A drop in the bucket

My, my, it's been a whirlwind of a week so far. I've been so focused on catching up with friends and family here in the District that I seem to be a bit behind on blogging about the amazing sustainable food work I encountered along the final on-the-road leg of my research. (Yes, I'm riding Ollie around DC these days, maybe a mere 10 miles some days, but the bikeable feasting continues.) For those who've been patiently waiting for the skinny on Appalachia, specifically southwestern Virginia, here's the first of two posts....

Abingdon, VA provided the setting for Barbara Kingsolver's insightful Animal, Vegetable, Miracle. The book has drawn attention to local food generally, and the food scene in Abingdon/Meadowview specifically, in recent years. But before Kingsolver's book -- which, if you haven't read it, I highly recommend doing so, though if you borrow someone's copy I'd try not to take notes in pen in the margins (sorry Jeanne!) -- there was another champion for local food and local economies around these parts. A man so capable and knowledgeable and determined to fix things as to be something of a force of nature in the region. And though it took a number of attempts at contacting him before I at last managed to chase him down, my conversations with Anthony -- at the farmers' market, at a 4th of July barbecue, and finally at his organic farm -- made trip #3 over the Appalachian Mountains totally worth it. (Thank *you*, Mike, for the lift to Charlottesville, sparing me a 4th trip over those persnickety mountains.)

Now, farming is hard work. Organic farming is harder still. Running an organic farm, writing regular columns for three local newspapers, starting a sustainable business development organization, and raising a family at the same time is, well, you'd have to be Anthony Flaccavento to pull it off. (Good lord, does this man ever sleep?) He's amazing, this mover and shaker. And yet, when pressed, the hardworking, outspoken, and yet entirely personable farmer insisted that in light of the entrenched agribusiness model that our country subscribes to he feels the advances and successes that he has been a part of constitute little more than a drop in the bucket when it comes to overhauling the food system. I respectfully beg to differ.

It was from Anthony that I learned about Appalachian Sustainable Development (ASD) -- the nonprofit that he helped to start back in the late 90s to empower marginalized rural populations and foster stronger local economies. Have you ever heard of a truly ecologically sound logging company? How about a program to help tobacco farmers convert to raising organic produce or free-range chickens? (How does one convince farmers that this is a reasonable, profitable switch to begin with?) Or a means of pooling the crops from a number of small farmers to collectively sell to supermarkets in the region for a fair price? ASD has proven that these models can work. (I'm hoping that the pilot programs proposed in our country's healthcare reform legislation have similar success. We need proof-of-concept models. What's that? You're right, I guess I haven't gotten on my healthcare reform soapbox in some time. Um. Right. Back to the related matter of healthy people and economies....) Anthony's concern seems to be that the victories on the road toward healthier communities are too small, that the progress being made in little pockets here and there around the country -- and there are lots of pockets I've discovered, and likely hundreds more I'm not even aware of -- is too slow. As things stand, small organic producers simply cannot compete with the dominant economic system that favors large-scale farms and a cheaper-is-better mentality. People are quietly starting to favor more sustainable practices in individual communities, but things must also change at the policy and subsidy levels as well or we're looking at band-aids rather than long-term solutions. Well, at least that's my take away message from our conversation.

I could listen to Anthony all day. (He couldn't talk to me all day, though, since he was busy, you know, farming -- even the photo I snapped here was an action shot!) In many ways I felt like I was listening to Michael Pollan's farming twin brother. Anthony's a bit shorter and has markedly Italian features, but the points he made echo those of Pollan (and Kingsolver). Actually, he's been saying these things for much longer, walking the walk while talking the talk. As a successful working farmer and a small business developer, he's got added street cred that gains him respect from small farmers and policymakers alike. Though he relinquished the reins of ASD a little less than a year ago, Anthony still educates and advocates for more sustainable food and economic systems, and through his consulting business has begun to reach out beyond his immediate region. He's gone on to work with farmers and market developers around the country while continuing to work his plot of land in Abingdon. He may think his work a mere drop in the bucket, but I think this farmer's making the right kind of waves.

Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

Farm to four-top

I've been hearing about CSAs -- Community Supported Agriculture -- for quite some time. Some years ago I recall my friend Yochi and I sitting on his living room floor discussing whether or not it made sense for us to split a CSA share from one of the few options in the DC area. (This was years before the Washington Post published a convenient list of CSAs in the area and back when I had a refrigerator. Ah, memories.) These days there are thousands of CSAs all around the country. It's exciting to see individuals, couples, groups of friends, and families making the decision to directly support their local farms by purchasing a share. But how about larger buyers like restaurants, that could really help boost the local farm economy by guaranteeing a market for small producers? Is it even possible to run an eatery that entirely (or even mostly) sources its ingredients locally? Well, it turns out the answer is yes. Enter, the RSA -- Restaurant Supported Agriculture.

