School food revolution

Poor-quality (not to mention downright repulsive) cafeteria food has long been the bane of schoolchildren, nutritionists, and educators around the country. In recent years, the issue has been getting attention from community activists, celebrity chefs, Slow Food, and the First Lady. And it turns out that last week was not only DC Farm to School Week, but also School Lunch Week. As such there have been all kinds of fun, food-related educational activities going on around the country. (See? It was more than just my group's apple tasting station at the DC Farm to School kickoff event. Those local WV apples do look tasty though, no? Go on and try one.)

School food is finally getting the attention it deserves -- I mean, cripes, how are kids supposed to learn when they're eating junk, or nothing at all?? Local policies like DC's Healthy Schools Act are allowing schools to put more money where their mouths are, allotting funds to get healthier food to more schoolchildren. While the additional money for food, training, and infrastructure going toward improving food quality and access in our public schools pales in comparison to, say, what we spend on our country's military or penal systems, it is something. We're talking a rise of 10 cents per child per meal in DC schools, with an additional 5 cents for locally-sourced ingredients. It may not sound like much, but considering the 2009 $2.68 per meal rate, those pennies can add up.

There also appears to be an unprecedented empowerment of schools and students to demand better food...and some of them are getting it. One of the success stories I recently learned about is the work being done right here in New Orleans. It involves some unlikely partners including a city-wide, student-driven activist group (known as "Rethinkers" in the most recent issue of Edible New Orleans) that has been issuing school food report cards and corporate catering giants like Sodexo (a group which I have long held in low esteem for their poor quality and unfair labor practices, but who seem to be turning over a new leaf -- which is good, even if the leaf turning is entirely profit-driven) changing their offerings accordingly. School food has long been contracted out to corporate catering giants like Sodexo, Chartwells, and Aramark. While I am inherently suspicious of the ability of such groups to produce anything resembling fresh or high-quality food, it turns out that technically these Food Service Providers (FSPs) are supposed to answer to their customers -- the school district, school boards, and even students. It is possible for a school district to demand something better, and groups like New Orleans' FirstLine Schools (which include Samuel Green Charter School, home to NOLA's Edible Schoolyard, which I visited last May) are demanding exactly that from their provider, Sodexo: three servings of fresh fruits and veggies each day, a salad bar, healthier versions of native cuisine. (And let me just say that to describe the native cuisine here in NOLA as "delicious" is a vast understatement.)

Want to know what's going on with school food in your area? For national programs, I'd recommend checking out the National Farm to School website (www.farmtoschool.org) and the First Lady's website (www.letsmove.gov).

For my fellow DCers, there are resources like the DC Farm to School site (http://dcfarmtoschool.org/healthy-schools-act/) and councilwoman Mary Cheh's website (www.marycheh.com). Incidentally, I spotted both Ms. Cheh and USDA deputy secretary Kathleen Merrigan -- both champions for improved school food -- at last Tuesday's DC Farm To School Week kickoff event. Neither stopped by my apple tasting station, though, so I didn't have a chance to gush about their work in person. Maybe I should drop them a postcard saying as much when I get to Italy tomorrow.

Apologies in advance for a week unplugged from the crackberry, but international data plans are, shall we say, astronomically expensive. Also, I'll be busy gorging myself on local wine and gelato.

More on the Community Food Security Coalition and Terra Madre conferences to come when I return from Italy.... Oops, sounds like they're boarding my flight. Ciao regazzi!

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Gelato makes the world a better place

Ah. Ahahaha. Yes. I have made my way back to New Orleans and I must say that it is so far seeming like one of those perfect days: 80 degrees, clear and sunny. Not like the miserable, grey, 50-something drizzle I left behind in DC yesterday. (The District seems to be having an identity crisis, behaving more like "the other Washington" lately.) I was cruising around the Garden District today on a mountain-bike-on-loan from Gary -- *with* a corresponding helmet-on-loan, in case you're wondering -- looking for a spot to hang out and do some writing on DC Farm to School Week when what should I stumble across but the best gelato spot in town.

