Don’t judge a book by its cover, they say. Well, I’m guilty. When I first glanced at Janet A. Flammang’s The Taste for Civilization, I was simultaneously smitten by the lovely image of a few leaves of arugula caught on a fork, roots and soil still clinging to the slender green leaves, and daunted by the subtitle: “Food, Politics and Civil Society”. Having been engaged in just those three topics for the past several years in a number of capacities—as a teacher, farmer, garden program designer, national program advocate and traveler, to name a few—I had a hard time imagining how one slim volume would tackle, much less try to build a cohesive argument while engaging with, the entire complex web of our food system. I turned the page and began reading, and almost immediately I saw that I had in fact, for once, correctly judged a book by its cover.

Flammang is an articulate writer and a skilled academic. Her book draws upon a tremendous range of sources, from interviews with community members and farmers to high-level intellectual thought from philosophers, political scientists, sociologists, epidemiologists… suffice it to say, she’s done her homework.

I found myself nodding my head in agreement as she declares that we, as a society, must make more room for “food work”—anything that must be done in order to grow, purchase, prepare and consume food—and that the skills picked up when one regularly sits and eats at the table with friends and family—conversation, manners, food culture, family and community cohesion, etc.—are inarguably valuable to building active citizens and healthy eaters. And yet, as I read, I had the distinct sense that Flammang was writing this book more because she personally loves food and the booming local and sustainable agriculture movement than because she found one central point worth defending.

My skepticism that Flammang was attempting to tackle too much in one book proved deserved. She did indeed try to tackle the whole of our interaction with the enormous topics of food, agriculture, civic engagement and eating culture with far-reaching umbrella titles including “Household Foodwork”, “Table Conversation”, “One Woman’s Revolution”, and “Community Food”. In enthusiastic agreement with her points, I too use food as a lens to criticize gender roles in domestic and career life, to urge us to slow down in this fast-paced society, to encourage deeper engagement in our communities rather than our cell phones and iPads. And her historical explorations were, if familiar to me, fascinating nonetheless. Recipes from early American cookbooks, tracing crops that have moved across cultures and made their way into the hodge-podge of American food culture, studies documenting the myriad benefits of sharing a meal with family and community members all engaged and interested me.

However, her arguments stretched too far. Take Flammang’s discussion of food systems reform as an avenue for change in all aspects of our daily lives, for example. Though I share with Flammang an imagined nostalgia for the days when victory gardens produced a significant percentage of Americans’ fruits and vegetables, I acknowledge that we live in a changed time, when the cost of living is markedly more (even if you do opt a simpler lifestyle than that which our consumer culture advocates). The realities of rapid urbanization, population growth, real estate speculation and suburban sprawl are threatening our ability to procure land on which to grow food, no matter how adamantly we want to produce food more self-sufficiently. And though I wholeheartedly agree that hunger is a tremendous issue in the U.S. today, I happen not to think that that Alice Waters’ “delicious revolution” (a central, seemingly pet subject, of the book) included hunger and social justice as some its core tenants in the days of its inception, nor do I think Waters was the original organic, local food pioneer. How about our elderly gardeners that never stopped using natural methods to produce food in vacant lots, backyards, and containers, many of whom are non-white and grew food out of necessity, not a desire to reform the system.

When it came time to conclude, I hadn’t been swayed in any particular direction. It seemed Flammang had spend so much time reaching into as many corners of our society’s food and agriculture, past and present, that she lost her focus. I finished each chapter feeling as though it belonged on its own, as an academic article or, better yet, simplified into an editorial for wider consumption.

But let me be perfectly blunt. Perhaps more than anything, Flammang’s writing is undeniably colored by a sense of place, a very particular place: Santa Clara, California. Now I’m a born and bred New Yorker, and so perhaps there’s a bit of coastal competition at this point’s core. But having traveled extensively in my work with food, both in the U.S. and internationally, I find that increasingly, the Californian arguments (particularly those hailing from within driving distance of the Bay Area) are only tangentially relevant to many of the rest of us. If I had only ever experienced food work in a political climate that normalizes the radical and comes coupled with near-perfect growing conditions (which allow for year-round local sourcing of food), I too might find it appropriate to preach that buying local, gardening and taking time to cook Chez Panisse style are the key to social change. But I don’t. I live in a city of nearly 9 million people whose sprawling suburbs have managed to deaden once thriving farmland, and continue to do so at an alarming rate. And, though I do believe reform in food and agriculture as crucial components to changing our health, environment and city-scapes, after having spent time working with agriculture and sustainability initiatives in impoverished regions of South Africa, Brazil and Turkey in the last few years (not to mention our own pockets of near third-world poverty, which include Bedford-Stuyvesant, Brooklyn; Detroit and Flint, Michigan; rural Oregon; and Newark, New Jersey), I find myself more and more frustrated that our arguments (and in this case, Ms. Flammang’s) aren’t harder-hitting, more precise and more willing to engage with the uncomfortable and terribly complex issues of race and class in our food system specifically, and society overall.

