The Mystery of the Travelling Beef

It was a dark and stormy night... wait.  Stop.  Food blogging.  Start over.

It all started with a pound of beef...

You see, I have this membership to a local food coop.  Let me clarify.  The coop, which is dedicated to providing organic food, is local.  The food--not necessarily.  Don't get me wrong.  The quality of the food is superb; the standards impeccable.  And they do occasionally get local bread and cheese... and chicken*.  All the birds I've gotten from them so far have come from Tahlequah (have fun pronouncing that if you ain't from 'round here).  But when I inquired as to where their food came from, I was told that most of it comes on a truck from Colorado, and they (the Colorado distributor) get it from, well, wherever.  I dealt with it for awhile.  It was winter and the deals were sometimes pretty good.  Better than Whole Foods prices (at times), anyway.  

But, then, a few weeks ago, I got this beef.  It was 100% Organic Grass Fed Stew Meat.  So far so good.  (By the way, if it's "100% Grass Fed," does that mean it's grass finished?  Enlighten me, if you know.)  And then, out of what has now become habit, I looked at the Country of Origin label.  Ahem.  ... Uruguay.  

Yes, you heard me right.

Uruguay.

No, I'm serious.  Here, look.  

Exhibit A

Beef from Uruguay

Do you know where Uruguay is?  It's in South America.  On the Eastern coast of the continent.  

Exhibit B

Thank you, Terri, for finding this fantastic image for use in this post.  Your Google powers remain unequaled.

I'm sure all of our readers are well aware that we are in Oklahoma, USA.  North America.  Officially.  

Now, I've mentioned before that I don't, by any means, buy everything locally.  I buy olive oil and bananas and many other things that aren't from "'round here."  However, ... Uruguay?  We have so many great ranchers within our state, many of whom raise their cows purely on grass, and hay in the winter.  And even if our coop was unable to find a cattle rancher willing to supply them, surely there would be one in a neighboring state, at least.  But this stew meat, this modest 1 lb. package of grass-fed beef, was from a country so far away that I had to consult Google for its exact location (geography never being my strong point).  

I took it upon myself to look up the distance between Uruguay and Tulsa.  According to happyzebra.com, the distance from Montevideo, Uruguay to Tulsa is 5,500.4 miles.  For a more conservative estimate, the distance from Salto, Uruguay to Tulsa is 5,258 miles.  But wait--let's look back at that label up there, shall we?  Notice the small print at the bottom?  It says, "Distributed by Albert's Organics, Bridgeport, New Jersey..."  And don't forget that truck from Colorado. So, if these are all the stopping points, our beef had to travel from Uruguay (city unknown) to Bridgeport, NJ to Colorado to Tulsa, Oklahoma.  This meat has literally spanned two entire continents to get to me.  

I feel... a little sick about it, to tell you the truth.  A little "spoiled American."  A little ashamed.

Now, as I said, I got the Beef from Uruguay in my coop share bag a few weeks ago.  What was the fate of the grass fed Beef from Uruguay?  What do you think?  I threw it away?  Well, hell no.  Being a responsible consumer is about being responsible.  There was already enough waste associated with the now famous (just ask Terri--it's become a regular joke between us) Beef from Uruguay without adding insult to injury.  So, two nights ago, I decide it's time to pull that stew meat out of my freezer and make, well, stew with it.  I mention this (via email) to Terri.  And do you know how she responded?  I kid you not, with an actual beef stew recipe from Uruguay!  Look, look, look!  Uruguayan Rice and Beef Stew  

This, people, fills me with endless glee.  If I have never said it before, I will say it now.  Terri is a Googling phenomenon.  

My grass fed Beef from Uruguay was thawed and ready to stew for last night's dinner.  I did, in fact, follow the Uruguayan Rice and Beef Stew recipe.  If you ever try it, I'll tell you it's not like regular stew and it is definitely carb-heavy.  It calls for 2 cups (uncooked) rice plus two potatoes.  There is very, very little liquid left by the time it's done cooking.  Mostly, it's a very moist, tomatoey rice dish with some chunks of beef and stuff.  And, to tell you the truth, it was a little bland.  You'll notice there are absolutely no herbs or spices (unless you count garlic and onions) in this recipe.  I'm sure if I were Uruguayan, I would've got the technique down and it would've been fantastic.  Instead, I just added some extra salt and it was fine.  But, I must say, the beef itself?  It was excellent.  Richly flavored and not at all tough.  There is something to be said for grass-fed beef.

