Bigger than Just Tomatoes

Picture courtesy of helpforgardeners.com

By Gillian Locascio

It always seemed to center around the tomatoes.

The colorful fruit with a colorful history was not new to its role as a symbol. Originating on the west coast of South America and most likely domesticated in Central America, the plant travelled across the Atlantic shortly after the Spanish Conquest of Tenochtitlan. There, the exotic fruit slowly became a central part of many European cuisines, despite its early reputation in the northern regions as related to poisonous members of the Solanceae family such as henbane, mandrake, and deadly nightshade. Travelling back across the Atlantic with North American colonists, the tomato again met with initial resistance; George Washington Carver’s support of tomato consumption to improve nutrition was largely unsuccessful in rural Alabama, and one popular story has a Colonel Robert Gibbon Johnson shocking Boston crowds in 1820 by eating a bushel of tomatoes without dying. In the late 1800s, the now-popular tomato came to symbolize a debate over classification of certain “fruits” such as “cucumbers, squashes, beans, and peas” when the British levied a 10% tax on all imported vegetables. Challenged by a tomato grower based on the tomato’s botanical classification as a fruit, the court ruled that these fruits were used as vegetables, not as fruits, in meals. Thus the tomato became a “vegetable.”

A century later the tomato became the center of the biotechnology debate, when the Flavr Savr tomato, which had a marker gene and an added antisense gene to prevent softening of the fruit, hit shelves. It was the first whole food approved by the FDA that had been altered using recombinant DNA technology. Despite little controversy during the approval process, consumer concerns over the potential unknowns of biotechnology used in plant breeding and food led to the removal of the tomato from shelves.

For me, the tomato first symbolized adulthood. My family’s garden was among the 35 million backyard gardens in which tomatoes are grown throughout the United States, and every year my father made me try a cherry tomato. I already liked cooked tomatoes, in the spaghetti sauce that graced our table multiple times a week, and my dad was sure that it was only a matter of time before I took a liking to the uncooked form. Each year, hopeful, I would try the small fruit. Each year, disappointed, I would spit it out, until finally my junior year of high school I found that I suddenly enjoyed the taste.

Two summers later, working in Atlanta where I was attending school, I became a regular at a local farmers market. Georgia is the third largest producer of tomatoes in the country, after Florida and California, and walking mid-summer by a tomato plant as tall as a human, it is easy to see why. This farmers market, however, had the strangest collection of tomatoes I had ever seen; they had ripples and bulges, some were yellow with purple stripes, others were green with red polka dots. They were heirloom tomatoes. Tomatoes, which self-pollinate, quickly become distinct varieties when they are isolated, and heirloom tomato varieties come from towns across Europe and the eastern United States and are as distinct as the tastes of the people who cultivated them. Unlike tomatoes found in most grocery stores, which have been bred to ship well and stay firm, heirloom tomatoes were bred for taste and, I suspect, their interesting coloration. I had never tasted anything so intensely tomato-flavored in my life. Suddenly, the tomato seemed like the incarnation of everything the industrial food system, which needed consistency, high yields, and, over everything else, long shelf life, had robbed from us in taste.

Perhaps that is why I was surprised by the conversation that ensued at the Sustainable Food Summit at Emory in 2008. We were sitting around tables, a motley gathering of involved students and faculty that the school had called together to cobble together our collective priorities. Based on an imaginary budget, we were deciding what changes were worth the extra money; fair trade organic bananas or organic wheat? Grass-fed beef or both eggs and meat from antibiotic-free, free range, organic chickens? It was a particularly useful exercise for Sodexo, which was working to balance our demands for “greener” foods with their bottom line. It was an exercise that Paul Farmer, the doctor who decided that poor Haitians shouldn’t have to settle for whatever care was cost-effective, would probably have hated. After all of the talking, though, we were stuck on the issue of tomatoes.

One girl stood up. “I don’t think the general student population, outside of this room, would be willing to give up tomatoes from the salad bar during the winter.” Some agreed. Some disagreed. A heated dispute began. To me, the debate seemed exaggerated. I have never relished the watery, tasteless “tomatoes” we get in our salad bars in the dead of winter. The question behind the tomato debate, however, was much bigger. How much are people willing to change their eating habits in the quest for sustainable foods?

After all, Americans eat over 18.8 pounds of tomatoes annually per person, a staggering amount of tomatoes, and despite Georgia’s status as a top tomato producer the season is well over before the first students step onto campus in September. As the novelty of Barbara Kingsolver’s quest to eat only locally produced foods in Animal, Vegetable, Miracle showed, foods carried from faraway places are as ingrained in our diets as tomatoes are in Italian cuisine. Teaching a group of college students to make apple butter last fall, almost none of the students had never done any sort of food preservation more complicated than freezing. The idea of eating what can be produced in my own region doesn’t seem so strange to me, but not everyone is ready to try Barbara Kingsolver’s experiment. A few weeks ago at training for an environmental education position I have this summer, the trainees took a trip to the local cooperative to stock up on food for the week. Most of us were young, reared middle-class, environmentalists, and saw a wealth of meal options in the vegetables, granola, and soy products that graced the shelves. One older Detroit resident, however, walked through the aisles with increasing frustration, and finally asked if anyone else wanted to go with her to Safeway. “There’s nothing to eat here!” she exclaimed in frustration.

At a University that has to provide food for people of many backgrounds, from many places, just how much people are willing to change their eating habits is a serious concern. Most of the students at Emory would not consider a salad bar full of kale or sautéed rainbow chard a real salad. In fact, half of our students had probably never tried collard greens before stepping into the Emory dining hall. Does that mean, however, the goal of our local foods movement should be to change as much of our sourcing as possible without changing the way our meals look? Over the last two years, I watched Washington apples in the dining halls change to Georgia-grown apples, Tyson chicken become locally raised free range chicken, and saw small stickers appear on the prepackaged salads telling students whether the contents were organic, local, or fair trade. The changes have been numerous, but subtle.

On one hand, swapping out local apples or free-range chickens is still a major improvement, the first big step towards our goal of 75% local or sustainably grown food by 2015. Especially when Georgia’s smaller organic farms do not have yet have the capacity to provide that 75%. Our purchasing power has a huge impact on the local farming community, the environment, and, when we buy fair trade, on farmers abroad as well. However, there is one important part that gets left out when we focus on changing how we source our food without disturbing the students. Teaching. Not the kind of teaching that happens in a class, we have a class that looks at the environmental and social implications of the foods we eat. The kind of teaching that happens with our mouths, with our hands, with experience.

Schooling, after all, was intended in the United States to give us the building blocks to be useful citizens. Especially with liberal arts institutions, university is often viewed as giving us the tools that we will use later in life. With foods, that means having some sort of a model of what eating locally and sustainably looks like, having some idea of the sorts of foods that can be made with those weird sounding winter greens like kale and chard. That means quietly, slowly, getting students used to the better taste, and then the better economic, social, and environmental aspects, of local foods. That way, when they go out into the world four years later, maybe they will reach compulsively for the can of organic tomatoes that costs an extra ten cents, or stop at a farm stand to grab a bunch of that colorful rainbow chard they grew to enjoy. Maybe they’ll even become an advocate at work or at local restaurants for changing the way we get our food. Only by looking beyond the University’s purchasing power, to the purchasing power of the students, their future workplaces, and everyone they might touch in the future, do we really fulfill on our place as an institution of higher learning.