In Chicago, I remember chatting with Derrick, of the scrumptious Lula Cafe, and learning of periodic chef visits to local farms, including the urban City Farm, and regular scouring of the city's many farmers' markets for seasonal ingredients. But the first time I heard the term "RSA" was when I was up to my elbows in bike grease from changing a flat tire and happened to walk into Julie's office where she was meeting with chef and local food advocate Dave Swanson in Milwaukee. The two were in the middle of a meeting (and, as I said, I was covered in grease) so I didn't chat for long, but the brief explanation I got from Dave was enough to inspire me to learn more about the farm-to-restaurant connection. The Milwaukee-based program fosters connections between farmers and chefs, and Dave helps interested restaurants work out the financial and logistical pieces of the puzzle. But there are also a growing number of bistrots who are independently working to source their food locally. As I've made my way westward, when I am fortunate enough to find a place that isn't too cost prohibitive for me to splurge on a meal (or, on occasion, be treated to one), I've been doing my best to learn how innovative restauranteurs connect with local growers. There are some common challenges among restaurants, but also viable models for success. In coming posts, I'll be looking into some of the innovative farm-to-table connections I've discovered along the way....

To market, to market

Have I mentioned my concern about the long-term economic viability of organic farms? I've asked a lot of farmers about it. I've asked food activists and co-op produce buyers about it. I think I probably even mutter about it in my sleep these days. (Maybe the grumbling's what keeps the bears away from my campsite through the night. And here I thought it was all of the dirty laundry I had lined the inside of the tent with.) There are thousands of devoted organic farmers all around the country working long, laborious hours to get healthy, responsibly produced food to their communities. Most of these are small or medium-sized operations that have barely a handful of people to help with planting, mulching, weeding, and weeding, and weeding -- rainy year -- and harvesting. Who has time for marketing? (There have been workdays when I've been so exhausted at the end of the day I could barely spell the word markzzzzzz....) And yet, I learned from Matt, who along with his partner Pat runs Coyote Run Farm, the fledgling sustainable food system will fail without it.

On the ride from the food security conference in Des Moines to his farm in Lacona, and as I helped out with chores around the farm, Matt and I talked a good deal about some of the financial challenges facing farmers. Now, nobody goes into farming for the money, just like nobody goes into teaching for the money, but it should be an occupation that earns enough to support the farmer and her family. It seems that many these days are starting or joining organic farms because "it's the right thing to do" for the community and are finagling ways to make ends meet for the short-term expenses. I don't disagree with this impulse, but I worry about how the farms are going to support themselves in order to buy land, build a home/ barn/ greenhouse, acquire fencing and irrigation supplies, afford insurance and repairs, be able to pay enough people fairly to help with the work, and not be in debt for the rest of their lives. (This is, of course, not even taking into consideration a collapse of the market or acts of god.) At least they're not beholden to fertilizer, pesticide, and seed companies every year, as conventional farmers are, but it still takes a chunk of change to start and maintain a farm.

Some are given land through various means (grants, land trusts, generous family members, benevolent wealthy folks hoping to have their land used for something worthwhile), but most have taken out loans to buy or lease the farmland. Others are homesteaders or those who grow extra food on the side, who consider sales at the market or to a few CSA members an opportunity to earn a little extra cash but not something to depend on for their livelihood. Many have second jobs or off-farm partners. (Matt acknoledged that he is fortunate enough to have a position as part of Drake University's Agricultural Law Center with a schedule flexible enough to accommodate his farming endeavors while Pat works full-time with the land and animals.) Food production takes a lot of work -- have I mentioned the weeding? -- and because of the relatively small scale of these operations there is not much money coming in. How can these smaller farms compete with the big guys who sell conventionally grown food at an unsustainably low price and have at their disposal a seemingly limitless advertising budget? (I mean aside from a more equitable governmental farm subsidy system, which is fodder for a whole other series of blog posts....) It takes something like 10 years to establish a farm, Matt suggested, and at the rate we're going most of the small farms starting up these days won't be around that long.

Organic farmers consider themselves food producers, land stewards, activists, but very few see themselves as small businessmen and women. Terms like scaling-up, marketing, consumers, and networking smack of the large-scale, bottom-dollar capitalist system that got us into the current food crisis we are trying to fix. (No, I'm not a Communist, but thanks for asking.) I'm not suggesting that we corporatize regional food systems, but I do think that some basic economic principles apply if these small businesses are going to flourish. The most successful farms that I have worked with -- in terms of financial stability -- seem to have a few things in common. These are the very things Matt enumerated as crucial components:

1. A consistently high-quality product. Folks may be willing to pay a fair price to try something once because it's in line with their philosophy, but they'll only continue to buy it if it's good.
2. A niche market. You need to sell something they can't get elsewhere. In the case of Coyote Run, there are rare (and delicious) heirloom vegetables, free-range eggs, and heritage turkeys.
3. Loyal customers. This means that when competition arrives, customers don't want to go elsewhere.
4. Getting the word out. People need to know you're around and know what you're selling.

