As you may have seen on our Twitter and Facebook, today is Food Revolution Day. Started by Jamie Oliver, he urges people to do their little bit to stand up for real food and bring food education to children. He’s got over 600 cities in over 50 countries pledged to do something today, and you can join him live at 8 PM EST tonight. The problem at hand is big, and change begins with each of us.

So for today, do a little bit. Maybe head to the farmer’s market this morning for your breakfast and skip the fast food and refined sugars of the inner aisles of the supermarket. Anything.

I’ll try to make tonight, Jamie, but I’m gonna be enjoying some real food at a real Southern crawfish boil with real friends.

Your little bit today and everyday counts.

In my time away from the wine industry (sad moments!), I work in research at a marketing institute that’s very keen on learning about growth and brand development. We work for clients who represent some of the biggest international names in consumer goods. And we — I should say they, my colleagues — do it awfully well.

Aylward Farm in Victoria, Australia... home to the the very small, very successful Ocean Eight Winery

As I straddle two worlds, I wonder how marketing growth strategies and formulas might apply in the wine world, where so many companies are extremely small and under-capitalized. At its heart, wine is a very agriculturally oriented industry. Even the world’s biggest wine companies top out at about 3% of the global market share. Everyone is struggling to get their name out to consumers, sell enough wine to afford grapes next year, and keep the business ticking over. With so many competitors (check out your local wine shop… thousands of labels kicking around!), how can small businesses rise above? More to the point, how can they rise above within the finite resources of land and vines?

Growth-driven marketing aims to create companies with ever-greater production. But part of the joy of good wine is that it comes from specific spots on the earth; ground does not expand very fast. Quality wine, among many of life’s luxuries (think coffee, chocolate, seafood, diamonds), is diluted literally and figuratively when more is made. Overextend the resources, and quality drops across the board. Nevermind what it does to our souls to get luxuries on the cheap. Some things are worth a bit more effort and cash.

Yarra Yering's current releases are among the best and most expensive Aussie wines

There’s another way: charge more for the little you produce. The Atlantic recently ran an article about boutique California wineries whose wines cost anywhere from $400-$1400 depending on vintage. We can debate ad nauseam whether wines are ever worth that kind of money (I’d argue no), but who can blame acclaimed producers for squeezing every cent from their grapes? Well, I suppose the average folks who can’t shell out hundreds for bottles might get a little angsty. This is one reason wine gets the image of pretentiousness… which makes less expensive wines hard to sell to the average folks…

Is there a way to produce, sell, and repeat in a continuous cycle? For wine, as well as for our vegetables, our clothes, our coffee, our chocolate, our toys. Can companies grow or even survive by producing good quality on a local, sustainable level? Do co-operatives offer a scalable alternative that allows the little guys to stay little? What will become of the marketers and their careers? We love to make things grow… but what if we try to grow a philosophy as its own fortune.

Could we learn to sell “less?”

An old-school wine press. One of the many reasons good wine takes time.

For another look at places that focus on eco-friendly eating rather than just mass selling, check out this Food of the Farm article about South Africa.

On Friday, I had the most unique opportunity to be in a parade to celebrate the grand opening of the magnificent Nature Research Center at the North Carolina Museum of Natural Sciences. A 24-hour party, the rich diversity of North Carolina was on full display as people representing different nations behind the Governor. Each country held a pitcher of water from the rivers from that country or region, from the Mekong in Cambodia to the Yukon in Alaska, United States. It was quite a wonderful celebration of international friendship and of the knowledge that we are all so deeply connected to our Earth.

The Nature Research Center is an incredible place – a must stop for any local resident or visitor to North Carolina – with scientists on hand to readily share their work – whether looking at NASA’s solar system (for ANY space lover, check out: solarsystem.nasa.gov/eyes – it is mad cool) or “diving” under water to the life beneath our seas. For those who don’t believe in science, you still might find some things worthy at this center. If anything, it is a place for folks of any age to investigate, question, and explore.