A year later, having failed (for now) to eliminate tomatoes from our winter salad bar and having and to change one of our food stations to serve only seasonal dishes, as an example, I stood before a room full of student food activists at the Southeast Real Food Youth Summit. I had been asked to speak about student involvement in changing the way we grow, process, and deliver our foods. As I spoke about the type of learning that happens through our mouths, through our hands, I found myself once again talking about tomatoes.

But I wasn’t the only one. A representative of the Student Farmworker Alliance and the Coalition of Immokalee Workers stepped up to speak about modern day slavery in the tomato fields of Florida, and their efforts to have fast food restaurants, and now University dining halls, pay an extra penny per pound of tomatoes for the workers.

Once again the tomato had become a symbol of something much bigger.

Useful sites:

Emory’s Sustainable Foods Programs and Priorities

Student Farmworker Alliance

Tomato History, “I say Tomayto, you say Tomahto” by Sam Cox

Edibility in the Video Game Era

         Survival of the fittest, the full onslaught of virtual living, information overload, and night travel through a land without electricity, to a place where I can access the internet, all define the flavor of our contemporary relationship to who we are and what we eat. Presently in Costa Rica, it is easy to see the way in which human beings have decided to live as a natural outgrowth of our propensity for abstraction, disconnect and self absorption. Sounding misanthropic? Perhaps a tad, but it is increasingly obvious as to why the problems that plague us individuals concerned with food quality and sustainability exist. For most of our written history (coinciding with the advent of large centralized agricultural systems) human beings have spent the majority of their time clearing land for, growing, harvesting, storing, selling, moving, and trading food. Our relatively recent advance into the mechanized age has freed an enormous portion of the populace to enter into the industrialized workforce but at what cost? The Since we obviously can not go back (as much as some would like to think we can, to those I say, Farm, and see how you like it), the dialogue of what to be done must seek a constructive blend between our amazing capacity to innovate and transform, and to appreciate what we eat.
           To begin to appreciate what we put into our bodies demands that we begin to appreciate ourselves, and where we come from. Food itself is a substance that can be broadly or narrowly defined, and can easily become something that is narrowly defined as consumable. To skirt the entrapment of instant gratification, commodification and objectification, I have found it enlightening to think of food in terms of process, i.e. a temporally sensitive manifestation of much deeper workings. The subtle interplay between geological and evolutionary forces and the stuff on the evening plate is rarely thought of, at least in public, and therein lies the problem. Not that we need to engage in mind bending abstractions as part of our daily meals, but that a bit of reflection on the origins of our being can provide genuine connectivity between who we are, what we make ourselves out of and just what exactly it is we care about when we care about food.
           Food is politics, food is money, food is essence. A life giving substance that we, unless obtaining a status akin a corpse or an extreme spiritualist (take your pick), cannot do without. However, food is so much more than any overt simplification. What we eat has not only implications on energy use, ecological and climatic relationships, but also the metaphysical. Food is culture, it is spirit condensed and it is a way of life. If all of this sounds like hogwash, just take a moment to think about dinnertime conversation, a morning in the garden or, if you’re a slightly more scientific in your approach, the steady movement of energy and lives that make our lifestyle possible. As we heal our relationship with ourselves, and start listening deeply to the needs of our stomach and soul, we may come to the realization that what we eat not only shapes our physical well being and experiential reality, but the very nature of the world we live in.
            The shaping of our world, on the global and on the local scale is the central issue in determining what we eat: the role that we play in our own well being, and that of our global community (not being limited to human life). Each of us has a responsibility to ourselves to live in a healthy way (which is highly individualistic and almost never straightforward. Unfortunately for many of us living in the ‘western’ world, this seemingly simple dictate becomes very complicated by the vast array of choices presented to the average ‘consumer,’ as well as the severe apparent disconnect between grocery stores, university food services, etc… and the physical environment. I say apparent because it is impossible to have an actual disconnect between what we eat and the impact it has on our selves and the planet, however, there exists a very real lack of consciousness about the impacts of our choices: we and the planet suffer whether we are aware of it or not, it is up to us to become aware of our impacts and own them, acknowledging the full price of our actions.
           At present the international agreements pushed for by multinational conglomerates and simplistically minded governments have placed an enormous bias on the inexpensive, on the portable and on the constantly available. It is up to us as individuals to put forth different value systems, whether publicly or personally, in congress or on campus, and to strive for their realization at scales that may have lasting impact. As we lobby for changes in subsidies, for ecologically sound and organically based agriculture we can begin to get at the root of the problems in our food system, our perceived disconnect from the natural world. This perceived disconnect in the process of nurturing ourselves and the planet can also be solved by changing the way we view our connectivity to the food system as a whole. Rather than as an endpoint ‘consumer’ we can think of ourselves as participants in the process. In this view the human being is woven into a web of continuous exchange, each individual is simultaneously the center and periphery of an endless network of the global ecosystem and its accompanying human infrastructure.
           Regardless if we spend our lives in front of the computer, or nursing a hankering for space travel, it is still necessary to eat. Life in the college setting also demands nutrition, and the concern over the manner of that nutrition has given rise to countless groups, many of which are featured on this blog and elsewhere. Campus gardens abound, as do small scale movements and even within administrative movements to change the nature of the food we eat. Changing national food policy cannot be done without changing global food policy, and that process demands fairness in dealings with previously exploited economies, and a curtailing of predatory ¨free trade´´ policies and irresponsible laissez faire capitalism. Prices need to reflect reality for our economic systems to work, and prices reflect values. Every time we take the time to support a local farm, or push for ecologically sound practices in agriculture or talk to an administrator about composting and growing more food regionally we are taking steps in the right direction. From Connecticut dairy farms to mango orchards in Central America the message is the same, but the practice is different, we need to spread the awareness of quality food, and grow the movement towards equitable exchange and global awareness. As the fossil fuel age comes to its slow grinding close, we must reform the network according to our genuine needs, be it through or own gardens, agroforestry projects or integrated biological crop systems, we must maintain the awareness that causes us to care for the land around us, wherever we are, and whatever we are doing. In short, to be humble and appreciate this life made possible, by food.

Boulder-Based Action: Wait, let’s go climbing first.

By Lilly Justman

The undertaking of the task to write a blog post on “food sustainability” has for some odd reason tormented my waking mind. The topic spreads a spectrum of issues and emotions that I can’t even begin to express in words, and I have only attempted to express through my body and soul, in actions. Let’s face it, it’s tough to be a small group of individuals against a domineering and frighteningly large University, with tens of thousands of students, and decades of contracts and elitist decision making.

But at this point, our small group of individuals continues to persevere, more with a sense of knowing that it will all have to manifest our way eventually. At the University of Colorado in beautiful Boulder, we have over 30,000 students, and a system that is simply too large and resource intensive to sustain. We have an incredible Environmental Center with several full-time paid staff members who have accomplished landmarks such as composting in the dining halls, carbon-neutral buildings, and securing $119,000 worth of funding for a an upcoming off-campus farm. We are a truly advanced University when it comes to sustainability. But the urgency of our present environmental predicament has not yet fully penetrated our campus. Our campus keeps expanding, and it is unclear how soon individuals will fully understand that fundamental, radical changes are imperative to enabling a smooth transition off of cheap fossil fuels.

How soon will the chair of this or that board finally realize the jeopardy that our water supply is in, out here in dry Colorado?

How soon will people understand that these buildings that we keep building, building, building, will just have to be retrofitted in the next few years due to the inadequacy of “LEED” certified standards in increasing energy efficiency?

