The Underground Farmers’ Market conceived by Iso Rabins of forageSF is a gathering place for cooks, foodies, and those who want to share their wares with the public but don’t have the means to participate at a regular farmers’ market.

Attendants were encouraged to bike to the event, sample and buy some homemade goodies before settling down to watch selected short films made on non-professional devices ranging from cellphones to web cams.

Some highlights of the market included Raw Daddy’s, selling raw, vegan cone-filled treats.  With one bite of the lemon macaroon cheesecake cone, my preconceptions of raw food were completely changed.  Who’d ever think raw could be so sinfully good?

Flaxseed Cones

James Hall aka Raw Daddy serving up some of his raw, vegan concoctions

Then there was mmm, butter! serving delicious batches of flavored butter made from small batches of organic cream.  The maple and bacon butter was especially good.

mmm, butter! offerings

forageSF had its own offering of pork belly from Marin Sun Farms sandwiched in fluffy buns with pickled veggies and wild onions.  The pork belly bun was excellent: the meat was tender and flavorful and went very well with the acidic crunch of the pickled veggies.

a close-up of the pork belly bun, yum!

There were many great vendors, all with interesting stories to tell about how they got to the Underground Farmers’  Market.  For many, it’s about a passion for food, especially food prepared with interesting and quality ingredients—from local farms, home grown, or freshly foraged.  Here are some pictures of other vendors and the event:

Goat Cheese from Flosa Creamery

Sandwiches and bread from Challahback

Kraken Candy

Making fresh dosas

Ladies of Luscious Liquids

a crowd around Maggie May's Bacon Sweets

bacon IPA caramels

attendees noshing on platter of food including bahn mi burgers from KitchenSidecar

Crowd at the market

Talking with the vendors at the Underground Farmers’ Market really made me think about my own passion for food.  It was refreshing that many of the vendors were in there 20’s and 30’s and already engaged in socially responsible ways of preparing food.  They prove that cooking the slow way can be delicious, inventive, hearty, and intensely satisfying, not only for the body, but to the taste buds.

The challenge we  face in our daily lives is to allot time out of our busy schedules to cook and experiment with food.  This an especially important challenge when there are children in our lives.  CNN recently reported nearly 1 in 5  four-year-olds are now obese.  While the problem is multi-fold, the family environment remains an important piece to the puzzle.  If we instill our passion for food in our children, chances are down the line, they will be make better choices.

Cooking should be playful, inventive, and worth the additional time and effort it takes.  So next time you are in the prepared food aisle at the grocery store, take a minute and consider your alternatives.  Cook with the children in your lives, take them to farmers’ markets, teach them to be inquisitve and curious about food.  As the Underground Farmers’ Market shows us, there are many ways to get involved.  So get out there and whet your appetite for slow food!

So where a typical seder would end with a round of “next year in Jerusalem,” I prefer instead to toast to a better here, to next year in peace. And there is so much work to do before we get there. I don’t want to take this opportunity to write about a particular case of injustice, there are many. I want instead to urge you to take the time to recommit yourself to work for justice. Whether you are celebrating Passover, Easter, or the weekend take this time to remember your responsibility to heal the world. As our country deals with the aftershocks of a health care debate that was at times successful and at other moments shamefully ignorant and hurtful, we all must look around at our community and toast to a better year next year and to our fight to get there. So whether you want to lead a campaign to reduce reliance on bottled water in your neighborhood, or read an article detailing the neocolonial impulses behind the biotech push in Africa, or maybe even enter the world of the televised Food Revolution led by media darling Jamie Oliver to see how the mainstream is defining real, good, fair food and what you may have to add, or stage a bake-in to protest the strange New York-based trend against home baked goods in schools, it is all worthy work. What we eat, how we eat, where we eat, and with whom we eat can and should bring us into a conversation about advocacy, access, justice, and community. But I know that sometimes it is hard to do, it is sometimes overwhelming. Sometimes people spit on and insult those who are working for a better quality of life for our citizens. Sometimes people would rather rally against than rally for. But you will have allies. Those people who sit down to eat with you, those are your allies. Begin the conversation here. And do not get too overwhelmed. It is sometimes okay to have your matzah with chocolate.

