Farmworker Heat Protections. A Groundbreaking Partnership Offers a Solution.
The Fair Food Program offers the strongest, legally binding protocols to keep people safe when politicians fall short.

Vineyards Are Laying the Groundwork for a Regenerative Farm Future
A new study finding that regenerative practices build more soil carbon in vineyards points to a path for the industry to create broader models for agriculture.

Examples of crops and their wild relatives. (Photo courtesy of the Global Crop Diversity Trust)Seeds From Wild Crop Relatives Could Help Agriculture Weather Climate Change
The hardy wild cousins of domesticated crops can teach us how to adapt to a hotter, more unpredictable future.

New School Meal Standards Could Put More Local Food on Students’ Lunch Trays
USDA’s nutrition standards aim to support farmers by increasing the number of schools getting fresh fruits, vegetables, and meats from nearby farms.

Changing How We Farm Might Protect Wild Mammals—and Fight Climate Change
Nearly a quarter of U.S. mammal species are on the endangered species list. Researchers say farming with biodiversity in mind may help stave off further decline.

A farmer harvests coffee beans in a farm along the Mekong River in Thailand. (Photo credit: Sutiporn Somnam, Getty Images)Climate Solutions for the Future of Coffee
Farmers, researchers, and coffee devotees are refocusing on agroforestry and developing hardier varieties and high-tech beanless brews to save our morning cup of Joe.

Can Seaweed Save American Shellfish?
Seaweed farms on both coasts are beginning to take hold, tapping into decades of painstaking science, and could help shellfish thrive in waters affected by climate change and pollution.

Inside a re_ grocery store in the Mar Vista neighborhood of Los Angeles. (Photo courtesy of re_grocery)Zero-Waste Grocery Stores in Growth Mode as Consumers Seek to Ditch Plastic
Food packaging is a significant contributor to the plastic pollution crisis. These stores offer shoppers an alternative.

Rescuing Kelp Through Science
Breakthrough genetic research at a Massachusetts lab could save the world’s vanishing kelp forests—and support American kelp farming, too.

The post 17 Food and Ag Approaches to Tackling the Climate Crisis appeared first on Civil Eats.

]]> https://civileats.com/2024/08/05/17-food-and-ag-approaches-to-tackling-the-climate-crisis/feed/ 1 ‘Shelf Life’ Peeks Into the Nooks and Crannies of the Cheesemaker’s World https://civileats.com/2024/07/30/shelf-life-peeks-into-the-nooks-and-crannies-of-the-cheesemakers-world/ https://civileats.com/2024/07/30/shelf-life-peeks-into-the-nooks-and-crannies-of-the-cheesemakers-world/#respond Tue, 30 Jul 2024 09:00:39 +0000 https://civileats.com/?p=57066 Stillwagon’s strange philosophical musings on curd set the tone for Shelf Life, a new documentary about the parallels between cheese aging and human aging. Produced by Robyn Metcalfe and directed by Ian Cheney (whose films include King Corn and The Search for General Tso), Shelf Life premiered at the Tribeca Film Festival in June, where […]

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“Milk is one of the simplest things in nature,” says Jim Stillwagon, an eccentric cheesemaker standing in his cluttered kitchen somewhere in the Pyrenees. “When a child vomits on your shoulder, those are the earliest vestiges of cheese.”

Stillwagon’s strange philosophical musings on curd set the tone for Shelf Life, a new documentary about the parallels between cheese aging and human aging. Produced by Robyn Metcalfe and directed by Ian Cheney (whose films include King Corn and The Search for General Tso), Shelf Life premiered at the Tribeca Film Festival in June, where it won the award for Best Cinematography in a Documentary Feature.

Filmed in more than six countries over three years, Shelf Life takes us inside the work spaces of artisan cheesemakers and specialists to observe them at their craft: through the halls of underground cheese vaults in Vermont. Under the microscope with a cheese microbiologist in California. Behind the scenes of the World Cheese Awards in Wales. Into a children’s classroom in Japan for a cheese-making lesson. And to the cheese-laden dining-room table of an award-winning cheesemonger in Chicago (see “Five Questions for Alisha Norris Jones,” below).