I loved the idea of each country holding a pitcher of river water that was then poured into a communal basin. “Sir Walter Raleigh” then poured the combined water of these life sources and watered the new tree in front of the museum. Beautiful. Sounds cheesy, but it was sort of cool to see Ethiopian-Americans checking out the Chinese-Americans lion dancers, and the Brazilian-Americans teaching the Turkish-Americans how to do capoeira. Add to that some dancing trees and animals, and you got yourself a pretty great parade.

I do have a bone to pick with the event, however. Well, two bones. The first is that at the front of the parade was not the contingent with the members of the Lumbee tribe – the first peoples of the U.S. – but a dude dressed up in an English costume waving the BRITISH flag! I learned that this was “Sir Walter Raleigh,” and while Sir Raleigh, you kinda looked great…is the British flag leading the way really the the symbol we want to have? (I mean no disrespect, Britain – I used to be a subject and still love you. I’m just sayin’).

The second is that I couldn’t help but observe that while folks from Greece to India to the Philippines were in their full colorful regalia standing on one side of the street, the “VIPs” (aka government folks) were dressed in their black suits on the other. Aside from one or two brown faces, that crowd was pretty much…homogenous. Again, I mean no disrespect, VIPs. I appreciate all that you do. However, I couldn’t help but wonder whether the voice of women, minorities, the indigenous, and other underrepresented peoples were engaged. This is a  question not for this event per se, but for me, a broader issue of the lack of these voices when we talk about Earth Day or sustainable or organic food. If you think I’m groundless in this thought, take a real look around you the next time you go to the farmer’s market.

I was asked by a young woman at the museum what I thought was the biggest threat to biodiversity. My answer: Man.

Man: that is, all of us human beings, regardless of which flag we hold or which costume we wear (white tights included, you go, Sir Raleigh!). Yes, everyday should be Earth Day, just like everyday should be Mother’s Day, but today, let’s stop for a moment and just reflect on how deeply rooted we all our to the rivers that quench our thirst, the trees that shade our eyes, and the mountains that shield us from the winds. And we, Man, are deeply responsible (yes, you too) for what is happening to our Earth. We see it in food shortages, we see it in drylands that can no longer support harvest, we see it in early strawberries at the farmer’s market that are not quite summer sweet.

We all are part of the problem, and we all need to be part of the solution.

If you want to see more:

Source: www.stuff.co.nz

I have a soft spot for Dr. Seuss (go Big Green!). Like his gabillion and one fans, I never cease to be amazed by his ability to strike at the heart of critical environmental, political, and social issues with a deft hand and a playful heart. He understood that impactful, sustainable change requires people to first pay attention, be open to the message, and to understand the relevance of the issue to their own lives. He also understood that we are all children at heart – and that we are at our best when we can be creative and play (yes, even those of you who declare, “I don’t have a creative bone in my body.” I don’t believe it, and neither did Dr. Seuss).

The many, MANY studies out there about climate change, obesity, energy consumption are important, but let’s be real. Unless you are being paid to research or read them, you probably aren’t delving too deeply into the footnotes or checking to see the standard deviation of the mean.

Sometimes I feel like we’re preaching to the choir – and the many great news outlets out there that focus on the ever-important issues of environmentalism, food safety, and sustainability probably do too. We may disagree about things, such as the ethics of eating animals or veganism or the benefits of soy, but we are all participating in these discussions. Yet there are still many Americans who do not participate (my family included), not because they don’t care, but because they often don’t see the relevance as a priority of their already super-busy lives.

Yesterday, the New York Times published an interesting article that summarized two studies showing that challenges easily-accepted notions that access to healthy foods is the solution to fighting obesity. Gina Kolata notes poor urban neighborhoods are not always food deserts (places without access to healthy foods), but rather, “food swamps,” places that have an overbundance of food choices. These many food choices, from grocery stores, to fast food chains, to convenience stores, do not automatically lead to healthier food choices because people don’t always choose the healthiest option. Despite the great attention placed on obesity and the many programs out there, obesity rates have not really changed in ten years.

Source (to the right): www.blogdowntown.com

These studies shouldn’t be surprising. Just having access doesn’t mean change.