How soon will it be until the President becomes ill at ease because of how fast oil supplies are beginning to decline, multiplying per-barrel prices, and thus quadrupling the price of once cheap food grown and trucked from thousands of miles away?

How soon will we trash this idea of food security, and galvanize around the idea of food sovereignty?

We must become food sovereign.

In an informal interview with one of the lead chefs at the University, it was said that we have about three days of food supply stored, in the chance that there would be some type of crisis that affected our ability to receive food imports. This is our food “security”. After that, we depend on the Red Cross for emergency drop-offs. Now I know it sounds incredibly doomsday to be thinking about our food supplies in crisis mode, but we must face the reality of how vulnerable our enormous campus, and all large campuses nationally, really are in the face of peak oil.

Matthew Simmons, one of the most renowned peak oil experts, as well as previous energy advisor to George W. Bush, is one of the few people that fully understands the vulnerability of the food system we have. At a lecture at the Association for the Study of Peak Oil (ASPO) Conference last October of 2008, Simmons broke the news that if every American were to simply, go “top off their gas tank”, it would completely deplete our oil reserve, and supermarket shelves would be empty within 5-7 days. Can you imagine how quickly a national oil scare could cause this to happen? Trucking wouldn’t be possible, and food deliveries to the dining halls would quickly come to a halt

But no big deal, because we have three days of food stored up, right?

This notion of campus food security is absolutely ludicrous if it’s contingent upon a finite supply of packaged goods. Our entire method of shipping and buying massive amounts of food to feed the campus is horrifyingly vulnerable with quickly declining oil supplies and future oil price volatility. We can’t be food secure if we continue to rely on a finite natural resource. We must galvanize around this notion of food sovereignty. We have got to learn how to produce food from within, in a way where food can be abundant, and cyclical, thus developing personal sovereignty over our future food sources.

This is where the idea of radical and fundamental changes come to play. Influenced largely by the Transition Movement, a movement that is rapidly spreading throughout the globe (www.transitioncolorado.ning.com), myself and other like-minded students recognize the need for the radical reform of our food system on campus. It’s been frustrating acting as a small student group trying to make large changes when contracts and partnerships exist with large and wealthy corporations. It’s also been frustrating to see the slow pace of changes; like when it takes the university several months of preparation to have one day of local foods in only two of our six dining halls. Fundamental shifts have to occur faster than this.

At the University of Colorado in Boulder, we have acres of absolutely stunning green grass. Our ability to grow beautiful grass is truly stellar. But unfortunately the necessary inputs and labor needed to sustain the beauty of the grass is ridiculous, incredibly fuel intensive, and overall unsustainable. Why not have some lawns be divided into small plots to enable students to have personal or shared community gardens? In Boulder, community garden plots are slightly pricy and continually have long waitlists to secure a plot. With so much space on campus, students could learn how to grow food and also secure a cheap and abundant food supply. Dining halls could also have their own spaces to grow fresh produce for meals. Not to mention the abundance of space where small fruit orchards could replace other un-producing trees. Already we have several greenhouses on top of buildings, but most are used for chemistry or other lab experiments. Why not utilize tops of buildings for plant starts in greenhouses, or make green roofs with veggie gardens, that would actually prolong the lifetime of a roof, cool the air, create ecosystems that make great learning environments, and produce abundant food? I know these changes seem like massive endeavors across the board. But we’ve got to shift our way of thinking that small, piece-meal changes are enough in our precarious predicament.
Coming from a background of peak oil (which is what I wrote my senior Honors Thesis on), somewhat skews my way of thinking to one that is more urgent. Knowing even the slightest bit about our current oil situation would make anyone feel ill at ease. As for climate change, our race to secure more and more oil through unconventional means (which requires more fossil fuel inputs) exacerbates the already terrifying rate that our atmosphere is warming. And it’s hard to really make people understand the severity of the situation because of our ability to continue life as usual. But many people who have become more specialized in the peak oil field develop a sense of fear that underlies any action. This is a huge problem, because you can’t move people to action through fear. When speaking of our oil predicament, we can’t be fearful, but we must be realistic. When Cuba experienced a peak oil type crisis after the collapse of their largest trade partner, the Soviet Union, Cuba had to dramatically reform how their food systems functioned, and how their universities could be sustainable. As a result, the three large universities that existed in Cuba had to be diffused into over forty smaller universities, because of the energy intensive nature of students commuting from all across the country. Universities began to offer classes on agronomy, because of the need to dramatically increase the number of farmers on small, local farms spread across the country. Cuban universities relocalized out of necessity.

The truth is, is that I don’t know if the large scale changes I am recommending will be enough to enable large universities to survive and thrive in the face of declining cheap fossil fuels. Maybe in the face of peak oil and the global climate crisis, the idea of a 30,000 university populace will become absurd. But the point is, is that we have no reason not to try. Because the only way we actually will be able to keep these large scale universities, is if we radically transform the way they function, and the way they devour large amounts of resources, right now.

I recommend everyone, especially students, to read the empowering commencement address spoken by Paul Hawken at the 2009 University of Portland graduation ceremony (http://www.commondreams.org/view/2009/05/23-2). Author of Blessed Unrest and several other life-changing books, Hawken’s words moved me in a way that calls me to act from my heart, and take on the role of Earth Steward that is now more important for us educated students, than ever.

“The most unrealistic person in the world is the cynic, not the dreamer. Hope only makes sense when it doesn’t make sense to be hopeful. This is your century. Take it and run as if your life depends on it.”—Hawken

Wait. What Happened Five Years Ago?

By Hai Vo

Five summers ago, University of California Irvine Dining & Hospitality signed a multi-million dollar contract with Aramark, one of the largest national and international food service companies, to extend operations from pre-existing residential dining halls to all retail dining locations except for one coffee cart near the Physical Sciences. Aramark “provides a range of food, facility, and other support services to approximately 500 colleges and universities”, allowing for a single source for development of dining and facility management. This single source, a monoculture of sorts, would soon ripple challenges to all stakeholders in our food system – the environment, food producers, consumers, animals, and communities.

Reading over the 28-page document, the agreement is between the “University” (Regents of the University of California) and the “Contractor” (Aramark Educational Services). The contract spans for nearly a decade from August 15, 2004 to June 30, 2014. Within this span, UCI Dining only handles with one contractor as opposed to individual businesses, co-ops, consortiums, or farmers, as they did pre-2004. According to a 2006 article “Aramark: The New Bully on Campus” in UCI’s Jaded Magazine, Ray Giang, then-ASUCI Executive President of Administrative Affairs, noted that “along with the benefits of consolidation fiscal stability and sheer convenience Aramark provided, ‘to be honest, the University gets a bigger kickback, too.”

Hing notes the unjust labor practices that Aramark has had a reputation for, and early looks into the contract have been tested and challenged. “Many full time Aramark employees qualify for public assistance and rely on Medi-cal, low-income housing, and other social programs” in which they are “not afforded the same rights as UC service employees” and prohibited from “organizing or unionizing for higher wages”. Under Section 4A of the contract, “all such employees are employees of the Contractor”. On January 17, 2006, UCI students rallied for insource service workers. According to the American Federaion of State, Countu, and Municipal Employees, “student protestors circled the flagpoles at noon, waved picket signs and heatedly changed their disapproval of the maltreatment of UCI Irvine’s minority workers.” Two months later, Chancellor Michael Drake began dialogue for an in-sourcing agreement for Food Service and Grounds Workers.