But now I'm left with some leftovers and a feeling that I should do something more to honor our local cattle ranchers.  I'm going to have to say something.  This coop... it could do so much better.  They're a very small operation and, as such, presumably have control over who they do and don't order from.  It's a cooperative, after all.  And they really should be buying locally wherever they can.  There really isn't any excuse.  There are other coops in town that do supply purely local products.  This one should follow suit... or at least attempt to get closer.  

This is hard for me, though.  I'm Ms. Encouragement, typically.  I'm the one who wants everyone to feel good about themselves and never wants to hurt anyone's feelings.  But, in this way, I can attempt to make the tiniest difference.  So I will.  I will send an email to those who run this little coop and I will be so, so nice.  I will include several helpful links for local ranchers they could, perhaps, contact for their meat supply, and I will hope they understand and see what good they can do.  They are, after all, in a position of power--buying power.  And their power could go a long way toward helping our local ranchers and farmers survive, and cutting some serious carbon miles while they're at it.  As I said, I truly believe they mean well, this unnamed cooperative.  But this... this is all wrong.  

I'll let you know what response, if any, I receive from said nameless coop.  You may be witness to my first real step towards advocacy.  This Beef from Uruguay may have created a monster.

*The eggs, however, were coming from Colorado, if I remember correctly.  Wherever they were from, it wasn't Oklahoma, so I stopped getting the eggs.  There is no shortage of pastured eggs in Oklahoma.

Read more...

Making it Through March

It's the beginning of March and the farmers’ markets don't open here in Green Country for another month. For now, I'm eking by like the rest of the local-food hopefuls (I would so love to call myself a true locavore, but I'm afraid some brave soldier who doesn't eat anything grown, raised, or produced more than 100 miles from their home would smite me because I'm not local enough...yet), eating last summer's frozen green beans (and they still taste better than anything I can get from the Jolly Green Giant), trying-trying-trying to vote with my food dollars at the grocery store as much as my income will allow, and, in the end, still buying more feedlot meat and processed food than I want to think about.  

Porky Truck

I started really focusing on local and organic last spring, after finally beginning to grasp the global travesty I had been buying into all these years.  I learned a lot.  I went to farmers’ markets regularly, buying everything from fresh produce to local beef and eggs, and I even tried to buy extra to save for winter.  I froze a lot of stuff (thanks to Terri graciously sharing space in her extra freezer with me), though not enough to completely get us by.  I haven't yet learned the fine arts of canning and drying and I just didn't have the budget (or freezer space) to buy up the meat we'd need ahead of time.  There's this guy in Sand Springs who sells grass-finished beef (yes, that's what I said, grass-finished!  Not sure what that means or why it matters?  That's a topic for another post...), and pork that roams freely for the length of its happy little life.  That's who I want to order from.  But, like all things in the really real world, it's not so simple as calling him up and ordering a few pounds of ground round.  No, you have to order it by the cow – whole, half, or even quarter (practically unheard of – I've  been told most operations like this won't sell the meat for less than half a cow), and it has to be ordered at certain times of year, so he knows how much he'll need to raise.  As you can imagine, buying that much meat at once is a little bit of a hit to the pocketbook, if you're not budgeting for it ahead of time.  Which...of course...I've not yet managed to do.