Aside from a listing in Local Harvest, Buy Fresh Buy Local, or another general organic farm directory, very few small farms do much by way of marketing their products beyond having a sign at their stall at the farmers' market. Some farmers simply refuse to pony up the $50 for the Buy Fresh Buy Local directory listing and market stall sign. I've worked with some farmers who have complained about being pestered to join up with their local chapter, their reasoning often stemming from a belief that they don't really get anything out of the $50 membership and/or a resistance to being affiliated with a larger group that is not in line with their values. (Incidentally, local chapters seem to vary widely in their practices. It seems that some do much more outreach and market development.)

More people are buying more local, seasonal food than they have in quite some time. The agricultural tide may be turning. Even the USDA is launching initiatives like "Know Your Farmer." It's hip to eat locally these days. (If it wasn't, mainstream media wouldn't keep running stories on it, and the food co-op in Decorah, Iowa wouldn't be able to sell organic carrots from Iowa for more than the organic carrots from California.) There is a growing market out there. But as with most trends -- and I speak here as if I'd not talked my way out of the requisite economics course in college, but Matt confirmed my hunch here -- the "locavores" will decrease in number in the not-too-distant future unless farmers are able to make a good enough case for continuing to support them. It's as much about farmers and eaters getting to know (and trust) each other as it is about the actual food being sold.

Show me the money

This weekend included my first meal of spaghetti and homemade venison meatballs (yes, Bambi -- my former vegetarian self is still reeling) and my first foray into the world of the next generation of farmers via the Pennsylvania Association for Sustainable Agriculture's (PASA) annual conference. Both were made possible by my dear cousin Caroline and her boyfriend Gary, an organic garlic farmer in the Poconos.

PASA was great. I found that everyone I spoke with was eager to share their knowledge. Not in the "look how much I know" kind of way -- contrary to my earlier conference experiences at, say, the Modern Language Association annual meetings (if you want to ever feel truly illiterate, I recommend that you check these out) -- but rather along the lines of "I'm so glad you asked because I've been thinking about that, too." I learned the basics of crop rotation (how, when, and why), the benefits of urban gardening (from community building to beautification of bombed out lots), and celebrated backyard gardening (apparently you can grow enough to feed a person year round on just an eighth of an acre -- mom, dad, I'm helping you develop a bigger vegetable plot in the backyard). I'm still trying to work out the difference between tilling (bad?) and aerating (good?), but I'm sure that will get cleared up at some point.

Some of the more interesting conversations I had over the course of the day were about the financial aspects of sustainable farming. The first of these occurred with the grass-fed dairy farmer I happened to sit next to at lunch. (The cows he raised were grass-fed, not him.) He explained to me how he'd run a conventional dairy for years, but how recently he'd decided to overhaul his whole operation. It wasn't a moment of enlightenment about animal welfare or environmental stewardship that served as the impetus for the conversion. His epiphany: there's a market for it. About a decade ago, he told me, he began hearing rumblings of a growing demand for grass-fed dairy. He did some calculations. He consulted with his son who had recently finished school with a degree in business and who, for the first time, was taking an interest in the family business (my understanding was that this interest came out of the sustainable nature of the project). And so he moved ahead. It was a major financial risk. He had to hire significantly more workers to manage the now 300-strong herd in this more labor-intensive arrangement. Now, he said, he's sorry it took him so long to make the switch. He's elated that the business has brought the family together and he's proud to employ a skilled, local workforce. He has started reading about the nutritional and environmental benefits of his methods -- knowledge that bolsters his confidence beyond the financial rationale. (At this point, having consumed a pitcher and a half of water, I hopped off to the ladies' room. I returned to the table to discover that he and his wife had left and I berated myself for not writing down his name or the name of the dairy beforehand. Note to self: bring notebook and pencil everywhere. And drink less water.)

My second memorable conversation was with our friend Jim, with whom we were carpooling back from the conference. (Call me a slacker, but I was not up to biking to State College, PA, in the snow quite yet.) While I'd sat in on a session on the flourishing community garden programs in downtown Philadelphia (which I'm hoping to learn more about), Jim had been hearing about the plight of CSAs (Community Supported Agriculture programs) in the region. There are many forms a CSA might take, but my general understanding is that community members buy a "share" up front (usually in the $400-700 range) and then are supplied with a weekly box of fresh, local produce over the course of the growing season (usually April or May-October). Seems like a great deal for everyone. The issue that arose at the end of the session, it turned out, was the question of financial sustainability: could a CSA be, if not "profitable" by traditional business standards, at least financially independent? At least in the case of the groups represented on the panel, the answer seemed to be "no." One depended largely on outside grants to subsidize the costs involved; another was something of a pet project for a farmer who didn't seem too concerned about the monetary gains or losses. My question is: are there CSAs out there that can serve as viable business models? I don't mean that CSA managers need MBAs and fancy cars and performance bonuses -- certainly not -- but is there a way to set things up so that growers are not merely scraping by (or, worse, operating at a loss)?

The good news is that local produce is becoming more available more often and in more places around the country. CSAs are catching on. The Washington Post Food Section recently came out with a listing of CSAs in the DC metro area. I hope to speak/meet with some of the amazing people who run these programs. If anyone (beyond my two loyal readers: mom and dad) is connected with a CSA in your area -- as a volunteer, manager, participant in some aspect of the program -- I'd love to hear from you!