Cheesemaker Jim Stillwagon in his kitchen somewhere in the Pyrenees. (Photo courtesy of Wicked Delicate Films)

Wonderfully diverse in scope, we even get to visit an archeologist’s dig site in Egypt to learn about cheese in the afterlife, observe a traditional hand-pulled cheese practice in Tbilisi, Georgia, and descend into the shadowy basement stacks of a cheese librarian in Switzerland. Metcalfe calls this remarkable cast of characters “the poets of the cheese business.”

Shelf Life captures the vast and complex universe of cheese, acknowledging its place in the food system without getting into its politics—even when there’s a lot to say: The global cheese market is estimated at around $187 billion, according to one report, but this monetary worth comes with a sizable carbon footprint. According to a joint study by the Environmental Working Group and the firm Clean Metrics, dairy-based cheese is the third-highest contributor to greenhouse gas emissions, trailing behind beef and lamb.

Some have advocated for vegan cheese as a potential solution to environmental troubles. But dairy-based cheeses play an important role in local economies and culinary traditions worldwide, enriching people’s stories and ways of life—something Shelf Life celebrates.

Although film is a relatively new medium for Metcalfe, her connection to the food industry goes back to her grandfather, Roy Diem, who worked with entrepreneur Bob Wian to build the first Bob’s Big Boy. Metcalfe grew up spending time at the restaurant, famous for its double-decker hamburger. She went on to study historical food systems at Boston University, where she earned her Ph.D., and taught modern European food history at the University of Texas, Austin. At one time, she conserved rare breeds of livestock in Maine.

Metcalfe has authored several books on the food supply chain, including Food Routes: Growing Bananas in Iceland and Other Tales from the Logistics of Eating (featured in Civil Eats’ 2019 summer book guide). She also founded Food+City, a nonprofit storytelling platform that delves into how cities are fed, and the Food+City Challenge Prize, a pitch competition funding food-tech startups around the world.

We spoke with Metcalfe recently about why she made the documentary, the future of vegan cheese, and how aging builds character both in cheeses and humans.

What inspired you to make a documentary about cheese—and why now?

The first urge to pursue this subject came from an unanswered question I had as I finished a book called Humans in Our Food. My interest in food, oddly, is not so much about the food; it’s about the systems that bring the food to the table. Often, they feel industrial and disconnected from humans.

One of my curiosities was, what are the food stories we’re not hearing? Who’s missing and unseen? I sensed that it was the people building pallets, working in food service, driving trucks, packing, and all of that stuff. I wondered if what we imagine about them is true—for example, that they’d all rather be doing something else. Or that they’re working for very little money, are pretty much exploited, kind of a sad picture, and not very smart. Some people think, “Well, if you were really smart, you would not be doing that work.”

What I did [for the book] was travel all over the world and look at a really simple dish, like a slice of pizza in New York or a rice ball in Japan. Then, I went to see who brought those things together. In doing so, the answer I got was, these unseen people are aspirational. For many immigrants in particular, it’s the way they get in and up and move onward. Some of them, surprisingly, love their jobs. Not all of them, but the assumption was so much one way, and I discovered it’s much more nuanced. One group I was really curious about was affineurs, people who work in caves. [You] might be familiar with going through a winery and seeing people who age wine, but not many people know who’s in caves aging cheese.

The second thing is that, in becoming older, I was really put off by the conversations that people wanted to have with me even a decade ago, which were, “Oh, are you still doing X?” It was all about decline and being careful and not taking any risks and certainly not building up, but designing down. It was disturbing to me. This is not what anyone wants to hear. And how much of it is a self-fulfilling prophecy, after all?

So, I’m holding this thought about how cheese ages and I thought, “I wonder if we can learn something about aging a cheese, which gets better over time or transforms [and becomes] what it wants to be in terms of character. Might we push back on this human conversation of decline?” Those two things are why I chose this subject. It wasn’t because I was a cheese lover who wanted to make a film about cheese and found a way.

Did making ‘Shelf Life’ turn you into a cheese lover?

At one point, I got a cheese certificate at Boston University because that’s how you learn about things. But if someone said to me, “Robyn, what’s the difference between these two blues?” or asked me to tease out all the different flavor molecules, I would be absolutely helpless. [But cheese is] a wonderful lens to look at life.