I'm frustrated—with myself and with “the system.”  This shouldn't be so hard.  Because it's so basic.  I want the food I eat and feed my family to be regular, natural, untampered-with food.  And I want most of it to come from close to home...at least, what, within the state?  Not the highest “locavore” ideal, but man, it's gotta' be better than getting all my organics shipped from California or another country, right?  And I know that buying “gourmet” food from local artisans can be quite pricey (please don't any of my local bakers shoot me, but it's around $6 for a loaf of bread to get it made here in town.  I just...I want to, but I can rarely afford to go that route).  However, I'm not looking for gourmet.  I'm just looking for stuff I can learn to prepare on my own—everyday fare.  I'm looking for produce that hasn't been sprayed with poison and meat that was raised the way it was always raised before the 1950s—out in the open, grazing on grass or pecking in the barnyard, and having no neurotic urges to bite off its neighbor's tail or have to be dragged by several grown men to slaughter because it's too sick to walk or stand on its own.  Really, who would want to eat that?  

 So this year, as I ponder what to do with those three quarts of frozen okra I optimistically bought last year and thought for sure I'd have used up by now (Terri? Any ideas?), I vow, timidly and hopefully, to myself, to do better—to keep track of my findings (for my own information and for yours, dear friends), to learn how to do more for myself and not to rely so much on the packaged-food industry, to find a way to beat this beast... one local vegetable and informed choice at a time.  

Read more...

Why This? Why Now?

The main reason I wanted to start this blog is that two of my children were diagnosed with Celiac disease.  After a lot of panicked research, I commenced to clearing the house of every speck of gluten.  Not an easy task, I can tell you.  (You would not believe all of the things they stick gluten into, and all the monikers it can hide under!)

Now, as someone who is passionate about food, I gotta admit...it stung a bit.  I thought about all the foods that were "off limits."  But I held my tongue.  It was hard enough for the kids as it was without mommy complaining.  (Although Angela may have heard a complaint or two, ahem.  Thanks, Angela!)

After about a minute, I realized that the best thing I could do was to see this as the challenge that it was.  And I like a challenge.  So I armed myself with cookbooks, the internet, and a a lot of tiny, really expensive bags of various gluten-free flours.  (Over $120 at Whole Foods, and I came out with one shopping bag of flour...I kid you not.  The bag wasn't even half full!)

As I battled it out in the kitchen, Angela's years of talking about the environment started to finally filter into my brain.  I questioned the increase in celiac diagnosis, I wondered if the way we ate contributed to it...there may have been some obsessing on my part.  Just a bit.  I read more about food and disease, the I read more about food and health.  Suddenly all the things that Angela had been harping about for ages--I mean sharing with me--made sense. 

My fridge found itself the keeper of new and strange, colorful things...vegetables.  Lots of vegetables.  I wanted to arm the kids with these warriors of nutrition.  I wanted to keep out the artificial junk, the overly processed crap, the hormone laden, genetically altered, chemically poisoned...yuckiness.

So I started modifying recipes...lots and lots of recipes...and then I started worrying about making sure that they were organized and accessible for my kids should (heaven forbid and knock on wood) anything happen to me.  (As you will soon find out, "Guilt" and "Worry" are my next-besties after Angelia!)  Then I started thinking...well, crap, it is kinda selfish to keep all this hard earned knowledge to myself...

That leads us here...me and my very dear friend (Angela...not Guilt or Worry, in case you were wondering) who is so incredibly tolerant and encouraging, about to embark on a new adventure as we document every awesome discovery, every much belabored recipe and, unfortunately, every epic failure. 

So, without further ado, here is Angela's take on this whole endeavor...

For most of my free-thinking life, I have considered myself an environmentalist.  Perhaps not always a very good environmentalist, but one who always held nature in the highest esteem, in her deepest heart of hearts.  I have done good – recycling, trading my incandescent light bulbs out for compact fluorescents, converting to only fair-trade and preferably organic coffee, even changing the kind of cat litter I bought when I discovered the clay stuff is strip-mined; and I have done bad – smoked (and, yes, littered the ground with my cigarette butts) for 11 years, didn't always keep my vehicle in tip-top shape so as to avoid a higher than necessary carbon emission, and have had more take-out food, with all its waste and negative social impact, than I care to admit (even to myself, though if I am to do this right, I’ll have to start).  In a nutshell, I have tried to be virtuous, and, like any common sinner, have fallen into nearly every one of the trappings of this American life at one time or another. 