I'd actually heard of La Divina's locally-sourced deliciousness while researching dining options for myself and some friends in town for this weekend's Community Food Security conference, but hadn't noted its location. When I saw the sign on my way up Magazine Street I took it as, well, a sign. Kismet. And I was feeling a bit peckish....

With flavors like bananas foster, avocado, pumpkin, sweet potato pie, guiness, and aztec chocolate (and about a dozen others that I didn't sample...yet) rounding out the list with more traditional offerings like hazelnut and cappuccino, I can see why the shop draws locals and celebrities alike. With cream sourced from a nearby grassfed dairy operation and all-natural, largely local ingredients -- the chocolate imported from France is a-ok in my book -- it is a locavore's dream. A stop in seemed legit. I mean, if I'm continuing to learn about local food around the country, it seems only right that I should research and support small-scale producers like these guys. And it's good background for my upcoming trip to Italy. And did I mention they had *pumpkin* gelato??

I learned during a chat with Jason, a West Virginia native and one of the knowledgeable gelato gurus on his way to drop off a special order at Dante's (one of seven local restaurants that special order customized editions like last week's port and gorgonzola), that the inspiration for new flavors often comes from his twice-weekly trips to farms and farmers markets. New flavors were born all the time, and they were constantly rotating them in and out of circulation. Limited edition gelato? Good heavens, I'd no time to waste! His colleague behind the counter didn't even bat an eye as I sampled nearly a third of their flavors, in the end settling on a "piccolo" -- a small, two-scoop waffle cone with aztec chocolate and pumpkin.

It was a generous portion, as you can see, and thus my plans to write, as well as my plans to keep food from spilling onto my lap, were postponed a bit. Soon, though, you can expect a posting on DC Farm to School Week. First I need to figure out how I got chocolate on my elbow....

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Alternative education

I'd first heard of Our School at Blair Grocery -- an alternative school for at-risk youth focusing on urban farming and social justice in the still underdeveloped (and after Hurricane Katrina swept through, rather infamous) lower 9th ward in New Orleans -- from some food justice folks about a week before I rolled into the home of the Saints. The setup sounded like a grass roots, home school arrangement, and had been started by a larger-than-life educator and advocate known locally simply as "Turner." Needless to say, I was intrigued.

Nat Turner, I learned later, is a passionate, articulate force of nature, a mover and shaker in the company of folks like Will Allen (voted one of TIME Magazine's 100 most influential people of 2010), and destined to become a household name in food justice circles soon, if he isn't already. Actually, quite a bit of the work being done at the school is modeled closely on Mr. Allen's work at Growing Power, and I have heard about the school in New Orleans incorporating a regional Growing Power training facility into its future plans.

I haven't met the man, but the Blair Grocery school site was imbued with the strong presence of its founder. The teachers all spoke very highly of the dynamic man who had started the project, currently housed in a structure that was the neighborhood's first black-owned business many years ago (the Blair family's grocery store -- ironically in a neighborhood now miles from the nearest grocer), with the goal of empowering young men and women through challenging classroom lessons and incorporating hands-on learning to produce clean, healthy food in (and for) the local community. And yet I don't get the sense that he's all big-headed from the 20 seconds I spoke with him. While the one name thing kind of reminds me of Che or Madonna -- who needs two names when you're that famous, right? -- when I called a number a friend had given me for the school, I believe it was the cell number of this "Turner" who nonchalantly passed along the number of another teacher at the school. (I thought it was the general school number. Doh.) In retrospect, I am moderately mortified to have simply asked for Cory's number. That's like calling Obama's cell number and asking for the White House mail room. Okay, maybe not that extreme -- Cory is also an amazing teacher -- but still, after more recently watching a YouTube interview with him explaining the drive behind the desire to create this alternative setting for at-risk youth to cultivate successful, well-educated adults, you can maybe glean that I feel a bit sheepish for not engaging Mr. Turner in a discussion of the school's philosophy, curriculum, and progress thus far. I'm lame. And entirely too shy to call back.