A cheese expert feels the rind that develops during the aging process. (Photo courtesy of Wicked Delicate Films)

What were some challenges you faced when filming?

It was a challenge getting [the cheesemakers] to talk about aging. I mean, how many people do you know who like to talk about aging? People, especially younger generations, want to be relatable and supportive, and they’re curious about being older, but it’s an awkward conversation.

(Instead,) everyone wanted to share their cheese [process]. We would get responses like, “Thank you for contacting us. This is how we make our cheese.” But we weren’t actually that interested in the how but more the why. That was very hard, because people are over the moon about cheese and want to talk about it. So, we spent more time getting to know our characters before they felt they had told us their story about cheese and would speak to us about other things.

Did you learn anything new or surprising from the conversations about cheese and aging?

Absolutely. There were a lot of really fun little paradoxes. Initially, we talked to a cheese-making nun who was featured in a New Yorker article [but didn’t make it into the film]. She had a very interesting spiritual approach to what’s going on with cheese. I was really surprised to see how you could draw a metaphor about cheese as a body. Generations of microbes transform the cheese. They eat the cheese, then they die, and leave it for the next generation of microbes . . . changing the landscape of that cheese as it develops into its character.

Also, I appreciated cheesemaker Mary Quicke’s comments about multiple peaking. People talk a lot about how I’ve “passed my peak,” “I’m not in my prime,” or “Are these the sunset years of my life?” I was surprised by her clarity and understanding that you have a lot of peaks, and you’ll have more peaks. There’s not a limited supply of peaks; it’s just a limited imagination.

Were any of the people you interviewed for the film concerned about climate change?

Some people were attaching sustainability to their farming practices—for example, Jasper Hill, in Vermont. But some of the cheese companies and cheesemakers we spoke to are so small-scale that, in most cases, climate concerns never came up. Jasper Hill uses milk from, shall we say, a largish dairy and sort of sits on the edge of artisanal and scale. That’s the conundrum, isn’t it? If you want to have good food available at a low cost to as many people as possible, then you have to get bigger. In Shelf Life, you can see that Jasper Hill already has a robot flipping cheese.

A quality control group in the underground cellars at Jasper Hill Farm in Vermont. (Photo courtesy of Wicked Delicate Films)

As a historian, were there specific experiences or people you encountered while filming that stuck with you more than others—for instance, the notion that cheese, for Egyptians, was a food they envisioned in the afterlife?

I could relate to the archeologist in Egypt trying to read artifacts and divine a story from them. Historians often don’t have the actual pieces of things and are always groping and learning how to tell the story. I was surprised to hear about the Egyptians’ concept of cheese, because you don’t read much about that.

I was fascinated by the use of old historic buildings being used to age cheese, like old breweries, for example, and some of the bunkers in Europe. Or weird places like subway halls. These repurposed spaces bring up a terroir sort of conversation about the minerals, the humidity, the bacteria, and all of that. I’m not in the cheese business, but all these moves for new sanitation standards—removing the bacteria and original wooden shelves where cheese has aged—are disheartening, because often it’s that magic elixir of all those things that make cheese special.

**  **  **

Alisha Norris Jones. (Photo courtesy of Wicked Delicate Films)

Alisha Norris Jones. (Photo courtesy of Wicked Delicate Films)


5 Questions for Cheesemonger Alisha Norris Jones

Shelf Life offers a glimpse into the life of Alisha Norris Jones, an artist and professional cheesemonger based in Chicago. Jones is the creative mind behind @_immortalmilk, an “underground” cheese shop that pops up at different locations, offering curated cheese boards inspired by various aspects of culture, from art books and Instagram to Jones’ mood and travels.

 

Her work has garnered acclaim, leading to multiple awards and social media praise. Recently, she took first place at the inaugural Cheesy Chopped Championship hosted by the Cheese Culture Coalition, an organization promoting equity and inclusion in the cheese industry. We caught up with Jones to learn how she got started, what makes a good pairing, and how economic status influences our relationship with cheese.

 

How did you find your way to the fine cheese business?