More recently, while trying to correct my path and make good on my word (for I have raged against that dark corporate entity), I came to the point where I finally had to admit to myself that recycling wasn't enough, that I, as an individual consumer, could do better than merely worrying about where my trash went and what the government was doing to regulate the air I breathed.  Then, in my personal journey to find something deeper and more meaningful that I could do to aid our planet from my own back yard, I stumbled upon a problem so big and so obvious and so simple that it terrified me to think of how long I'd missed it.  It was almost as if it was on purpose, as if I'd been wearing blinders for my entire adult life, refusing to see the worst.  Was it possible that I'd really been in denial?  And the truth, of course, was yes.  Because this big-bad-obvious-thing was something that would hit at the core of my life, my household, the way I cared for my own child.  The truth was in the food.

The food we have come to depend on – the kind you buy at the conventional grocery store, that they serve you through the drive thru window, that they're serving your kids in their school lunches, is, to put it literally, a disaster—not one waiting to happen, but one that is happening…right now.  The implications, from how far the food has to travel to get to us (and the immense amount of energy it takes to transport it), to the quality of the food itself, are so much bigger than anything I ever before let myself fully grasp.  I was overwhelmed.  But I wouldn't shy away; not anymore.  Because I knew something was wrong.  This wasn't just something happening on another continent, some report of dying species in a far away land, something I could only help by donating a few bucks to some big organization.  No.  This was hitting home.  Obesity, heart disease, cancer, and a whole slew of other diseases plague our country, and the impact is hitting us younger and younger.  I don't know what the actual statistics are, but of the people I know, nearly half or more of their children (including my own) are diagnosed with ADHD or Asperger's syndrome or some other autistic spectrum disorder.  I know more asthmatics than I know people who breathe just fine.  And I don't know anyone who doesn't have at least one diabetic in their family. 

Gluten intolerance, something I'd heard about in passing but knew very little about, didn't come to my doorstep until Terri's daughter was diagnosed with Celiac disease.  Luckily, by that time, closely scrutinizing the food my family eats had become habit.  For her part, Terri started researching and reporting back her findings and things began sounding very familiar.  This reminded me of the pitfalls of feedlot meat or diabetes.  Gluten was everywhere, and the cases of gluten intolerance in our country were climbing.  It was a case of our industrial food system cramming binders and fillers (nearly always containing gluten) into every possible nook and cranny of what we ate and what we applied to our bodies (lotions?  lip gloss?).  Because it's cheap, we have more of it than we know what to do with, and we need a place to put it.  It's part of the same madness that makes us feed grain to our cows, which in turn makes them develop a form of e. coli that kills people, and makes us cram so much sugar and (surprise, surprise) corn syrup into processed food that we overwhelm our systems and develop diabetes. 

That's when we decided to put our heads together.  Terri was (and is) developing recipes right and left, fighting with the food system to find a way to feed her family food that wouldn't (literally) kill them and not have to file bankruptcy to do it.  I was (and am) trying desperately to get away from feedlot meat and genetically modified, poisonous, nutritionally devoid produce, to find food that is locally produced and minimally processed, and not have to file bankruptcy to do it.  Eventually, Terri started to sound a lot like me, “Angela, do you know how much stuff has gluten in it?  And the government isn’t regulating this stuff or requiring companies to label their products to warn us!  (It's true!  Who knew that "modified food starch" was some kind of food industry code for "crap that contains gluten"?) They’re just stuffing it into everything!”  And I started to sound a lot like her, “Terri, I just found these organic blackberries at the farmers’ market and made them into blackberry syrup.  It was lovely.”  Our missions had dovetailed.  It was time to consolidate our efforts. 

And so we embark on a new journey, to traverse the treacherous waters of eating consciously in America.  We want you to come along.  It won't always be easy, and it will often be frustrating, but we promise it will also be fun and ultimately rewarding.  We are trying to save our families as we try to save our souls.  And, we hope, to contribute something good to this world of ours, even if it's just a little entertainment and a little deeper understanding of the most vital element of our survival – our food. 

Read more...