Labor challenges have also been seen not only at UC Irvine, but at other colleges, as well. At Duke University, Minnesota Daily writer John Hoff chronicaled the difficulties universities have with contracting to externals food management companies like Aramark. Their Dining Services Director, according to Hoff, “admit

the parameter id is missing

bring[ing] Aramark to campus was a mistake.” These mistakes included poor and tasteless service, high food prices, and apathetic responses to demands. From 2004-2006, the student government and the Student Dining Advisory Committee “voted ‘no confidence’ in Aramark.”

Aramark was ranked number one in its industry in FORTUNE magazine’s 2006 list, consistently ranking as “one of the two three admired companies in its industry as evaluated by peers and industry analysts”.

Sympathizing or not, all the dots don’t line up right.

There are some intriguing notes about UCI Dining’s contract with Aramark.

1. In Section A (General Provisions), M (Ecological Issues), the contract states that “The Contractor is encouraged to be away of the legitimate concerns of the campus community regarding the preservation of the ecological balance in nature, and the impact of the Contractor’s business on the environment.” How is this measured? While one may seem that business is good as any each day, are there imbalances caused by the Contractor?

2. Aramark must employ the following food standards (Section 3A):
• Beef – USDA inspected, Grace Choice
• Ground Beef – Shall not have a fat content to exceed 22% of its weight
• Poultry – USDA inspected, Grade A
• Fish and Seafood – Fish must be a nationally distributed brand, packed under continuous inspection by the U.S. Department of Interior and any other applicable regulatory agencies.
• Eggs and Dairy Products – USDA inspected, Grad A.
• Produce – Number 1 quality.
• Canned Fruits, Fruit Juices and Vegetables, USDA inspected, Grade A Fancy
• All Other Food Products – Must be of comparable quality to the items specified above.
• No veal products may be served.
• The Contractor is encouraged to avoid meat products derived from animals raised in the South American Continent.

“No veal products”? “South American Continent”? Where did they get that from? If you were put this last side-by-side to one that contains certifications like “Grown or Raised within 250 miles from Campus”, “Fair Trade Direct Purchasing”, “USDA Organic”, “Certified Humane”, and “Monterey Bay Seafood Watch Guide ‘Best’ Choices”, it’d be night and day.

3. Within the decade, “ARAMARK shall make a financial commitment to the University in an amount of $2,600,000 (the ‘Financial Commitment’) for food service facility renovations and for the purchase and installation of food service equipment, area treatment, signage, temporary structures for service and other costs associated with the new Student Center and other retail locations for the Campus Food Service Program on Client’s premises.” (Section 3B) Has any of this financial capital been committed to sustainable food efforts?

4. Under Section 3C, “Eating Utensils”, the “Contractor shall provide each customer with high quality disposable plastic eating utensils”, “each customer shall be provided with two napkins”, and “cups and plates may be of either Styrofoam or high quality paper”. Styrofoam and plastic seen in our dining halls are non-biodegradable, causing harm in all levels of the ecocentric food system. While some retail dining locations have provided biodegradable corn-starch to-go containers, it is ostensibly imperative to see it uniform throughout campus. In addition, providing each customer with napkins becomes a behavioral mechanism. Unfortunately, or fortunately, I can do without the large-size bag, three plastic spoons, two paper napkins, and Styrofoam cup and plastic lid for my 16 oz. three-bean chili. I paid for the chili, not the superfluous by-products that will eventually go in the landfill.

5. “The Contractor”, seen in Section 4H, “shall provide adequate training for its employees at all levels of the operations.” As the issue of sustainable food systems increases, it will be important to bring to the table all stakeholders to open the dialogue and become participatory actors in the endeavor.

6. I’m sure students think about and often wonder to change the prices for the food they purchase. Under Section 5B, University members can do just that. Price changes can be proposed in writing by July 31st of each year “with justification and/or documentation which validates the request”. Upon approved validation on August 15, the prices become effective the first of September.

Throughout the past five years, the University of California has drafted “Procedures for Implementation of UC Food Service Policy”. UC campuses are mandated to “source from producers who pay minimum wage, or higher, to workers, as required by state and federal law, and who provide safe workplaces, including protection from chemical exposure, and provision of adequate sanitary facilities and rinking water for workers, as quired by state and federal law”.

Preferences, under a graded criteria, include buying local, certified organic, Certified Humane Raised & Handled (CHRH), sustainable seafood, direct, certified Fair Trade, and worker-supportive food products. The procedures include other measure including waste reduction, water conservation, energy efficiency, and much more.

Aramark has adopted a “Green Thread” into their everyday business operations by reducing their environmental footprint while operationally delivering exceptional results. Within it, they’ve adopted the following principles, or “pillars”: sustainable food, green buildings, waste stream management, responsible procurement, energy & water conservation, and transportation.

Arguments have been made for and against our current contract with Aramark. De facto monopoly. Streamlined processes. Low costs for students. Low-quality food.

Whether or not we realize it, the following is fact. Students pay for their tuition, and students pay for their food. The question becomes a more qualitative one – How does a university, like UC Irvine with 31,000 campus community members, sustain its food system? As you’ve read, there are three varied standards for food system management at UCI – the original contract, the UC Policy on Food Practices, and Aramark’s “Green Thread”. Which one to follow?

Unless a food revolution on the UCI campus takes place, for which I don’t know the practicality of the matter, how can UCI Dining and Aramark best practice environmentally- and ecologically-sound measures to ensure a sustainable nature of feeding its community?

Setting the Table – Hope for the Next Generation

By Halli Winstead

I have been employed as the Sustainability Intern with ARAMARK at The Evergreen State College for over two years now. There have been many days that I have gone home feeling 100% defeated, not necessarily because I wasn’t doing the best I could, but because the road to success was so long and I felt like we had only just begun. In fact there have been many succeses during my employment through increased composting, reduced food waste, increased awareness of our food sources, recycling practices and our switch to 100% compostable to-go wares across campus.

With a name like Evergreen, many people assume we must have all our sustainable ducks all lined up. They are here on campus, scurrying around like good ideas do, but they are in no way lined up, or institutionalized like many of us hoped when we first enrolled. To combat the hippie-ocrisy I joined the small team of “sustainability champions” while still enrolled in the Practice of Sustainable Agriculture Program, in hopes of using my current contacts to develop a solid farm to fork program in Evergreen’s main cafeteria.

In many ways I succeeded, mainly in that I learned and shared a great deal about the complications of connecting small to medium scale growers to the institutional market and made some meaningful connections between willing local growers and the Executive Chef. The on-campus Organic Farm remains our most local, organic source of produce available, though in the past year they have undergone some serious losses through a greenhouse collapse and a suspected arson on their heated greenhouse and tool shed. ARAMARK has shown their support through large monetary donations and regular purchases featured on our salad bar.

What I’ve learned is that there are so many things built into the currently established food system that prevent the overall availability of local food. Many of these barriers fit into the categories of efficiency, cost and food safety.

When I really break it down, it almost makes sense. Sustainability as a concept is not new to the human race, it wasn’t too long ago we all were recycling fanatics that grew produce in our back yards and conserved the limited natural resources that were made available to us. In many places across the world these practices still hold strong. Since that time in the USA, we’ve had the industrial revolution and all those wonderful practices seem to have been pushed to the wayside for the purpose of novelty and convenience. It makes sense then that the institutional model has very limited sustainable concepts built into it. It’s as if sustainability is a whole new idea to the institutional world.