 

I’m originally from Boston and moved to Chicago about 16 years ago. I got my start in food and hospitality by working at Publican Quality Meats, serving and making coffee. I eventually became a pastry assistant.

 

I was a really bad pastry chef. I lasted about three months and left before I could get fired. But one of the things that caught my attention was working with the cheese case. I went to school for religion and anthropology and have always been interested in food and food justice. Cheese seemed like a really cool way to talk about justice, class, culture and also food, wrapped all up into one thing that’s a living and breathing product—because all cheese is still alive, for the most part, when it arrives on your plate.

 

From there, I fell in love with cheese, worked at a couple more restaurants, and then took a break from fine dining to work in the specialty department at Whole Foods. I ended up being there for about five years and realized I could go for my cheese certification and become more of a professional in this field. It kind of took off from there.

 

Tell us more about how cheese is a conduit to conversations about justice and class.

 

Almost every culture that can produce cheese, across the globe, does. It can be a sign of the elite and bourgeois—a person might only go to France for Brie or pay $300 for a tasting menu. On the flip side, cheese is what got us through industrialization. By preserving milk, a person could bring it to a factory and eat it over the course of a 12-hour shift.

 

It was also a way for people to survive through the ‘70s and ‘80s with government cheese. I think it’s fascinating that some folks to this day believe that cheese isn’t for them because it’s perceived as a white thing or a rich thing, when it really affects all levels of society. I can almost tell you where you grew up and what you’ve had access to through what your favorite cheeses are.

 

As far as justice, seeing the way that land rights can also factor into cheese makes me think about who we’re advocating for. Some cheesemakers have gotten into growing marijuana because they’re not getting dairy subsidies anymore or because their land is being encroached upon by large growers or multinational dairy companies.

 

As an artist with a background in anthropology, how do you approach curating cheese boards?

 

I think about the season, especially what’s available in produce and cheese. Then, I think about my mood. Say it’s early spring: A lot of beautiful Loire-style French goat cheese is coming out [then], so I’ll look towards France and get into French cheese culture, like French movies or French visual artists and pick up on whatever palettes and moods they’re using and incorporate that into the larger board.

 

How do you know when a cheese pairs well with something? What are you looking for?

 

I’m looking for a volume match. If I have a loud cheese, I want something that’ll either be just as loud on a palate, or through texture, to complement it. I’m also thinking about acidity—again, I want something that won’t overpower the cheese—and something interesting that you haven’t really seen before, without necessarily talking down to the person eating it. There’s been this trend of matching junk food with cheese, where I’m like, “This is cool, but we can be a little bit better about this. Let’s get some fruit in here. Let’s get out of the candy aisle.”

 

Cheese raises questions about climate and whether vegan cheese is better for the environment. Do climate concerns come up for you in your work?

 

In past years, no. But I am thinking about it now, especially after going to the American Cheese Society conference and hearing fellow industry folks say we need to talk about this. With droughts and hotter temperatures, there is a concern about the cows and what milk they will provide when they’re literally overheated. And do we have enough money to keep them in an air-conditioned barn, which is insane to think about.

 

There’s not one solution to the climate question. I think more folks should be eating better cheese; sometimes, that means eating vegan cheese. Some vegan cheese artisans are doing cool things informed by traditional cheese making, and there should be room for everybody at the table. But cashews and almonds take up a lot of water. [Vegan cheese won’t] solve anything unless we’re careful about climate altogether.

These conversations have been edited for length and clarity.

To find a screening of Shelf Life, or to host one, visit https://www.shelflifefilm.org/

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]]> https://civileats.com/2024/07/30/shelf-life-peeks-into-the-nooks-and-crannies-of-the-cheesemakers-world/feed/ 0 Bringing Back Local Milk, Ice Cream, and Cheese https://civileats.com/2024/07/02/bringing-back-local-milk-ice-cream-and-cheese/ Tue, 02 Jul 2024 09:00:21 +0000 https://civileats.com/?p=56817 The shop’s freshly churned ice cream—with surprising flavors like Foggy Pebbles, made with cereal-soaked milk, and Danish Butter Cookie—has been drawing crowds. Since taking over a long-shuttered creamery earlier this year, Jersey Scoops has given the sleepy downtown a much-needed boost; customers routinely spill over to the park across the road, cone in hand, creating […]

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At Jersey Scoops in Loleta, a small, unincorporated community in Northern California’s Humboldt County, the ice cream is as fresh as it gets. From pasture to parlor, its organic, butterfat-rich milk travels less than 10 miles, produced by a herd of Jerseys pasture-raised on the misty coast.