If we’re going to talk about civil society, we need to focus on promoting reform that doesn’t shy away from more explicit focus on access to land and food in terms of cost, location and cultural appropriateness. I’m reminded of just how relevant these rifts in cultural perception and experience are in my day to day as I work with at-risk youth in Brooklyn. My understanding of and passion for food systems work comes from a different place than my students’, and the issues that drive my daily decisions are not the same as those that do theirs. Turning off the TV during dinner won’t make broken families whole again, nor will demanding fewer work hours in order to promote cooking at home help struggling families earn the money they need in order to purchase good food. Though I found Flammang’s writing engaging and well researched, I’m ready for us, particularly those of us with resources, media outlets and time to articulate our views in writing, to stop focusing on the feel-good benefits that make food reform so palatable.

The academy has its place, but when it comes to re-engaging our youth, reviving our agriculture and dealing with the abysmal state of health—both of individuals and communities—in the U.S. today, we need to get out into the world and into the dirt. We’ve got a lot to dig through.

In recent years, farmers’ markets have flourished as consumers look outside the corporate, industrial food system to feed their families. We have an organic garden on the White House lawn, and in backyards everywhere, small gardens are nearly ready to bear Mother Nature’s summer fruit. The warm weather is finally here, and around the country farmers’ markets are in full swing. Strawberries, corn, pole beans and apricots have arrived in most places, and soon, tomatoes and figs will also find their place on the dinner table. This summer, two different organizations are celebrating the American farmers’ market tradition and raising awareness through summer-long contests.

Love Your Farmers’ Market

Want to help win a little cash for your market? Care2, the largest online community for green and healthy living, and Local Harvest, America’s most popular website for finding food grown close to home, have joined together to raise awareness for local foods, family farms, and community farmers’ markets.

“People across the country are rediscovering the benefits of local food,”  said Erin Barnett, Director of LocalHarvest.org. “Not only is the food at your farmers’ market fresher, tastier and better for the environment, it’s also good for your local economy. By supporting farmers’ markets, we support family farmers and help them stay in business.”

The market with the most votes nationwide will win $5,000 and four runners-up will each be awarded $1,750. Throughout the duration of the contest, Care2 will sponsor a weekly prize of $250 for one participating market chosen at random.

As of this writing, Flint, Michigan’s market is in the number one spot, with two North Carolina markets in the top five.

You have until September 22 to vote for your local farmers’ market. Invite your friends to join to make sure your favorite market takes home the grand prize! The top ten participants who recruit the most friends will take home $50. Keep track of your market’s progress to ensure it wins on the contest’s website.

Our own contributor and editor Jen Dalton has partnered with Love Your Farmers’ Market to create seven cooking episodes as the Farm Fresh Cook. She teaches the ease of making simple, fresh dishes with farmers’ market purchases. Pay close attention to the videos for a peek into Anya Fernald‘s fabulous kitchen.

America’s Favorite Farmers’ Market

American Farmland Trust, a non-profit organization dedicated to protecting our nation’s strategic agricultural resources, is looking for three of America’s most treasured farmers’ markets to promote the connection between local food and farmland. Participants have until August 8 to vote their market into the top three. One small, one medium, and one large market will be crowned the winner and receive reusable market bags for local shoppers.

“Farmers’ markets not only supply the great seasonal foods we love,” says Julia Freedgood, managing director of AFT’s Growing Local initiative, “they give consumers a way to understand where their food is coming from and foster a closer relationship between farmers and communities.”

This summer, get out the vote, recruit your friends and shop at your local farmers’  market. Help keep your dollars local!

Eat Real will be a great party for the Bay Area, and Oakland in particular, to celebrate good food. We’re corralling the wagons with 30+ taco trucks, hot dog stands, and people on wheels selling every imaginable food – all made with at least a few locally-sourced sustainable ingredients. Our fabulous beer guy, Dave Maclean, is busy selecting around 40 local brews to have on tap; our partners at Buy Fresh, Buy Local have helped chose around 40 local craft food producers; and friends at People’s Grocery and La Cocina are helping build programming and more for the event.

This is the first annual edition of Eat Real, and we’re expecting 25,000+ attendees at the event. We are raising funds for a group of non-profits working locally in food in the Bay Area, and our model hopefully will be replicable by other groups around the country who are looking to raise funds for grassroots work and awareness of food issues via accessible and affordable events. Eat Real is free of charge (only the beer is ticketed), and we’re featuring street foods from over 15 countries – all made by artisans and chefs from around the Bay Area. Your taco secrets will help us spread the word about how to eat better every day. You can send your recipe in any format to info@eatrealfest.com. If you have any questions just send them along – we look forward to hearing from you!