Luckily, I managed to connect with Cory on Monday morning and Ollie and I headed over to volunteer for the afternoon. Conveniently, I arrived just before lunch time, so after some work with Kyle stitching some coffee sacks onto the newly built shadehouse (it looks kind of like a greenhouse, but it's meant to protect young plants from extreme sun, wind, and high temperatures), Cory asked if I might want to help make lunch. Well. As there were no students in attendance that day, the longer time we took on the preparation and consumption of lunch with the group of teachers and volunteers meant I had a chance to learn about the school a bit more. I was impressed with the intelligence and enthusiasm of the group, as well as with the intensity of the topics covered in the curriculum: gender equality, race, immigration, healthcare policy, food access. These were lessons for kids, some of whom are considered one offense shy of entering the prison system. The space, the lessons, the student-teacher ratio (roughly 1.5 : 1), the fact that students in different wards of the city are picked up and brought to school by the teachers, make the school unique. And, I hope, a successful alternative education model.

After lunch I helped to seed about 20 flats with lettuce, peppers, mustard, and more while Cory and Kyle (who has years of experience working on professional development with educators nationwide) led a staff meeting and lesson discussion. Brennan, the garden manager, joined me a bit later to harvest a sizable bagful of arugula seeds from plants that had been drying in the rafters. (Seed saving, yay! The process involved stuffing the brittle arugula bunches into a large burlap coffee sack and beating it against the wall to loosen the seeds. I'm pretty relaxed these days, but I can imagine this being a pretty good tension-relieving activity, FYI.) By 4pm, it was time for Ollie and I to hit the road in an attempt to beat the rush hour traffic and make our way to Todd's place uptown. Not a bad way to spend a Monday, though I would've enjoyed seeing the classes in action. Maybe next time I figure out a way to get myself back to New Orleans. And there will be a next time....

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Rice field of dreams

I recently spoke with a rare breed indeed: a sustainable rice farmer in southwestern Louisiana. For those of you unfamiliar with The Deep South, it is a region known for many things, but organic farming is not among them. (A friend finishing up a degree in agriculture at LSU was lamenting earlier today that not a single stall at the Baton Rouge farmers' market offers organic produce. Not one, not in these parts.) Racial tension, fried twinkies, grits, the Blues, okay. But composting and integrated pest management? Hardly. I am bummed that I learned of the farmer and his rice operation, west of New Orleans by about a four-day bike ride, too late to visit. (If I am to make it back to DC in early July, I need to start moving north. I don't want mom and pop Vincent to start giving me a hard time about pushing my return date back... again.) But after our phone conversation I have determined that the next time I am in Louisiana -- and I do hope to make my way back to the sweet, sunny South again -- I will make it a point to spend at least a week or two learning and working (and cooking) with Kurt Unkel.

Seriously, I have come across few others as articulate and thoughtful on matters ranging from food production to agricultural policy to cooking. (Okay, maybe I am a little biased because our conversation included a recipe exchange, but I'm telling you, the driving force behind Cajun Grain is a food activist in the making, whether or not he knows it.) The anomaly of a 3rd generation southern rice grower told me about his decision to convert his fields to meet organic labeling requirements a few years ago, and while he's not sorry for the transition that produces a superior brown jasmine rice -- superior in terms of flavor and nutritional value -- he is fighting an uphill battle to scratch out a living. Ah yes, once again I come across a farmer trying to do the right thing while barely making ends meet for his family. (At just under $35 for 16 pounds of his amazing rice delivered to your door anywhere in the country, he's not a price gouger by any stretch. "Good food at a fair price" was the impression I got during our talk. I know it's delicious because I picked some up at Hollygrove Market last weekend. And I'm totally ordering a shipment when I get back to DC.) He may not make a lot of money, he chuckled as he confided, but with pastured beef and pork supplementing his organic produce and rice (third after oats and quinoa, in terms of nutrition), at least he eats well. And the smattering of grad students and interns who have come to work with him eat well, too. He has built his field and, slowly, they are coming.