And what about preventive care? Not much beyond what many state health departments already offered. The implied benefit is that with the promise of insurance, more people will take advantage of doctors’ services before the issue becomes a crisis. But there was one, minor attempt to consider preventive care in the bill. And it reveals that within Congress, there may be a dim recognition that our food system has something to do with our health. The Wall Street Journal blog “Washington Wire” posted an article Monday about a provision within the bill “requiring restaurant chains to disclose calorie information on menus.” Because these requirements first have to go through the FDA, menus won’t see changes for a few years. Of course, reactions from the restaurants are mixed but the movement to get information into the hands of the consumer isn’t new. And in fact, it seems, it isn’t helpful. An article by The New York Times published last October reveals “Calorie postings don’t change habits.” The study was conducted by professors at NYU and Yale to test the impact of labeling laws in New York City and found, “that people had, in fact, ordered slightly more calories than the typical customer had before the labeling law went into effect, in July 2008.” So, the provision is headed in the right direction but going about it in the most delicate way. The thinking seems to be, leave it up to the consumer and do as little damage as possible to the private food industry. But, as the study shows, we don’t understand the consumer. Human beings are not rational actors, food is not just a matter of calorie counts, and the “consumer” is not a neutral actor with equal access to all products. If we want to address the connection between health and food, it cannot be done through this minimalist philosophy of intervention that imagines a simple surgical incision can heal the whole body. Calories, cost, convenience, familiarity, marketing, information, etc. all factor into our relationship with food. Slow Food embraces the recognition that the most important information about food is hardly its calorie count. Health is not a numbers game. It is not a matter of converting individuals to a lower intake level. Health happens on the scale of the community and we need provisions that recognize this.

But what does the home mean for the 35% of U.S. households that participate in food gardening? In the New York Times Magazine today, Peggy Orenstein made a compelling argument that some of the zeal for the household scale farm comes from a group embracing the ideas of “femivorism.” Femivorism provides stay-at-home moms the opportunity to find autonomy and satisfying labor at home (in addition, of course, to the satisfaction of having a family). It is a way for families to come closer to sustainability while negotiating gender equity. Orenstein warns that even the wires of a chicken coop can be confining in the end but overall she seems impressed with the efforts of homemakers to completely challenge the idea of home. I too admire that radical rethinking and I think it offers a window of hope for Americans to save the meaning of home, the process of housing. But my skepticism always finds a reason to worry. While I think it is important work to reclaim our homes, our foods chains, and our families I am worried it represents a retreat from public life. As Orenstein notes, it is often the earnings of the husband, modest but critical, which makes possible this movement. But this is not always possible. Families with less money, single parents, renters, and other groups face a huge obstacle when it comes to home farming. I worry this obstacle will only continue to grow if we stand by and allow our public goods to be privatized, watching the death of our public safety net, the same net that was shakily born out of the Great Depression. We must not value the homemaker over the service worker. We must not forget that the need to fight for labor protections, a fair minimum wage, and other social services still exists. This steady informalization of the workforce is something UC Berkeley Professor Ananya Roy has termed the feminization of labor. It seems the house is now the respectable place for the feminist female to occupy herself, whereas the workforce is for less valued members of society. I certainly do not blame the various new food movements for these developments. I blame all of us. We must find an effective way to give everyone the opportunity not necessarily to own houses and create capital but to make a home in the fullest sense of the word while supporting a strong public sector.

It’s difficult to even imagine topping the slow feast offered up at Slow Club on Thursday evening February 25th, but I honestly felt our hosts did just that with their genuine conviviality. Together, Owner Erin Rooney and Chef Matthew Paul provided Convivial Table with an experience that will be remembered and re-savored by all our diners for a long time to come. It was truly that special.