The shop’s freshly churned ice cream—with surprising flavors like Foggy Pebbles, made with cereal-soaked milk, and Danish Butter Cookie—has been drawing crowds. Since taking over a long-shuttered creamery earlier this year, Jersey Scoops has given the sleepy downtown a much-needed boost; customers routinely spill over to the park across the road, cone in hand, creating a potential reason for new businesses to fill the empty storefronts that once housed a cheese factory, bakery, and laundromat. Beyond Loleta, Jersey Scoops’ rainbow-labeled pints are making waves at local farmers’ markets, stores, and restaurants.

“We want to reinvigorate the community and revive Loleta’s dairy legacy.”

While revitalizing the community, Jersey Scoops adds a high-value outlet for a perishable product, strengthening the industry overall. But the owners of Jersey Scoops didn’t get here on their own; they leveraged a $60,000 grant from the Pacific Coast Coalition’s Dairy Business Innovation Initiative (PCC DBII) to secure both the space and equipment.

Despite the region’s history as a dairy powerhouse, locally made ice cream was previously nonexistent, says Thomas Nicholson-Stratton, who launched the venture with his husband, Cody. The ice cream shop is an extension of the Nicholson family’s sixth-generation, 120-acre farm in nearby Ferndale. Since taking over the dairy a decade ago and branding it Foggy Bottoms Boys, the couple has been bucking convention and helping their rural community navigate changing economic tides.

Foggy Bottoms Boys co-owners Thomas and Cody Nicholson Stratton pictured with their son at Jersey Scoops. (Photo credit: Will Suiter Photography)

Foggy Bottoms Boys co-owners Thomas and Cody Nicholson-Stratton with their son at Jersey Scoops. (Photo credit: Will Suiter Photography)

“We want to reinvigorate the community and revive Loleta’s dairy legacy,” Nicholson-Stratton says of the 2,200-square-foot, eight-employee operation, noting the town’s history as a key producer of powdered milk. The scoops are also a platform for amplifying the dairy’s “very deliberate name,” he says, derived partly from the farm’s location on the foggy banks of the Eel River, but also reflecting its owners’ sense of humor: “We want to diversify the face of farming, because there are few places where young and queer people can see themselves in the field.”

The PCC DBII is one of four such initiatives across the country, funded by the United States Department of Agriculture’s (USDA) Agricultural Marketing Service. The national program helps small and mid-sized dairy producers squeeze more value out of milk by diversifying their products and markets, reducing waste, and innovating packaging and processing. With family dairies drying up in droves—the U.S. has 39 percent fewer dairies than five years ago, despite the same number of cows producing 5 percent more milk—the support aids smaller players in countering the forces of an increasingly consolidated industry.

A crowd forms outside Jersey Scoops during its ribbon-cutting weekend. (Photo credit: Will Suiter Photography)

A crowd forms outside Jersey Scoops during its ribbon-cutting weekend. (Photo credit: Will Suiter Photography)

The DBII also aims to strengthen the economic health of small and rural communities, says project director Carmen Licon-Cano. Foggy Bottoms Boys ticks many of the initiative’s boxes, creating a local milk product, she says, while invigorating a struggling downtown and adding a fresh take on the industry. “They’re really a shining example of the program.”

Building From the Bottom Up

California, the nation’s leading dairy state, produces nearly a fifth of the U.S. milk supply, mostly on industrial farms in the Central Valley. These farms hold, on average, around 2,300 cows. (Herds in Wisconsin, the second-largest producer, average 177 cows.) Across the nation, mega-dairies are becoming the norm, as more farms mirror the Golden State’s confined animal feedlot operations (CAFO).