Kurt believes in nurturing people and the land through responsible, sustainable growing practices. But the means to designate the way he's been doing things, I learned, is in jeopardy. It was this renegade farmer with his charming drawl and passion for homegrown tomatoes who told me about legislation that is currently up for discussion that means to define and standardize "sustainable agriculture." (If you've been following my periodic rants about inane "education standards" set by disconnected state-level administrators, you can probably guess how I feel about a checklist for "sustainability standards" set by large national interest groups like the Farm Bureau.) If it is what Kurt thinks it is -- an expensive standardizing of requirements and broadening of criteria reminiscent of the USDA's certification process for organics a few years back -- the farmer argued that the term "sustainable," which fundamentally informs his day-to-day practices and which his loyal customers support, will be rendered meaningless.

I am not a policy wonk. I just don't have the head (or the stomach) for it. But I do think there is something wrong with a system that discourages farmers from practicing *actual* sustainability (managing soil and water, minimizing chemical and fuel inputs) in favor of a labeling system that, at the very least, lets agribusiness off the hook ("oh sure, we compost some stuff and, um, use lower octane fuel for our enormous tractors") and misleads consumers ("oh, well that must mean the company has my health and the health of the planet in mind"). Ha! Heck, under such criteria, GMOs like Roundup-Ready crops might be conceivably considered "sustainable" because they cause less soil erosion from weed killing machinery traffic.

Has anyone heard about this piece of legislation?? I'll be darned if I can find accurate, timely information on it, but it hardly seems like the kind of thing the passionate food advocate and grower would just make up. From what Kurt related during our conversation, they may well get away with it, as all of the voices involved in the policy discussion represent, or have ties to, large-scale conventional agriculture. The farmer confessed that he's about ready to stop using the term "sustainable" altogether, just as farmers like Joel Salatin have abandoned "organic" certification labels for what they are calling "beyond organic" -- a shorthand for a philosophy and set of practices that prior to this latest policy debate Kurt Unkel might've termed... "sustainable."

In the end, the rice farmer and I agreed that labels are on their way to becoming meaningless, that the only way to truly know what's in your food is to shake the hand of the farmer who grows it. (Or at least talk with him on the phone. Or, of course, grow it yourself.) I look forward to a continuing dialog on the matter of sustainability certification as it develops. In the meantime, it warms my little heart that there are farmers like Kurt out there in rural Louisiana growing good food and educating those willing to listen, and amid the changing agricultural climate continuing to do things [insert replacement term for "sustainably" here]....

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The green arm of the law

I have, historically, not been a fan of law enforcement. Some of this comes from an inherent distrust of "authority" and those wielding weapons. Some of it comes from my time living in Mexico, where it seemed I was the only one of my friends not shaken down by the local cops. I learned to blow right past the impromptu "security checkpoints" where folks were waved over on the side of the road by the policia. (Actually, one night on the drive home from Mexico City I got a flat tire at 2am and a cruiser stopped to help me put on a new one. When the two officers asked for payment, I pretended I didn't speak spanish and showed them my NYC drivers' license...rather than my Mexican license. "No speak-o spanish-o." Lo siento muchachos.) But along my current trip, law enforcement personnel have proven more helpful. The local police came to check on me at a campsite where I'd been harassed by a couple of drunk guys in central Iowa; I've been advised of safer, more bike-friendly routes in southern California by a state trooper; I was pointed toward a safe church lawn where I might camp in West Texas by the local sheriff's office. And there's the latest: greenthumbs at the sheriff's office. That I hadn't expected....

This past Tuesday, I had the pleasure of sitting in on a meeting at the sheriff's office in Lafayette, LA to discuss potential neighborhood garden projects. It was an idea initiated by the sheriff's daughter, who I learned is finishing up a degree in agricultural studies and who suggested that her dad contact folks at EarthShare to see about partnering on a few pilot projects. When you think about it, this actually makes total sense: community gardens help foster safer communities, so it's in the interest of the local lawmen to encourage them. (Have these guys read Seedfolks? Students, if you're reading this, you know what I mean.) It seems the sheriff's office and community watch folks agree.