I won’t even attempt to describe the food beyond saying that it was abundant, inspired, varied, and delicious. There was soup, appetizers, antipasto platters, two separate salads preceding a choice of entrees and desserts. Without saying as much (he didn’t need to) the message emanating from Chef Matt was clear: “I love what I do, and I’m eager to share as much of it as I can with you.”

Before the meal even began, both Erin and Matt circled the table and personally introduced themselves to every guest. Each conveyed a commitment to making the evening special for us. As the different platters of food arrived, Matt was there to explain each element to our attentive group of diners. He discussed his sources, reasons for pairing specific ingredients, and complete explanations of individual preparations. “I roast the sunchokes in a hot oven for about fifteen minutes to bring out their natural sugars and begin caramelization,” he explained, to an appreciative guest, “and then switch them to a lower over for another fifteen to twenty five minutes. But less firm vegetables only get the high heat. They’re in and out quickly or they’ll turn mushy.”

These sort of exchanges went on throughout the evening. But it wasn’t just Matt’s depth of knowledge that was so impressive, it was his easy smile and willingness to share anything he could to accommodate. Before the night was through, he was promising “I’m here five nights a week, often six. Come back again. Say hello. Ask more questions. I’ll do my best.” That same sense of hospitality was echoed by Erin.

I read a poll recently that asked diners why they return to a particular restaurant. Cuisine, price, quality, ambiance, and location were all mentioned, but by far the number one answer was personal attention: “they make me feel welcome,” “they know me,” or “they treat me like family.”

I was acutely aware the following day that I’m already looking forward to a return visit to Slow Club. The food is delicious and reasonably priced. The room is stylish and inviting, plus, we really must appreciate any hip San Francisco restaurant where it’s easy to park nearby. I love that they are committed to fighting the good fight; sourcing locally and sustainably whenever possible. And I appreciate their continual support of Slow FOod San Francisco, so there are ample reasons to go back. But it occured to me that the number one reason I’m looking forward to returning is, guess what, they made me feel welcome. There is much to be said for superior customer service.

I heartily recommend a visit to Slow Club. You might even mention that Slow Food sent you. They’ll feed you well and treat you right. (But no, we’re not related.)

http://www.slowclub.com/ for more.

I wish I could let the poets speak for themselves here, but it would be impossible to recreate the impact of last night. The poets each spoke about food in incredibly different ways, reminding us of what food can-and can’t-do. The poets included host Poetri, Lynne Alicia Elman, Joshua Merchant, and Kirya Traber as well as Josh Healey and Ramona “Mona” Webb. They might have mentioned foods we thought we were familiar with, eggplant or a lamb chop, but each artist presented the experience anew and used the medium of spoken word to do that in different ways. And so the second floor of the  Museum of the African Diaspora became the site of that complicated process of cultural production, consumption, appropriation, modification, narration, and exchange. It happened between each poet, between each member of the audience. It sounds too simplistic right? That we could come to a nuanced appreciation of ourselves and others across cultural and personal lines over the course of a single night? But I have this suspicion that this is how it happens, measured in one night increments, in stanzas and lines. It happens when we listen to each other.

And this listening happens in a variety of ways. Josh Healey read a poem about seven years of vegetarianism and a single lamb chop at a friend’s barbecue. He built up the defense, the explanation of vegetariansim and then he slowly let it fall apart. Holes in the fortress came in the form of a stubborn bowl of grandma’s matzo ball soup. She insisted on using chicken broth because that was how she had always done it. And suddenly the bowl was transformed. She was not offering chicken broth with matzo balls and perhaps a few carrots, she was offering herself, her past, her present, and asking that her future be honored. So to say food is complicated is as useful as saying culture is complicated, but there is no other way to spin it. It’s up to us to work through these things, to articulate and narrate our own identities and to listen to and honor the narratives of others.

I’m not an aspiring spoken word artist but I am going to try to start recording my food memories, save them in a cookbook, and hand them down to my children with the family recipes. I encourage all of you to do the same. And if you need inspiration, be sure to check out the rest of sfnoir’s events including a Meet and Greet with vegan soul food chef Bryant Terry tonight 6pm-8pm at Marcus Books in the Fillmore and a Wine and Food Gala Saturday night 7pm-11pm at 101 Second St. to sample Caribbean, Soul, Cajun, Vegan, Southern, Creole, and African food.