These highly productive operations maximize returns in an industry with crushing profit margins. However, critics highlight their outsized environmental impact, including excessive water use and pollution caused by concentrated waste, as well as greenhouse gas emissions. CAFOs also face scrutiny for animal welfare issues due to confinement and extreme production demands. Meanwhile, the perishability of dairy’s main product exposes the industry to supply chain disruptions. At the height of the COVID-19 pandemic, failed shipping logistics forced farmers to dump millions of gallons of milk.

“It’s difficult for small businesses like us to be profitable. A lot of people don’t understand why my cheese costs [four times more than] Walmart’s.”

The 2018 Farm Bill established the DBII to spur innovation in the dairy industry and address the downward trend in milk consumption nationwide, caused at least in part by the proliferation of other beverages, including plant-based milks. Since then, the USDA program, which is overseen by Agricultural Secretary Tom Vilsack, a former dairy industry insider, has added post-pandemic support, both financially and technically, for producers and processors.

The initiative aims to “uplift the dairy sector” and strengthen local markets, says Susan Pheasant, director of California State University Fresno’s Institute for Food and Agriculture (IFA), which hosts the Pacific Coast Coalition DBII. With $165 million in total funding to date, regional DBIIs address the specific needs of four individual markets—northeast, southeast, midwest, and west coast. The PCC DBII includes academic partners such as Oregon State University as well as industry groups like the California Dairy Innovation Center. In addition to piloting new equipment, recipes, and processing techniques, the universities facilitate worker training and certificate programs in cheesemaking, food safety, marketing, and other specialized areas.

Some regions have expanded their focus to include climate-smart ranching practices, including managed grazing and resilient cropping systems, which can mitigate the environmental and climate impacts of industrial livestock production. But that hasn’t been the PCC’s focus, Pheasant says. As the last DBII to be established, in 2019, the region has received significantly less funding, so it has only focused on dairy processing. The PCC’s relatively modest grants target small and mid-sized operations, she says, to create an equitable field for producers.

For smaller enterprises, however, even modest grants can be transformative, Pheasant says. One artisan cheesemaker, for example, used a $100,000 award toward a cheese cutter that creates precisely measured wedges, eliminating an onerous manual task and allowing them to tap a new market that operates on uniformity and volume. And, because family, minority, and women-owned businesses often face greater challenges in securing capital, the funding can be “a real game changer,” she says, enabling them to compete at a far greater scale. “It’s a story that gets replicated through these small producers,” she adds.

“As an artisanal creamery, we need products that can really differentiate us from larger [operations],” says Todd Koch, owner of TMK Creamery in Canby, Oregon. Half an hour outside Portland, the 50-acre family farm is known for its ice cream and freshly churned cheddar, made from the milk of 20 pastured-grazed cows and sold a stone’s throw away at the farm stand and in a few local restaurants.

Several years ago, Koch collaborated with Oregon State University to develop a vodka distilled from whey, a byproduct of cheesemaking. “Cowcohol” has become one of TMK’s signature products, enabling the creamery to diversify with a premium, shelf-stable offering while minimizing a costly disposal problem.

Using a $140,000 DBII grant, TMK Creamery is now developing a filtration system to fully extract their whey’s remaining lipids and proteins—which are fed back to the cows, another savings. “It’s difficult for small businesses like us to be profitable,” Koch says. “A lot of people don’t understand why my cheese costs [four times more than] Walmart’s.”

“We’re an important fabric of these rural communities.”

These innovations often have ripple effects. At Nico’s Ice Cream, in Portland, Oregon, owner Nico Vergara concocts his frozen treats using a specialized blender imported from New Zealand. The machine swirls scoops of fresh fruit into the cream—both sourced from farms in nearby Willamette Valley—to create “a light and airy, soft-serve-y texture,” Pheasant says. “It’s one of a kind.”

In just three years, the 25-year-old entrepreneur, who started off with a seasonal pushcart, has opened two shops and now distributes pints to about 60 grocery stores in Oregon and Washington. Using a $40,000 DBII grant, he’s acquired an additional fleet of machines and is working toward nationwide distribution. With flavors that nod to Vergara’s Latino background, such as chamoy, a pickled fruit-and-pepper sauce, and Tajín, a brand of chili and lime seasoning, the company aims to broaden its product line and cater to an increasingly diverse consumer market.