So how will the whole thing work? Cops pulling weeds? Not exactly. The sheriff's office, as I understood things, would handle community outreach (something EarthShare has been short on staff to pursue), identify potential garden sites (largely housing projects and church properties in their jurisdiction), and provide the initial muscle to build the gardens. EarthShare, for its part, would help recruit volunteers and garden managers, act as a conduit for funds (it's an established 501(c)3), and extend its liability insurance to the sites as needed. The city planning department would help with site identification and planning -- Sanjay, who represented a local group of planners at the meeting, hopes that it will serve as a model for community action and empowerment. Stacey, over at the Nature Station, would draft the legal agreement and identify other possible stakeholders and their roles. Is this an exciting -- and unusual -- partnership, or what?

Lafayette is reclaiming its agricultural roots, building safer communities through neighborhood gardens. I hope to hear more about the progress of the project -- Community Roots -- in coming months. Gardening: bringing hippies and the law together at last.

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You're an anti-tentite!

[This subject heading's for you, little brother.]

What is it with camping in this part of the country? I may look like a vagabond, but I'm no kind of riffraff. Harumph.

Take Winnie, TX, where I slept just a few nights ago. The one RV park in town wouldn't allow tents. "Discrimination!" I spluttered. "How am I penalized for not needing a giant space and sewage hook-up for my gas-guzzling mobile home??" (Okay, that was an interior monologue, I was actually very polite.) Luckily there was a well-traveled, and thus fairly safe, city park, which aside from its lack of showers (or doors on the bathroom stalls) worked out just fine. There were even water spigots and electrical outlets at each site. And it was free. Not bad. Stinky but safe: it could be worse.

[Note: I am not anti-RV. In fact, I have a number of friends who travel by mobile home. Some of them are actually kind of snazzy, like Joel's veg-powered trailer. But come on, if I'm willing to pay too much for an RV spot to pitch my little, no-impact tent, why can't I camp there?]

Then there was Orange, TX. I had hoped to make it over the border to Vinton, LA yesterday, but the stormclouds roiling overhead for hours had me nervous that a major storm was going to break before I covered the final 30 or so miles. (I'd already biked more than 50 and wasn't moving too fast.) So I decided to stay in Orange for the night. Oh my. Again, the one RV park I found online refused to allow tents. Suggestions I received from folks when I stopped in at the Farm Bureau office to ask for help included:

1. Tenting on a boat ramp: on the bad side of town. This was suggested by an older guy who worked for the county and who admitted that *he* wouldn't camp there, but at least it was lit up at night. Thanks, sir.

2. A homeless shelter: they take anyone. Except I'm not technically homeless, and also it was run by a pretty evangelical church group that would probably feed me pentacostal bible teachings along with my boiled collards -- no thanks. Also, we couldn't find a number to call them. And there was the issue of the woman giving me directions there being, well, terrible at giving directions. (She'd insisted it was only 4 miles to Vinton, Louisiana; in fact, I learned when I passed through there earlier today, it was 35. Thanks but no thanks, lady. I'm glad to have dodged that bullet.)

3. The city park: this, in a town known for assaults and shootings. It was another winning suggestion from the gentleman who came up with the boat ramp scheme. Does this guy have it in for me? He seemed nice enough....

4. The hospital: if I stashed my bike somewhere -- where?? -- I could pretend I was waiting on someone to come out of surgery and doze in the waiting room. This was suggested by a not-particularly-helpful, not-quite-local woman.

Seriously, I know I've slept in haylofts and on plastic tables in abandoned gas stations, but these were the worst suggestions I'd ever heard. I didn't mention my research, but maybe they sensed that I was plotting the end of conventional agriculture as we know it....

Luckily, a stop by the local Chamber of Commerce office set things right. Danielle called the other RV park in town and Sallie, who runs things there, said I was welcome to pitch my tent for ten bucks. Not only that, but there was a laundry room *and* a shower that I would be more than welcome to utilize. Ah, it's good to have friends in high places.

There are some challenges I'd foreseen before I started this trip, but I had no idea how challenging finding a place to sleep would be. I mean, nearly all of California's parks had closed due to budget cuts, you may recall, but not allowing tents at campgrounds that are open in other parts of the country? I'm hoping I have better luck avoiding anti-tentites as I make my way through The Deep South in coming weeks....

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