Just last week, where I live in Durham, NC, a grocery store in a former “food desert” closed. TROSA, a wonderful local nonprofit organization that works with substance abusers, had opened a grocery store two years ago in Northeast Durham to give local residents access to healthy foods.  The next closest grocery store is 3 miles away, and on public transportation, that 3 miles can take up to 90 minutes. The grocery store made available fresh fruit and greens, something that “is a rare thing in east Durham” (WRAL, April 13, 2012). According to TROSA, 70% of their customers went by foot.

However, although 70 to 100 customers shopped per day, the average basket size was $5. Without selling tobacco or alcohol, both of which traditionally increase sales at stores, the grocery store just could not survive and is closing with a $100,000 loss (NBC, April 11, 2012).

Or think about it this way: you have limited time, you walk (scratch that, most Americans drive…grrr…see note below about going outside), you drive down the street and need to pick something up quickly. You have been reading about healthy eating, you saw Super Size Me, you’re trying to eat better. You’re not in a food desert, but in a food swamp where there are plenty of food establishments. In front of you is a grocery store that offers some salad options if you park the car – go through the supermarket aisles and get a prepared salad that looks…kinda sad wrapped up in a plastic container – and five five fast food chains that make it easy and inexpensive to fill the belly with hot, seemingly freshly-cooked (if you believe that, you’re on another planet) food.

What do you do? If you are like most people, you make that “exception” and grab a burger and fries. Unfortunately, these exceptions come far too often.

Change, as Dr. Seuss knew, requires awareness, acceptance, and relevancy. Dr. Seuss had this uncanny ability to sneak these issues into everyone’s daily lives, to plant the seed of concern and compassion. So on this Sunday – Earth Day – let’s honor what Dr. Seuss taught us:

• It IS up to each of us to protect the planet and each other (that includes taking control of our food choices);
• Kids instinctively know what is right and what is wrong; and
• People are more willing to learn and adapt behaviors when they are at play and feel ownership of their decisions.

How do we each become responsible to help our planet and our food systems?

• Start with the small stuff that make it fun for you and your family: instead of spending the day going to the mall or playing video games, take one hour to volunteer together at a food bank.
• Find easy ways to save (money, the planet, your health): next week, instead of buying the processed snack bags of chips (which are expensive, not to mention wasteful in packaging and not so good for the body), drop some grapes in an old Ziploc bag.
• Get outside: go outside. Go outside. It is that simple. Walk instead of drive – even if it means walking to the busstop. You don’t need to read studies about climate change, just go outside, and you’ll get why it’s an important issue.*

*Have you ever noticed how eager little kids are to get outside, even if it is to stare at the bug on the sidewalk for ten minutes? We’re NEVER too old to do this. Relax. No one will laugh at you. Even if they, do you care? Kids who are exposed to the natural world generally have a greater appreciation for how we live and eat and a possess a greater love of learning. And since we’re kids at heart, this applies to us, too.

Getting outside not only gives you a chance to breathe (ideally, not outside on a freeway with strip malls, but somewhere with something naturally green), but it also unexpectedly and slowly gives you a greater appreciation for why our Earth needs your help. Being outside also helps you to s-l-o-w down. Believe it or not, being outside also can help you to naturally eat better without reading a whole bunch of studies. I know after an hour outside in the beautiful sun, the last thing I want is a a dried up “burger.” I want a juicy pear. It just happens. Go outside.

Mister! he said with a sawdusty sneeze,
I am the Lorax. I speak for the trees.
I speak for the trees, for the trees have no tongues.
And I’m asking you, sir, at the top of my lungs–
he was very upset as he shouted and puffed–
What’s that THING you’ve made out of my Truffula tuft?

…

But now, says the Once-ler,
Now that you’re here,
the word of the Lorax seems perfectly clear.
UNLESS someone like you
cares a whole awful lot,
nothing is going to get better.
It’s not.

-The Lorax

About play and having fun: who doesn’t love candy? Here’s a healthier way to enjoy something sweet.

Celebrate Earth Day. Go play. Speak for the Trees.