In this latest project a total of 65 Mangalitsa, Ossabaw, Berkshire, and Mangalitsa/Berkshire crosses were fattened up at Shasta Valley Farms in Gazelle, California on varying combinations of apples, tritcale, almonds, and acorns. The goal was to see which breed-feed combination would make the best-tasting meat raised on that piece of land. The idea of infusing flavor into live meat takes me back Les Blank’s 1979 film Garlic Is As Good As Ten Mothers, where Alice Waters, founder of Chez Panisse restaurant, is shown feeding heads of garlic to a sow, only so she could pass her garlic milk onto her suckling piglets — a testament to the old adage, “You are what you eat.”

Forty of the pigs were slaughtered and those in the know were given the opportunity to purchase shares, each of which included smoked bacon, loin chops, and a heap of sausages. Shares were picked up at a day-long event held at Blue Bottle Coffee Company’s roastery in Oakland, where additional pig parts were sold to the public – heads, back fat, lard, trotters, not to mention the better-than-butter lardo (salt-cured lard). Frozen lardo can be sliced thin and eaten on slices of baguette —a sublime melt-in-your-mouth experience that leaves you wanting more. Fresh grilled sausage sandwiches and samples of the lardo made this a tasty event in a piggy sort of way.

So who won the breed-feed trial? “Our general conclusions were that the age of the animals and the size of the animals had as much to do with their value as the breed,” says project coordinator, David Gumbiner.“  We also found that the Crosses (Berk/Manga) were the best, because they retained a lot of the positive characteristics of the heritage fat, but grew faster and more reliably, like the Berkshires. Also, they were deemed excellent for charcuterie.”

Pork fans from all over came to get a share of the best pig that money can’t buy. “The response to this event was overwhelming,” says Gumbiner.  “There’s a huge interest in farm-direct pork. People want to know where their meat is coming from.” Avid home cooks and hobbyist sausage makers alike could not pass up this opportunity and walked away with pounds of fat back slung over their shoulders, as visions of salami danced in their heads.

“The new regulations, which go into effect in June, are much more specific. They say that animals must graze on pasture for the full length of the local grazing season. The season will be determined by local conditions and agriculture authorities, like organic certifiers or county conservation officials, not by the dairy alone. While the grazing season must last at least 120 days, in many areas it will be much longer. The rules also say that animals must get at least 30 percent of their food from pasture during the grazing season.”

All in all, it is a victory for organic. Large dairies will now have to do what small dairies were often already doing and consumers can have a bit more confidence in the organic label. But one thing left unmentioned by both the Times and Marion Nestle’s victorious entry for The Atlantic  is the role these local “agriculture authorities” will actually play. Of course the nature of these bodies will vary depending on location but just to offer an example of what agriculture authorities may entail and the incredible extent of poorly written legal documents, I would like to draw your attention to Ohio. The voters of Ohio recently approved a constitutional amendment creating the Ohio Livestock Care Standards Board. This board was presented as a humanely-minded regulatory body that would improve conditions for farm animals. And who wouldn’t vote for that, even if it is in the rather extreme form of a constitutional amendment? Fortunately, the more sinister details of the issue have begun to enter the public debate. To start, the body is not an elected one. It is comprised of the state department head of agriculture as well as ten individuals appointed by the governor meant to represent family farms (left undefined), consumers, veterinarians, and “someone who is knowledgeable about food safety.” These individuals are then given the authority to set the standards of care. The constitutional article tries to include details that would deflect criticism aimed at the reach of the Board with notes like, “The state department that regulates agriculture shall have the authority to administer and enforce the standards established by the Board.” I’m not sure how comforting that should be when the head of that same department sits on the Board. Fortunately, there is a move to put this amendment back on the ballot because, even if the Board does not become a reflection of big agriculture business, there is no accountability or opportunity for citizen participation.