With that in mind, the majority of my experience in the working field of sustainability has been full of opportunities. Unlike any other department, title or job focus, sustainability has yet to have the structure and demands that come with years of finely tuning the machine. Positions in the field of sustainability tend to have vague job descriptions with long lists of responsibilities, giving the employee the opportunity to make real change within their realm. This is an enormous opportunity for those of us working toward a sustainable future to have a large and meaningful impact.

As the title may suggest, I am soon off to my next adventure of bringing a new life into the world. I have spent many a night dreaming about what kind of life my child will have and I am filled with hope. I seem to have a new perspective on what this work has meant to me and how my position’s mere existence shows an enormous amount of growth toward a more sustainable future. I do believe that we can make sustainable food systems a reality, and honestly I think that’s the grain of sand that will tip the scales. Food is the gateway to the heart, we cannot deny that we all need to eat every day and the more we learn the more we realize that healthy nutritious, whether it be local or organic, food makes all the difference.

Majoring in farming, with a concentration in cheese and pastures…

By Kate Turcotte

This blog post has caught me in the middle of final exams, papers, moving into a new apartment, and planting season, but to be honest, it couldn’t have come at a better time. It’s senior year of college, that lovely reflective time when you ask yourself “what HAVE I learned the past four years?” It’s also the time when everyone is asking you what is happening next, and I seriously mean everyone. Some of us have plans and others have made them up. To cut my graduating class some slack, we were not expecting a recession and pandemic flu outbreak to occur on our arrival into the real world. Either way, the time has come for us to be useful to society, so what am I bringing to the table?

Interning at Shelburne Farms on how to make cheddar cheese.

During the last four years, I have been an agriculture student at the University of Vermont. Soon I’ll be a product of the land grant institution, a vision of Vermont Congressman Justin Morrill way back in late 1800’s. During this time, yields were at an all time low due to soil degradation, with some estimates show half the yields from the previous decade. Congressman Morrill believed that the main problem was the need for knowledge and skills to be available to farmers, and that America needed education that provided “the greatest good to the greatest number.” The “College Land Bill” was signed into law by President Abraham Lincoln on July 2, 1862 and the title of the bill reads “An Act donating public lands to the several states and territories which may provide colleges for the benefits of agriculture and the mechanistic arts.” This marked an important period in time for education and agriculture, because it symbolized that farming was worth being taught in universities and it made receiving a college education feasible for almost all Americans.

Throughout the history of the land grant University there has been great debates on how to teach agriculture to students. Morrill wanted the education to be “practical” and “liberal”, which is easier said than done. Agriculture is complex and professors can barely scratch the surface in a four-year degree. There have been many questions, such as should these institutions teach practical agriculture or experimental agriculture? Should they create generalists or specialists? Is agriculture based on science or experience? From the beginning people were skeptical that the purpose of these universities was to teach science rather than farming. The president of the Michigan Agricultural College in 1863 said, “if any gentleman[woman] will point out to me a single move or principle in agriculture that is founded on or is derived from scientific experience, I will own that I am mistaken. I do not know of one. Agriculture is an art. It is has with practice. Now, I claim, that if we place science first, and practice afterwards, we cannot make progress.” During the same time, the president of the Iowa State College said, “No doubt agriculture is an art that is largely based upon experiment… and a man is a better observer who is a thorough scientific man.” In the end, science won and now we have the industrial food system.

Local foods potluck an contra dance during the Vermont Food Summit.

This quick history lesson is to raise this question: what is the role of higher education in creating a sustainable food system? All over the country students are becoming more active with what ends up on their plate. It started as a student movement and is becoming recognized by the opening of Slow Food on Campus chapters and the participating in the Real Food Challenge. Students are growing gardens, taking food system courses, and demanding better food in their dining halls. There is definitely an increasing interest in food and agriculture, but how many young people want to be farmers? If this small scale agriculture is what we want for the future we are going to need a lot more people on the land. What is the best way of learning about diversified agriculture and how to make a living off of it? These aspiring farmers are quirky, creative, and unconventional individuals, so how can we meet their needs why providing enough information about soil ecology, market behavior, weed management, agriculture policy, and so on? There is a lot happening on our college campuses, but not as much on how to become a farmer.

My agriculture education has been based in ecological principles, but still very dependent on the scientific method. I lost many of my friends and classmates in classes like organic chemistry and plant physiology because of their three hour labs in dark dusty rooms. While they found it interesting, it seemed more practical to intern on a farm, gain the hands on experience, and avoid going deeper into college debt. At an all day series of workshops for young and aspiring farmers at the Vermont Food Summit, many students expressed their concern about the education they were receiving. They believed their programs lacked basic skills and knowledge on how to get started as a farmer. The barriers such as access to land, start up capital, and technical assistance are numerous, and a college education should assist in making these barriers smaller.

Last years farm crew at UVM's student run farm

In the past, education at land grant institutes has been driven by the food industries needs and consumer demand. I think that we need to have more programs and colleges dedicated to what the next generation of farmers need to be able to grow good food. Ecological agriculture is an interdisciplinary study with a major emphasis on hands on learning. Students who want to be farmers need a strong background in applied science, basic accounting, problem solving skills, and systems thinking. They should leave college with a complete business plan of their future farm and several years of experience working on different farms in the area or abroad. Every college and university has majors in English, psychology, and chemistry, and there should be as many programs and colleges offering agriculture as a major as there are different farming models in this country. The average age of a farmer in the United States is 55.7 years old, and that number continues to rise during each Census of Agriculture. This seems like a great opportunity for our generation to step in and grow food in the way that we believe is best on the environment, economy, and people. I really do believe that there is a place for alternative farming education in the university system, especially in small liberal arts colleges who are champions of the “practical” and “liberal” education.

If this is something you’d like to learn more about, check out the Sustainable Agriculture Education Association, and consider going to their conference in Iowa this coming July. The website has a list of all of the ecological agriculture programs in the country as well as many other resources. And you all know this, but follow the upcoming documentary The Greenhorns and especially check out their blog that has daily updates on what’s happening in the young farming community. Last of all, I would encourage everyone to read and own a copy of Wendell Berry’s The

Plant view of ag students weeding the onions.

Unsettling of America: Culture and Agriculture, and especially read the chapter about farming and the university system.

To steal from the Greenhorn’s website, I think this is the best quote by Thomas Jefferson to conclude this post with. He said, “Cultivators of the earth are the most valuable citizens. They are the most vigorous, the most independent, the most virtuous, and they are tied to their country and wedded to its liberty and interests by the most lasting bonds.” Think about what our generation can do to be useful, how we can serve the people in our community, and what our role is in changing the food system in America. Good luck to all of the interns, apprentices, students, and young farmers during this upcoming growing season.

Pinching pennies, potlucks, and politics…

By Maggie Lickter

Let’s start with The Question. It is asked in different ways. Sometimes it is posed as “What can I do?” or “How do I make a difference?” or “What types of things should I buy that make the biggest difference?” or as a recent student asked “I’m all about the use of foods from sustainable sources but for the poor college kid this is tough. How do you pinch a penny and still make a difference?” This last question has become even more salient in our failing economy and this blog is devoted to exploring the answers to that question (Part 1) and questioning whether that question is the best question to be asked (Part 2 – which is really the best part, I think).