Baked Brie with Candied Pecans and Cranberries

Ingredients
1 sheet frozen puff pastry, thawed
1 8-ounce wheel of Brie
1/3 cup chopped pecans
1 TB butter
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1/3 cup cranberries
1/3 cup brown sugar
1 egg, beaten

Directions
1. Preheat oven to 375.
2. Roll out puff pastry sheet on a cookie sheet.
3. Melt butter.
4. Add pecans and toast (do not burn) (2-3 minutes).
5. Put Brie wheel in the middle of the puff pastry.
6. Add pecans on top of Brie.
7. Add brown sugar on top of pecan (it will start to melt)
8. Add cranberries on top of brown sugar.
9. Fold puff pastry together and press to seal.
10. Brush with beaten egg.
11. Bake for 15-20 minutes until it is a golden brown.

What I find fascinating are the discussions surrounding this – I admit, I am one that loves to read comments. I like reading what people are really thinking. For example:

“I seriously doubt if any country outside the USA or Europe has ever wondered aloud if it is ethical to eat meat. Given the multitude of crises facing the world at present, doesn’t it seem a little bit silly to be a cape-wearing “crusader of the cows”?”

This reader has a good point – we are terribly privileged to even engage in such conversations. Certainly, the eat animals/don’t eat animals debate generates a lot of passion – and with passion also comes some misunderstanding of each others’ point. Engaging in conversation and raising awareness with others also require skillful balance to avoid sounding arrogant or pedantic. This is why writers such as Mark Bittman, Michael Pollan, Tom Philpott, and Barry Estabrook, are so effective and popular. They raise critical questions, but do so in a way that sounds like your buddy sharing something new they’ve read rather than sounding like your math teacher telling you that under no uncertain circumstances can an imaginary number be anything else but.

So it comes as no surprise as the judges for this contest are the trusted sources of: Peter Singer, Michael Pollan, Mark Bittman, Jonathan Safran Foer and Andrew Light. But as some commenters including strong female voices, note: there are zero female judges for this contest. Why is that? Where are the women? It’s not like there aren’t leading female voices in food (uh, Joan Gussow (love her), Marion Nestle? Alice Waters? Michele Simon?)

As the Atlantic asked, “is consuming animals a feminist issue?”

What do you think?

In the meantime, here is a vegan version of the Szechuan dish, Ma Po Tofu. Speaking of women, the name of this dish is loosely translated to “Pockmarked-Face Lady’s Tofu.” There are different versions…this one is easy, not-too-spicy, and kid-friendly. It’s meat-eater-friendly, vegan-friendly, male-friendly, female-friendly…tummy-friendly.

Vegan Ma Po Tofu
1 package firm or extra firm tofu, cubed
1/2 onion, chopped
2 cups mushroom, sliced
3 green onions, sliced
3 TB black bean sauce (more to taste)
2 TB soy sauce
Red chili flakes (season to liking)
Salt
Oil

1. Heat oil over medium-high heat. Add onions and saute until translucent.
2. Add mushrooms and saute
3. Add tofu and cook thoroughly.
4. Add black bean sauce, soy sauce, chili flakes, and salt to taste.
5. Add green onions.
6. Serve over bed of brown rice or quinoa with some greens

The European Union and USDA organic certification logos

The predicted numbers are indeed staggering.  The US Department of Agriculture predicts that US organic exports to Europe (mainly grain for animal feed) will triple within three years [source: NPR].  However, to think critically about the larger and longer-term potential impact of this agreement, as well as to discuss customer wants, we should consider the actual legal definition of “organic.”

In the US and throughout the EU, organic means that crops are grown without pesticides, fertilizers, GMO, irradiation, or sewage sludge, and animals are raised without hormones or antibiotics*.  These legal definitions are considered to promote soil and water health, as well as a broad idea of agro-environmental sustainability.  According to emerging research on the organic industry though, the term “organic,” should not be understood as “sustainable.”

A recent NY Times article entitled, “Organic Agriculture May Be Outgrowing Its Ideals,” provides convincing evidence for this claim.  Profiling Mexico’s “thriving new organic export sector” on the Baja Peninsula, the article reports:

While the original organic ideal was to eat only local, seasonal produce, shoppers who buy their organics at supermarkets, from Whole Foods to Walmart, expect to find tomatoes in December and are very sensitive to price. Both factors stoke the demand for imports.