This is not to say the new USDA requirements are not a victory. They are/ It is just to point out that phrases like “the season will be determined by local conditions and agriculture authorities, like organic certifiers or county conservation officials, not by the dairy alone” should be considered carefully. County conservation officials sounds good. As do livestock care standards. But the mechanisms are intentionally obscure to deter individual resistance. Inform yourself about your local management bodies.

Read Up:             http://www.legislature.state.oh.us/res.cfm?ID=128_SJR_6 http://food.theatlantic.com/nutrition/organic-milk-loophole-closed.php http://www.nytimes.com/2010/02/13/business/13organic.html?scp=1&sq=pasture%20rules&st=cse

The National Black Farmers Association is still fighting to gain recognition for the discrimination faced by the black farmer. In what The New York Times calls the “biggest civil rights settlement in American history,” black farmers won a settlement of $2 billion as payment for subsidies and loans that had been denied them due to racism. That class-action suit was in 1999 and the payments have yet to be made. President Obama has requested that payments be included in the new budget and Agriculture Secretary Tom Vilsack has stated his commitment to righting this wrong. But, as the February 7th New York Times editorial details, this same budget proposal was included and denied last year. The National Black Farmers Association is trying to make sure that doesn’t happen again. Its president, John W. Boyd Jr. led a rally in Washington D.C. today as the end of a string of rallies held across the South. He is asking that the outstanding $1.15 billion be included in the budget.

Clearly, the struggle for civil rights is far from over. The phrase “forty acres and a mule” stands as a reminder of our unfulfilled promise. It is a promise of a land that is my land, your land. It is a promise where the mountaintop meets the farm.

I was thinking about school lunch last night at the Food From the Heart event at the Ferry Building. It was a beautiful event. Commuters wandered into the building and found red and purple linens stretching to either end of the hall. Spreads of ceviche, pastries, empanadas, oysters, meats, mushrooms, fondue, and, of course, wines welcomed visitors into a packed party and out of the gray rain. I used to hate eating in the school cafeteria. It was so rushed and always unsatisfying. I’m wasn’t a shy kid but situations like that, with kids yelling and teachers scolding, made lunch an event to be avoided. My dad used to come by and rescue me and my siblings when he could just so we could eat on the benches out front with him.

So what made the crowd so different last night? Ed Bruske wrote about Michelle Obama’s “tall order” for school lunches in the Washington Post today. He took a trip to a D.C. school to see how lunch is made, served, consumed, and sometimes not consumed. At the end of all this, he asks how we get from here to there. What made lunch in a small town in Ohio so different from last night’s event? This may be an unfair comparison. The vintners and vendors profit from their quality and creativity, whereas school lunches are a public service whose only beneficiaries are big agricultural business lobbies. And then of course there’s the discrepancy in wine consumption which may have done something to elevate the mood last night along with the live music and tango dancing. But even in the middle of the rush, vendors excitedly answered questions, vintners discussed late-season harvests, and people smiled even as they bumped into each other. So, in addition to the vegetables, the reintroduction of cooking, and the participation of the child in every stage of the eating process, from seed to stomach, perhaps we need to encourage kids to taste, perhaps we need to tell them about the breads they’re eating, perhaps we need to give them the opportunity to respond. Bruske points out that the cafeterias rely on consumption to secure aid and so they look to kid-friendly versions of edible. But what if kids were encouraged to actively taste and not passively consume throughout the day, tasting the difference between a green bean brushed with cool dew and that same green bean warmed in the afternoon sun? What if we made them write it down, pushed them to expand their vocabulary and be articulate? What if we offered the time to develop an understanding of pleasure based not on ignorance but on knowledge? Maybe the pink, sugar frosting wouldn’t hold the same appeal anymore. Maybe lunch time could feel a little more like a meal.

Write it down. Be articulate, write to your representatives:

http://org2.democracyinaction.org/o/5986/p/dia/action/public/?action_KEY=828