Part 1 -  For the Consumer 

This morning my room mates and I were eating some yogurt from a particularly green and organic company. We were discussing how we would like to be able to get yogurt in bulk because of the growing stacks of plastic containers we were amassing. My room mate pointed out that a local yogurt maker sells yogurt in re-useable jars that can be returned to the store and they will give you a dollar deposit back. But the yogurt is just so expensive that even with the deposit return it’s totally not feasible for us to afford buying that yogurt. 

So in no particular order here are my practical thoughts on saving money and buying food and making a difference:

1. Cherish food more: Let’s be honest, food just doesn’t matter as much to most folks. A dollar for a song on Itunes seems reasonable to many but what about a dollar for an apple? The percent of our income that we spend on food has drastically decreased over this century. And it’s funny because you can’t eat a CD or a survive off of a wide screen TV. Food keeps us alive.

2. Volunteer: Nonetheless, many of us still struggle with making money ends meet. Volunteering on farms, in co-op grocery stores, and at farmer’s markets are all viable alternatives to spending money on food since most farms, farm stands, and food co-ops have a deal: work for food. Plus it’s a great way to learn about marketing, food systems, and how to…

3. Grow your own: Whether you have a whole backyard garden, pots on your porch, or sprouts in a box in your living room, there’s this wonderfully special thing about food, you can grow it yourself!

4. Join a CSA: Community Supported Agriculture is a great way to get good food. Though the price comparison is probably arguable, I split a CSA box with my roommates, paid $9 a week and had more vegetables than I knew what to do with. 

5. Make your own guidelines : Some people I know won’t buy any “green” food that is double the conventional price. Some people spend more but only for organic dairy. Others get all their fruits and veggies from local sources and buy everything else from a supermarket. Some people eat less meat and then eat more expensive grass fed beef. Pick one thing that you can do and do it. 

6. Eat simple and eat in: Restaurant food is more expensive and though supporting locally owned restaurants is nice, if you’re really trying to save money eating in and eating simple is the way to go. Make a big pot of beans, a big pot of rice and you’ll be set with the basics for the week. 

7. Make food gifts: You know how it’s easier to spend money for other people sometimes? When you’re going to splurge on a gift, make it a food gift. Local honey, artisan cheeses, specialty jams, and handmade yogurt in reuseable containers are all delicious ways to love your loved ones. 

8. Buy bulk: My mom buys cases of bread and then freezes loaves. My neighbors order cases of their favorite teas. Buying bulk saves money and sometimes packaging and gives you the incentive to start sharing bulk purchases with roommates, neighbors, and family. It’s kind of the same reasoning behind Costco but go to your local grocer instead.

9. Glean and forage: Gleaning projects are popping up around the country with the recognition that when food grows, it often grows abundantly. Gleaning is the art and practice of harvesting fruit that would otherwise go unused – think your neighbor’s fruit tree or zucchini plant. I still haven’t figured out why people buy rosemary in my town considering it grows on every street corner; start tapping into your hunting/gathing self. Did you know you can eat most weeds? Obviously, make sure you know what you’re eating since some weeds are also severely toxic but find some lambs quarter, dandelion, and purselane and you have a gourmet, local, healthy salad mix. As for hunting squirrels, I wont give any advice on that one. 

 

Part 2 – Beyond Consumption

If Part 1 is dedicated to thinking about your choices as a consumer, Part 2 explores ideas for “making a difference” beyond consuming. The fact is, it sucks to feel guilty about not being green enough because you don’t have the money to buy, for example, local, organic, yogurt packaged in re-useable containers.  As much as I’m a fan of the slogan “Vote with your fork!” and as much as I believe that our food choices have far reaching effects on our world, I am more than a consumer. We’ve learned to define ourselves in terms of what we buy, eat, wear, and drink but we’re not just vortexes for widgets and bananas; we’re thinking, creating, producing, political beings that can affect change beyond what we hoover up at the supermarket or the dining halls. 

As I started thinking about writing this blog I started talking and listening to people for clues on how to go beyond being a consumer. In the process, of discovering some gems to this answer, I also waded through the “Tell me what brands to buy” and “I just want to buy good stuff” comments which I realized are more ubiquitous than I might have originally guessed. In no way have I found the answer to my question of moving beyond consumption (I’m guessing it’s one of those answers that is going to be ever evolving) but I think I found some worthwhile directions to pursue.

One of the most useful tools I’ve found to think about the importance and wide ranging effects of food, and therefore the wide range of choices to interact with food comes from an organization that I’ve been working with called the Real Food Challenge. The goal of the Real Food Challenge is to unite students to build a more just and sustainable food system. We use what we call the Real Food Wheel to illustrate many of the facets of life that connects to food.

 People are passionate about different portions of this wheel. Some people work to create connections between coffee farmers abroad and coffee drinkers in the US like the Community Agroecology Network, others are focusing on nutrition in grade school curriculum, others make sure people have access to food by making local grocery stores like People’s Grocery, some folks are building backyard gardens, while some are boycotting food chains and dining services to ensure laborers get paid fairly like the Student/Farmworker Alliance and some people are throwing potluck parties and eating food together. 

This last activity is one of my favorites and I think one of the most important and simple ways of acting beyond consumerism. In a conversation I was having with my best friend about being more than consumers she said, “I think a big part of it is ending isolation”. This got me thinking, perhaps what we consume is just as important as who we share it with. As I suggested before, we are more than what we buy, eat, wear and drink; we are friends, family, lovers, and community members to other people. We can create our own entertainment for each other by just being together. Therefore I stand behind the idea that throwing a party is a great way to make a difference. As a good friend of mine said, “Let’s not be force-fed music and food, let’s make it from our places and times.”

The other day, Erik Knudtsen, an urban homesteader in LA who grows food, raises chickens, builds his own grey water treatment systems and maintains a rockin’ blog came and spoke at my school. He was encouraging the audience to do what they could; he didn’t urge people to grow all their own food but to just start with one project. One of the students raised their hands and said “Okay, so if I grow a tomato plant and get like seven tomatoes, so what? Why is that important? I’m probably not really offsetting many costs or making the world more environmentally friendly”. Erik Knudtsen responded by saying that first off those will be the best seven tomatoes you ever ate and secondly these acts (i.e. growing one tomato plant) are symbolic. They’re small but important because they start changing things in your world. They change your experience (even if just a little) and the experience of others who walk by and see your lone tomato plant growing. “It’s like alchemy” he said “turning base metals into gold.” That got me thinking about this house plant I have growing over my bed that I really love. And it’s not sucking up a whole bunch of carbon dioxide and going to fix global warming but it’s important because I love it and it makes me happy. And I love my rosemary and fig tree that I planted also.  

The thing about consumption is that it requires money. And most of these things that I’m suggesting also require a certain amount of money though my point is that money is not central to their existence. The truth is our food system is classist and organic food consumption often times verges on elitist. Overcoming isolation and practicing symbolic acts of food growing have the potential to be inclusive practices where we challenge histories and social boundaries that have traditionally separated us from each other.  Parties can be thrown in parks and open spaces; plants (like fig and rosemary) can be grown from cuttings; public lands are susceptible to guerilla gardening; and many schools and communities are starting or maintaining farms and gardens where you can grow all sorts of things. The wonderful thing about seeds is that they can be saved! Which gets me to the point that there are perfectly free and extremely important things you can do to make a difference.