Few areas in the United States can farm organic produce in the winter without resorting to energy-guzzling hothouses. In addition, American labor costs are high. Day laborers who come to pick tomatoes in this part of Baja make about $10 a day, nearly twice the local minimum wage. Tomato pickers in Florida may earn $80 a day in high season.

Moreover, the intensive irrigation demands are increasingly overtaxing the local water supply throughout the Baja Peninsula.  As a result, some local wells have run dry this year and have thus prevented many smaller subsistence farmers from growing their own crops.

Organic certifications on both sides of the Atlantic originally intended to promote environmental health (in the US at least, “organic” rules have never specified that farm workers on certified organic operations have decent wages and/or living conditions).  Nonetheless, general ideals like “environmental sustainability” are as difficult to enforce as they are to define and measure at the federal level given that individual farms exist in unique environmental, social, economic, and cultural contexts.  So, before confusing federal organic certifications with other food and farming adjectives, consider the following while deciding what “sustainable” means to you [source: Marion Nestle]:

• Local means foods grown or raised within a given radius that can range from a few to hundreds of miles (you have to ask)
• Seasonal refers to food plants eaten when they are ripe (and not preserved or transported from where they were grown)
• Organic (the only legally-defined, therefore the only legally enforceable of these terms) means crops grown without artificial pesticides, fertilizers, GMOs, irradiation, or sewage sludge, and animals raised without hormones or antibiotics.

For more information, check out the following resources:

• “Coming Soon to Your Grocery Aisle: Organic Food from Europe,” NPR
• “Musing about organics leads me to the Farm Bill,” Marion Nestle
• “Industry Statistics and Projected Growth,” Organic Trade Association
• “Organic Agriculture May Be Outgrowing Its Ideals,” NY Times
• “U.S. – European Union Organic Equivalence Agreement Questions and Answers,” USDA Agricultural Marketing Service

* One the main differences between the two certification systems is their rules controlling antibiotic use.  European standards allow farmers to use antibiotics to treat animal illness, while the US forbids all antibiotic use for organic livestock.  Therefore, no meat or milk from animals treated with antibiotics will be imported or sold in the US as “organic.”

I went to Vegas this weekend for the first time. I’ve never really been the “Vegas”-type, so figured a mini-reunion with two dear college friends would be the perfect excuse to get there. I had to first ask, what do people in Vegas wear? Well, it quickly became evident that the outfits of choice were “dresses” that looked more like large bandages and shoes with 6-inch heels and covered in ponyhair.

My outfit of choice tends to be yoga pants and Merrills.

Source: chilloutpoint.com, strawberryshortcakeinvitations.com

We had a wonderful time; for me, the food (duh) and the people-watching are enough to get me there (of course, if anyone wants to give me $5K to go spend more time at the blackjack table, I’m happy to oblige). You will some upcoming tidbits of my favorite eating places (thanks to the master of finding good food in Vegas, N!) over the course of the next several months. However, what Vegas really got me thinking was how to balance excess and enjoyment when it comes to food and food change.

Vegas, as many of you know, is a place where modesty and minimalism are not quite the “thing.” From the indoor gondolas at the Venetian to the giant flower balls at the Wynn to the Monet done up in flowers at the Bellagio, it’s all about grandeur and bigger-than-big.

That also goes for the food – the countless buffets and the 3-foot plastic containers of happy juice. I won’t lie, I fully enjoyed my food – some of the best food I’ve had (thank you, Jose Andres and China Poblano). Yet even amidst all that enjoyment and yes, excess, I couldn’t help but think of all the food insecurity that still exists outside of the bubble of Vegas. Just last week, Gambia announced that 70 percent of its crops failed. One in six children in the U.S. live in food-insecure households.

Given that there is no need to have a $200 piece of fish (no thank you, Bartolotta) when that $200 could pay for an entire family’s month of food in some places, I questioned: is it OK to enjoy some excess even while others suffer? In a place where balance isn’t the goal, the excess of food didn’t seem to phase most people. In the midst of stuffing myself, it occurred to me that balance is critically important.