With a third store in the works, Vergara’s success reflects the country’s voracious appetite for dairy—and the industry’s capacity to satisfy it. Despite waning milk consumption, Americans still consume a lot of cheese, yogurt, butter, and ice cream. Between 2021 and 2022, the average annual consumption of dairy products rose by more than 12 pounds per person, to an average of 667 pounds. And though the science is inconclusive around the health impacts, dairy products remain a staple in food assistance programs as a source of protein and other essential nutrients.

As the ballooning demand continues to shape market forces, the shift towards fewer, larger farms is inevitable, says Charles Nicholson, associate professor of agricultural and applied economics at the University of Wisconsin, Madison. With smaller-scale dairies harder hit by labor shortages and fluctuating milk prices, “this long-term trend would be hard to change with public policy or private initiatives [alone],” he says.

Image courtesy of Foggy Bottoms Boys

A few sleek Jersey cows from the Foggy Bottoms Boys pastures. (Photo courtesy of Foggy Bottoms Boys)

Nevertheless, the DBII and similar programs play an important role in supporting individual businesses and local communities, Nicholson says. And although his research found that diversifying milk production through more complex processing isn’t a sure path to profit, concentrating innovation close to the source tends to reduce the financial risks.

Ultimately, maintaining a diversity of production practices and locations bolsters resilience within the industry, Nicholson says, making it less vulnerable to disruptions in regional supply chains and climate-related issues. Consumers also benefit from greater access to a broader array of local and regional products.

The PCC also supports innovation through a larger lens, says PCC’s Lincon-Cano, providing office hours and technical assistance in equipment training and testing, as well as developing business and marketing plans. And by offering resources such as webinars and certificate programs in Spanish, the expanded access helps diversify the industry’s enterprise base, she says, which remains largely white despite the large number of Latinos in the greater workforce. Together, these strategic investments can contribute to a resilient, less consolidated system, one more closely tied to local economies and communities.

More Eyes Per Acre

As one of California’s oldest cheesemakers, Rumiano Cheese has a storied presence in the North Coast’s dairy shed. The company sources organic milk from 23 family farms, all of which pasture their herds within a 100-mile radius of the company’s Del Norte County cheese plant. “We’re an important fabric of these rural communities,” says Rumiano’s chief executive officer, Joe Baird, noting that many of the farms (including Foggy Bottoms Boys) supply them with milk. Many of these connections go back decades, he says, “so we don’t want to screw it up.”

Rumiano is using a $200,000 DBII grant to develop packaging for ready-to-serve and party-size cheese trays for the growing convenience market, which typically depends heavily on plastic. The funds will go towards retooling existing equipment to make new containers with more sustainable materials and less polymer, Baird says, and distinguish the brand from conventional competitors.

With industrial-scale operators flooding the market with “literally a billion pounds” of cheese, Baird says, innovation is vital to the survival of smaller producers. The diversity of players helps foster innovation, “just like tech and Silicon Valley,” he adds. Local dairy also supports the North Coast economy, which has been impacted by price collapses in cannabis, one of the region’s primary cash crops.

Smaller, family-run operations also have a deep commitment to their land and herds, Baird says. Organic and independently certified to meet animal welfare standards, these producers maintain regenerative practices, grazing cows in rotated paddocks to improve soil and pasture health.

These approaches often run counter to the commodity-driven model of CAFOs. Although pasture-based operations can vary in both size and practice methods, foraging requirements tend to limit herds to the hundreds, not thousands, says Steve Washburn, professor emeritus at North Carolina State University’s department of animal science and an expert in pasture-based and organic dairy production.

Run well, smaller-scaled systems have several advantages over confinement operations, Washburn says. Proper rotational grazing relies on pasture as the primary forage, cutting feed costs. Additionally, because cows spread manure uniformly across the paddocks, the waste enriches the soil and emits far less methane than it would decomposing in a collection pool.

Perhaps most importantly, the promotion of more small dairies creates a healthier agricultural ecosystem. The more dairies, the more farmer “eyes per acre,” Baird says, referencing Wendell Berry. “That’s why we’re so committed to supporting the viability of family-scale farms.” And without support for innovation, he adds, “this ecosystem is very much at risk.”

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