  I would say that educating yourself and then others is number one. Without gaining knowledge about food systems and agriculture we cannot expect anything to change. The powers that be have converged to invisiblize (not a real word but one that I like) all sorts of really important things about our food like where it came from, how it was made, what’s in it, who made it, who made money from it, and who got the short end of the stick out of the whole deal. Your dining services for instances has contracts and purchasing orders that detail the rules by which the game is played. No matter how much food you consume you will not change those rules without knowing them. Unraveling the stories behind food is necessary to make demands for a new order. Which gets me to making demands for a new order.

Get political! Whether it’s collaborating with or boycotting against your dining services, local government or state and national policy, do something. There’s a host of activities that anyone can do to partake in the creation of a world that’s reflective of what they believe in: writing letters to the editor, attending campus stakeholder meetings, writing comment cards in your dining halls, showing up at city council meetings, forming or joining a student group on campus, calling your senators, and running for office yourself to name a few. As it turns out we live in a democracy which means we have the power to make our voices and values heard. When Raj Patel, author of Stuffed and Starved, came to speak at my school about our extremely unhealthy, illogical, fuel-dependent, inequitable food system one student asked him The Question, “What do you suggest I buy to make a difference?” Raj answered that was the wrong question to be asking and suggested instead that “we are not consumers of democracy but its proprietors.”  

I haven’t quite figured out a conclusion for this blog so in a way I guess there just isn’t one. Which means the discussion is still going. Write your comments, agree, disagree, talk to your friends, heck, talk to the plants and let’s keep building on this…

Public Housing, Urban Agriculture and University Students

By Becky Davies

 

Row after row of identical windows extend up the dusky, red brick facades of nine austere, depersonalized high rises, as if stamped mechanically on each floor of the twenty-one story buildings. Residents identify their buildings by number—“1320,” “570,” “75”. The towers feel and look more like human warehouses than someone’s home. Situated between Harlem to the north and small shops catering to Columbia University to the south, Grant Houses residents keenly note their position in a valley, which prevents the towers from completely overshadowing the adjacent neighborhoods.

 

Built in 1957, the General Ulysses S. Grant Houses embody French architect Le Corbusier’s ‘Towers in the Park’ ideal. Le Corbusier’s designs aimed to increase housing density yet expose residents to the purportedly moralizing influences of nature. During a wave of public housing construction in the 1950s and 1960s, the New York City Housing Authority (NYCHA) wholeheartedly adopted the concept, plunking public housing developments amidst swaths of cleared urban space.

 

However, during the next sixty years construction deficiencies, insufficient funding, and increasing social and economic isolation led to the progressive deterioration of what became known as “the projects.” Access to the green spaces surrounding the Grant Houses was eventually restricted to use as a dog run, with ball-playing, picnics, and barbecues specifically prohibited. Now, the thin green carpet skirting the monoliths is sprinkled with refuse, from broken couches to candy wrappers.

 

Yet even the feeble lawns hint at a relationship between the natural landscape and the intensely constructed built environment, suggesting that green space adds value to urban areas. At the Grant Houses, a few signs of human interaction with the natural world exist in the form of three small gardens in various states of order or decay. One hosts a conscious pattern of pansies and daffodils, while a tangle of overgrown bushes and vines choke another’s chain link fencing.

 

These gardens are part of NYCHA’s Garden Program, an initiative started in 1962 that currently supports over 570 public housing gardens city-wide. Community gardens gained steam in New York City in the 1970s and have battled private development and property regulations ever since. Nonetheless, recent trends towards increasing environmental awareness and reducing carbon emissions have invigorated urbanites’ drive to establish community gardens as sites for growing food locally, providing environmental education and uniting fragmented neighborhoods. Efforts range from well-developed, non-profit endeavors such as Added Value’s 2.5-acre farm in Red Hook, Brooklyn, to private fire escapes lush with lettuce and strawberries.

 

In New York City, Le Corbusier-style public housing, despite its faults, offers a distinct advantage for urban agriculture in densely populated areas. Although the existing gardens at the Grant Houses are ornamental, at other NYCHA developments residents utilize NYCHA’s property to grow produce.

 

With the potential benefits of a community food garden in mind, in the summer of 2008 I initiated a partnership between Grant Houses residents and Columbia students to construct a vegetable garden at the Grant Houses. Thus far the initiative has focused on engaging youth and seniors, the least mobile and therefore most accessible resident subpopulations. The Grant Houses Community Garden Project is creating a model for community development via environmental education and food production, cultivating cross-sectional relationships that will improve the physical environment.

 

For many Grant Houses residents, however, the appeal of cultivating the land is overshadowed by other pressing concerns. Inadequate trash disposal, youth vagrancy, physical health problems, broken elevators, and anxiety over gentrification and potential displacement resulting from redevelopment take precedence over gardening. Furthermore, an intergenerational divide frustrates attempts by the more active community spokespeople—those who facilitate meetings and events through the Grant Houses Tenants Association—to involve youth and young parents in community endeavors. Physically taxing, gardening presents a particular challenge to the elderly residents most interested in reaping the benefits of gardening.

 

The obstacles to establishing a community food garden and education program at the Grant Houses are precisely those which such an endeavor has the potential to alleviate. Reclaiming land, gardens create public spaces for residents of all ages to interact. Functioning as outdoor classrooms, gardens can provide ongoing extracurricular activities to engage youth. A newly attractive, productive landscape could improve both the immediate environment and restore residents’ pride in the buildings and grounds. Gardens can reduce residents’ food costs and supplement their diets with nutritious produce, combating high rates of diet-related health problems among residents that further inhibit their physical activity. Most importantly, gardens can offer residents a degree of control over their food supply, their housing development, and their community.

 

While similar models are sprouting around the country, the scarcity of space and diverse populations in New York City affect the form and function of agricultural community development initiatives. In the Grant Houses, an elderly Chinese immigrant population expresses enthusiasm for the opportunity to reconnect with an agrarian lifestyle that many left behind in China. Elderly African-American senior citizens, who migrated to New York City from the rural south in the 1950s, likewise can recall farm work but convey varying degrees of excitement or distaste for gardening in the city, reflecting mixed perceptions of past experiences. A diverse group of Columbia students and Grant Houses youths bring physical energy and modern technological skills to the endeavor but lack agricultural experience, having grown up in predominantly suburban and urban environments. Additionally, an array of local institutional officials is necessarily involved to ensure the legal viability of the endeavor.

 

While students and residents acknowledge that a community food garden will not cure all of the problems plaguing the Grant Houses, harnessing the complementary skill sets of neighborhood groups holds promise for alleviating some of residents’ most pressing concerns. The endeavor could set a precedent for community-wide greening initiatives. The garden project is not charity, it is a working partnership. We all will benefit from a healthier, cleaner neighborhood. At the least, the garden will create a resource for healthy, sustainably-grown food that did not exist for residents prior to the garden’s creation. With the realization of the garden, perhaps the Grant Houses will finally reclaim the ideals of the green space promised in Le Corbusier’s urban housing plans.

Terps Go Green

By Christian Melendez

With tens of thousands of students (and a tall size of visitors), the University of MD has to feed many mouths.  Sometimes in life, quality is exchanged for quantity.  This is a major concern here in College Park.  On top of our large student body, the university includes a Conference and Visitor Services for conferences, hosts high school graduations, and has plenty more folks coming through which makes the goal for a full menu of local, fair trade certified, organic food daunting.  Dining Services director Colleen Wright-Riva said that “Dining Services will encounter challenges involving costs, policy and logistics. ”  But she and others are noting that a few stirrings in different areas of the school are pushing us toward making the transition towards this fresh food.  Naturally, this isn’t moving as fast as one would hope, but its still happening.