Being aware of injustice does not necessarily mean being austere. Fighting the good fight does not necessarily mean feeling too guilty to enjoying some things. The key is to remain aware and cognizant of inequity and injustice, and to act. Whether that action is an act of kindness – spending a few hours a month volunteering for a children’s nutrition program or at a food bank – or a conversation with friends and strangers to prompt a shift in perspective, the act of acting is what is important.

I won’t lie, I enjoy my food, and sometimes, to a bit of excess. I’m not going to pretend and lie to you and say that I never overspend when I know that there are people who don’t have much. But I also am not going to pretend and lie to you and say that I don’t care and try to do my small part, whether giving time or goods or raising awareness, to fight for food equity and justice.

So I suppose it’s finding balance and being cognizant of the ugly while appreciating the beautiful.

One of my other challenges in balance is my food (of course). I love flavor and spice, and always equated flavor with meat, but I am also trying to lead a more vegan diet (I said more, not 100%). I love Indian foods, curries and masalas, but trying to do more plant-based foods. A wonderful way to find this balance is with this delicious recipe – vegan (if use vegan naan) and full of flavor and spice.

Balance. What Vegas doesn’t quite have. Yet at the same time, it is a place that forces us to remain honest and centered amidst the excess and grandeur.

Whatever the commercial says, what stays in Vegas…doesn’t always stay in Vegas.

Sweet Potato Naan
3 large sweet potatoes, peeled and cubed into 1-inch chunks
1 Serrano chile
1 onion, chopped
2 TB curry powder
1 TB cumin
1 TB ground coriander
1 TB garam masala
1 bag baby spinach
Oil
Salt to taste
Naan (home-made or store-bought)

1. Heat oil in large skillet. When hot, add onion and cook 6-8 minutes or until translucent and golden.
2. Add spices and stir for about 30 seconds. Be careful not to burn, but spices should be fragrant.
3. Add sweet potatoes and cook until tender about 18-20 minutes. Add water if necessary so potatoes don’t dry and burn. Sweet potatoes should be fork-tender.
4. Add spinach and cook until spinach wilts. Salt to taste.
5. Warm naan if it isn’t already.
6. Serve sweet potatoes over naan.

Farmwashing (noun): A marketing technique used by some industrial food producers in which idyllic images are deployed to create misleading messages about how their products are made. Source: The Food Section

The name “farm bill” seems reductionist when considering what this piece of legislation, which is currently being debated in the US Senate, determines. According to the Congressional Research Service, this omnibus bill “undergoes review and reauthorization roughly every five years…[and contains] 15 titles covering support for commodity crops, horticulture and livestock, conservation, nutrition, trade and foreign aid, agricultural research, farm credit, rural development, energy, [and] forestry…” Additionally, the Farm Bill dictates rules for school lunches and nutrition programs like food stamps. In other words, it’s central in deciding millions (if not billions) of diets – from how food is grown, to how it is prepared, where it goes, and who has access to it.

Ken Cook of the Environmental Working Group breaks down the US Farm Bill.

Our food and farming problems are systemic, as well as symptomatic of very large and complex historical, political, environmental, and economic issues. How we choose to engage in those issues is a personal choice, but I sincerely hope that we live in a society where buying a 1,200-calorie burrito is not the most effective way that citizens can influence policymakers and/or the food and farming landscape. Who knows if the Chipotle ad will encourage a large audience to question their food’s origins, or perhaps influence the sourcing standards and/or marketing strategies of the larger food industry (Monsanto and McDonald’s have already launched similar farmwashing advertising campaigns).* Even still, I suspect that if the Chipotle restaurant chain had always been wholly invested in “cultivating a better future,” they wouldn’t have started a fast food business.

To learn more about the Farm Bill, as well as how to contact your member of Congress, I recommend the following resources:
• USDA Farm Service Agency
• NY Times piece, “The Farm Bill, Beyond the Farm”
• Institute for Agriculture and Trade Policy
• Environmental Working Group
• Community Food Security Coalition

*Side note: How Chipotle seeks to change its product sourcing still remains unclear. According to their website, they intend to serve “food with integrity.” The term “integrity,” along with other words used to describe their food sourcing (e.g. “local,” “natural,” “family farmed,” and “happy”) are not legally-defined terms, and therefore cannot be legally-enforced standards. Consequently, Chipotle self-regulates using their own standards.