Local foods are patriotic, whether you’re buying them directly from producers in your area or growing your own. They’re good for our local farmers, our economies, our health, and the health of our planet.  Local foods give us pause to (re)consider our connection with the land and those who produce our food.  And they taste great because they’re fresh from the soil.  (Who says that what is good for you can’t taste good, too?)

This Fourth of July, please consider celebrating your independence by including locally sourced foods in your menu.  Roger Doiron of Kitchen Gardeners International – who earlier this year petitioned the Obama administration to plant a Victory Garden on the White House lawn – recently launched Food Independence Day to encourage local eating on the Fourth.  Part of this effort was to gain the commitment of individuals to include local foods in their menu.  Another goal?  To petition our nation’s 50 governors to consume local foods and publish their menus for the day.

Let Food Freedom Ring!  Several governors have published their menus, and you can help us get more to join the effort.  Sign the petition at www.FoodIndependenceDay.org and check out the Associated Press story currently running:

Governors don’t have to look far for Fourth fare
07/02/2009
By CLARKE CANFIELD  / Associated Press

“This is an opportunity to celebrate our food culture,” he said.

On the day Americans celebrate the land of the free, a Maine man wants governors to feel free to live off the land.

A sustainable food advocate who campaigned for the Obamas to plant a garden at the White House has now received pledges from several governor’s offices to feature local foods on their Fourth of July menus, from Maine lobster to South Dakota pheasant jerky to milkshakes made with Montana huckleberries.

Roger Doiron said he was inspired to lobby governors to promote locally grown food after a patch of White House lawn was turned into an organic vegetable garden this spring.

“I said to myself, ‘Maybe we should try to look to other first families to eat by example and use their Fourth of July to make that happen,’” said Doiron, who wants to brand the holiday “Food Independence Day.”

Doiron is founder of Kitchen Gardeners International, a nonprofit that promotes food self-reliance through kitchen gardens and sustainable local food systems. Local foods are good for the palate, the health, local economies, the environment and your wallet, he said.

For the “Food Independence Day” effort, he teamed up with the Institute for Agriculture and Trade Policy Food and Society Fellows Program and the Mother Nature Network.

After setting up a Facebook page to promote the idea, they heard from more than 6,000 people who vowed to build their July Fourth menus around local and home-grown ingredients.

The governors’ offices in Idaho, Maine, Maryland, Montana, North Dakota, South Dakota, Texas and West Virginia pledged to do the same, Doiron said. The office of Minnesota Gov. Tim Pawlenty said the family would be out of state on July Fourth but would make efforts to eat locally through the year.

In Maine, the family of Gov. John Baldacci is planning a reunion this weekend that will include Maine lobsters, clams, mussels, potato salad and blueberry pie.

The menu in Maryland will have local crab cakes. South Dakota Gov. Mike Rounds will be serving up pheasant jerky (the state bird) and walleye (the state fish) along with hamburgers and hot dogs.

Montana first lady Nancy Schweitzer is planning a meal that includes Montana-raised beef, milkshakes made with local huckleberries, and huckleberry crisp. In West Virginia, the produce is coming from a local farmers market, and tomatoes and herbs were grown at the governor’s mansion.

In North Dakota, the meal will feature hamburgers made from North Dakota beef, along with hamburger buns made from local wheat, potato salad from local potatoes, and baked beans with bacon using local beans and North Dakota-raised pork.

Agriculture is North Dakota’s No. 1 industry, said Donald Caton, spokesman for Gov. John Hoeven. “It wasn’t difficult to put together a home-grown menu,” he said.

For his part, Doiron’s Fourth of July menu will include potatoes, dill, peas, salad makings and strawberries from his home garden in Scarborough. He also plans to dig clams from a local flat.

“This is an opportunity to celebrate our food culture,” he said.

P.S. from the author of this post, aka Victory Grower:  Today, a group of Food and Society Policy Fellows gathered on the phone to talk about Food Independence Day and the local foods we’d be eating with our families.  It was small talk about food from our gardens and food we’re purchasing from local farmers.  About preparing the recipes we’ve borrowed from one another.  Small talk, but sharing big ideas about public policy and food systems and culture and food independence.  Because small actions can result in big changes.

So, from the reaches of Maine (and Roger’s little “white house”) to the coast of Southern California (Rose), to the Pacific Northwest (Erin), to our nation’s heartland (Angie, Eric and Lisa) — or whatever place of the country you call home — let Food Freedom Ring!

I sat down with Annie Hauck-Lawson and Jonathan Deutsch over pancakes at the NYC icon Tom’s Restaurant in Brooklyn to discuss their delicious new book, Gastropolis: Food and New York City.