Let me set the stage a little more.  University President Dan Mote affirmed his commitment to reducing the campus’ greenhouse gas emissions in 2007 when he signed the American College & University Presidents Climate Commitment.  His signature was a nod towards opening the new Office of Sustainability and working towards a “climate neutral plan”.  In light of this, the word “green” is coming up everywhere and many more events are being held around this theme.  In the meantime, Dining Services has:

• Launched a Green Dining website
• Held an Eat Smart campaign which included posting nutritional info online and having a dietician available for free consultation at dining halls
• Experimented with an herb garden on the North Campus Diner’s rooftop
• Composted its food waste
• Changed its seafood policy to only purchasing that which meets the “best choices” or “good alternatives” categories as determined by Seafood Watch or the Marine Stewardship Council
• Collaborated with Athletics on a “Feed the Turtle” waste program, which resulted in a 41% diversion rate from landfills after just two Terp football games in Fall 2008
• Switched from styrofoam containers to bagasse containers, which are compostable
• Transitioned to only serving fair trade coffee
• Held an Eat-In initiative to reduce bagasse container usage

In almost 6 years, I’ve heard a ton of complaints about the university, yet I think not enough credit has been handed to them for their push towards a greener dining atmosphere.

Now let’s go off-campus.  With the support of the university, food is a centerpiece of community development.  UMD oversees the Engaged University, which runs under the College of Agriculture and Natural Resources, where it is a division of the Maryland Cooperative Extension.  Originally, the university started as a land-grant institute and was called the Maryland Agriculture College, designed to help this area’s farmers.  In the spirit of engaging the community, through the use of agriculture, the Engaged University launched the Master Peace Garden in nearby Riverdale Heights, MD.  EU offers youth programs, such as a youth bike shop, a summer youth program, and after-school activities, and a community space.  The garden is going on its 3rd season, but has transformed into the Master Peace Community Farm.  I’ll post a video we made for a contest that explained the evolution and future of the food project (but the audio was cut by YouTube; hopefully it’ll be fixed soon but enjoy the visuals!)

With countless hours of volunteer work and the anchor of its manager, Vinnie Bevivino, the former garden is a thriving half-acre urban “farm” project.  

Here are some of the major accomplishments:

• It hosts over 20 community garden plots
• Acts as a outdoor classroom
• Composts all its “waste”
• Built a small on-site greenhouse
• Constructed a high tunnel for season extension
• Sells its food weekly at the Riverdale Farmers Market

Working there last season changed my life.  Its role as a catalyst for community development in this diverse neighborhood by providing organic fruits and veggies and a place to grow for families has made so many folks look at food in a new, yet old, way.  Food has been taken for granted in our society as so many of us run around constantly, which can easily be seen at UMD.  Yet there are reasons to see a change in the seasons.

 Students are becoming informed and aware of the many issues surrounding food.  Right now, a tunnel is being built in our student union to host interactive themes of oppression.  The first room you enter is the Food and Water room.  We have created amazing exhibits to highlight crucial topics, like voting with your fork, bottled water use, and the dark side of industrial agriculture.  In addition, the Residence Hall Association is demanding fresher foods for cooking, not just processed snacks, at one campus convenience store.  People are caring more about where there food comes from and how so much is affected by what you eat, from your body to the planet.

But plenty of improvements lie ahead, and for me, the biggest is transitioning to local, organic food, especially in a self-sufficient sense.  With the inspiration of a proposal writing assignment in English class and working on the SGA’s Sustainability Council, I am trying to rally students together who want to work with the university’s faculty and staff on a different purchasing policy and a student farm.  The university’s large influence could push for more organic farmers in the area.  And beyond looking for farmers, the university maintains excellent resources on doing its own farming.  The example of the Master Peace Community Farm, and expertise of the Cooperative Extension and College of AGNR, should cast aside much doubt on the university’s ability to grow some of its own food and compost its own food waste, while acting as an outdoor classroom and supporting the President’s climate agreement.

 

Green Dining and Master Peace didn’t happen overnight.  However, with the collaboration of students, faculty, and staff, I don’t think its a fool’s dream to see UMD’s dining halls supplied with more “real food”.

  

 

 

Regional, Seasonal: Feasible

At the AASHE (Association for the Advancement of Sustainability in Higher Education) conference last fall (2008), Vandana Shiva spoke to an eager audience that everything eats, no exceptions. The soil eats compost nutrients and manure, the plants eat soil and water, and humans (among other animals) eat those plants. There are, of course, many more actors in the food system beyond this little stream, but what is critical is recognizing our place in this delicate cycle. Our intimacy with the rest of the food ecology necessitates that we be cautious of the decisions we make about what food to eat, grow, cook, and support.  

Caring for chard at the university green house (photo courtesy Sally Hertz)

At Truman State University in Kirksville, Missouri, we are fortunate to be living in an agricultural area; we have a large farm with two small greenhouses, a cider press, a compost heap that is fed by our dining halls, and productive animals; we have a community of farmers who see themselves as stewards; we have activist neighbors to fight with us against an incoming CAFO (confined animal feeding operation). What we didn’t have until recently is a food service administration that saw incorporating these resources into our already well established food operation as feasible and profitable. In 2005, I started to campaign for the change with several other students who shared my concerns. With a small group of students from the Environmental Campus Organization (ECO), I tabled on campus, got hundreds of signatures on a petition for local, organic food, and started talking to our food service director. Our school is contracted with Sodexo, and I soon realized that to break through any bureaucratic road blocks, I’d have to speak with other universities in the Midwest (since Sodexo operates under regional regulations) that have already made a transition to more independently sourced foods. By working with our local Hyvee, we were able to start carrying a nearby Mennonite dairy’s milk, in glass bottles in convenience stores, and they agreed to purchase meats from a more sustainable producer for holiday meals.

Discussing local food purchasing options at the 2008 "Regional, Seasonal: Feasible" supper (photo courtesy the Truman Media Network)

In 2007, we organized a local food dinner for over 100 people, to show that it was possible. And in 2008, we did it again. This time, we invited the key players in the food game: food administrators, students who had been active in the project, and faculty who were on our side. We were also able to show the Sustainable Food Systems conference DVD from the previous spring, which explains how typical set backs for transitioning to local and organic foods can be overcome. The viewing was helpful, but our food service management still had concerns about insurance risks, the time it would take to organize picking up food from multiple farmers rather than a single distributor (Sysco), and the seasonal limitations of local food.

Networking with other universities made changes happen faster. By allowing Sodexo administrators from other Midwest schools to talk directly to our own, we got past the feeling that neither party fully understood our perspective. Donna Bauck and Sandy Olson-Loy at the University of Minnesota Morris were particularly helpful in explaining how to set up an external purchasing route for ease of local food distribution. At the end of last year, a general commitment was made to begin purchasing local foods. But as students, this doesn’t mean stepping back. This semester, several students are expanding on a local food directory so the necessary contacts are in the hands of our food service and our friends. The current directory can be seen at http://www.foodcircles.missouri.edu/nemoeatlocal.pdf. A small group of students is extending our real food system philosophy to a garden project at Ray Miller Elementary school in Kirksville, equipped with its own dining hall compost. Good food, as Slow Food founder Carlo Petrini emphasizes, is socially just, environmentally sound, and economically feasible. As active food citizens, growing, cooking, preserving, feeding, and eating, it’s our responsibility to nourish good food.