We may think of NYC’s iconic foods like knishes and egg creams (and diner pancakes) as fixed, but this collection of essays makes the case for the ability of each individual, each immigrant wave to leave its imprint on the ever-evolving foodscape of this city.  In fact, the archaeological remains of old New Amsterdam itself reveal how shifting ecology, shifting economy, and shifting populations can change the course of eating history and culture.

Hauck-Lawson and Deutsch have put together a collection that ranges in tone and approach, from Jessica Harris’ story of her personal food heritage to a history of the streets’ peddlers and markets to an examination of Roosevelt Avenue in Jackson Heights and its array of Central and South American cuisine.  But it does not attempt to capture everything.  The authors acknowledge the impossibility of that, instead presenting what they call “noshes,” little bits that ultimately fill you up as richly as a big meal.

“I would say that this book would be great required reading, especially for new New Yorkers,” Hauck-Lawson said, “as an accessible source of New York City food history and foodways and out of a measure of respect for the privilege of being a New Yorker.”

JK: This book provides a palpable and textured portrait– past and present– of New York’s foodscape, what Annie has called its “food voice.” Can you describe what that term means?

AH-L: What people eat and how they eat it can tell us a lot about identity and culture.  Food has such capacity to hold meaning, that is can function as a channel of communication and a form of expression of individual and group identity.

In addition to consumption, other food-related activities- raising, gathering and procurement, production, preparation, and post-consumption refuse, recycling, composting, contribute richly to the food voice, as well. Immigrant New Yorkers bring sustainable practices from their homelands and interpret them in their new land. My own family’s unwavering practices of growing, gathering, preparing, preserving, and composting food here are described in the chapter, ‘My Little Town: A Brooklyn Girl’s Food Voice’.

JK: Although this is a scholarly book, it is, in most places, very personal.  Is that inevitable with food–that it becomes personal?

AH-L: Mmmmm…..for the most part.

JD:  (overlapping) Yes.  I think you can’t write about food without expressing yourself.

AH-L: I’ve observed some people, even in my professional work as a Registered Dietitian, who seem indifferent to food. Some seem wrapped up in nutrients, but cold towards their natural sources. Voices here may, in fact say “I am detached from food.” That is a food voice too, and it is personal even if it speaks towards detachment and separation. And I personally say, ‘Keep the food in nutrition.’

JK: It seemed like some pieces were written specifically for this collection, and some were not. Can you describe a little bit the process of putting the book together?

AH-L: We had a very strong and clear vision for the book going into it.  We met with each contributing author and worked together to help shape it into the chapters that we envisioned.

JD: Nothing in the book has been previously published.  Some pieces are part of larger projects—such as dissertations—but nothing in here is recycled from other publications or collections.

JK: With a lot of food writing there can be a kind of nostalgic attempt to recapture a past time. This collection has both—pieces that try to re-tell New York food’s history (as well as personal histories) while also focusing on its ever-changing present.

JD: It’s interesting to note that New York City does not actually have a sustainable food past—there was tainted milk, dirty water, pestilence and disease.  Some might think that what Slow Food does is looking back to a past way of doing things, but in many cases—like New York City–it’s not a nostalgic return to the past, it’s forward-looking work.

AH-L: And I’ll chime in that individually practiced or small scale sustainable efforts in our unusual urban setting of New York City deserve to be highlighted and protected so that others may learn from them and adapt them to their own practices. I grew up with a boatload of sustainable practices–such as composting– that my grandparents brought from different parts of Europe and practiced here, and believe me, they continue through four generations.

JK: And further, past and present isn’t the only set of opposites the book wrestles with.  The book really negotiates New York City’s seeming contradictions—haute cuisine and street food, abundance and scarcity, rich and poor.  You end the book with Mitchell Davis’ piece on eating out and restaurant culture, directly followed by Janet Poppendieck and JC Dwyer’s examination of poverty and hunger.  Can you talk about your decision to end a book about food with a piece on food insecurity?

JD: For people who don’t have enough food, food is the most important thing. Not having food is a lived life here in this city, and the role of food for those people is so much more important than everything else.  Following the operating hours of pantries and soup kitchens become as important for the food insecure as reading restaurant reviews is for the affluent restaurant goer.  It is important to show that New York City is not a food utopia—there are great things about food in NYC but there’s also hunger.

AH-L: I love how Poppendieck and Dwyer evoke Calvino’s image of Valdrada [a city built on the shores of a lake, thus creating a second city, its reflection in the water, the city “so constructed that its every point would be reflected in its mirror” –JK].  It was fitting to end the book that way because it shows both parts of the city: the sparkly abundant city and a more slippery underside containing scarcity and hunger.

Photo credits: Marisa Wetzel and Alana Grace Lawson

Cross-posted from Slow Food USA blog