Like many others though, I was introduced to the ideas and debates surrounding animal ethics via the writings of Peter Singer, Michael Pollan, Jonathan Safran Foer, and James McWilliams. I found many of their arguments (combined with very convincing scientific evidence) to be credible, fascinating, and just enough to significantly reduce my meat consumption to only once or twice a week…but never entirely reverse it. I can admittedly blame it on my sincere love of roast chicken, deer jerky, carnitas, all sausages/bacon ever, boeuf bourguignon…definitely of boeuf bourguignon…

Angus cattle on my family’s farm

Ironically enough though, I’ve begun to consider vegetarianism as a personal choice since I moved to France. Explaining my decision is another article, but one of my biggest influences has been the words of one of my closest friends and recent vegetarian, Matthew Karkutt. Like myself, Matt grew up in a rural North Carolina community that has strong agricultural ties. Specifically, Matt’s home community is near the pork-producing giant, Smithfield Farms. Consequently, Matt has witnessed the reality of this type of industrial farming operation – not just for meat production, but also as an important employer within his hometown area. Moreover, Matt’s most personal experience with animals has been strongly influenced by something that many of us can relate to: being a pet owner.

My sister playing with our family’s dog, Alpie

I recently spoke with Matt about his choice to become a vegetarian, what he believes divides a “human” from an “animal,” and how, in general, the traditional Western perception of animals values protecting the lives of “house pets” on the one hand, and promotes the killing and eating “farm animals” on the other. Check it out:

Matt in Rwanda

How did you become interested in the animal world?

It’s interesting that I should mark my ‘interest’ in animals here, but I don’t think it’s an all uncommon experience, losing a friend, who happens to be a dog, or a cat, or a hamster (I had one too, her name, who was actually a he, Kimberly, after the pink power ranger— one regrets) Many people learn death from the deaths of their animals. I remember sitting on my sofa, holding my Mom’s hands, and realizing that something and someone had ended. Since then, it’s happened with other dogs, Bob, a yellow lab, who, after my last undergraduate spring break, willed my parents into medically-induced sleep, when his hips no longer allowed him to walk, or run, or be the dog we all knew.

I can’t lie when I write that the grief I still feel over Bob’s absence is deep, is cutting, and sometimes unrelenting. At a point in my story when sometimes death seemed a better option than living –this was in high school, when I started to identify as gay–a pair of warm eyes used to greet me with nonstop adoration; this, after being surrounded by those church communities that deemed me worthy of erasure, and hallway comments that persuaded me life would be better with my erasure, what friends or family could I turn to, when language was not the power I know it to be now, but my crucible? I turned to Bob, who could not speak, in the way that we think of speaking, but who could listen, who could be petted, and who was my dog, much as I was probably his human, his friend. Could he have known that he is the reason I’m still here?

I am interested in the animal world, because I am inextricably interested in the human world; I am interested in why we draw the line between animals and humans, in who is allowed to draw those lines, and who, historically, has created those lines so as to legitimate violence against animals and those humans deemed like them.

Scholars will overwhelmingly suggest that to trace histories of oppression along those lines of sexism, racism, homophobia, classism, ageism, mental and bodily illness, to name only some of many, is to also trace a history of animals, of who (and perhaps more telling, what, is bestial.)

As someone who studies literature, sexuality studies, and comparative genocide, I am overwhelmed, encouraged, in the way metaphor shapes the lived experience of liberation, violence, and rhetoric of both’s justification–if the two’s storms are in fact distinct. While we would like to distance ourselves from the worst moments in historical narratives, we cannot and can never, because our present is uncasually seeped with the past’s causes, the metaphors enacted, told, and created by past actors. Inequality, our disgusting effect, in flux with the pursuit of its end, our potential spark for change. Animals, linked to our metaphorical and literal tellings, are part of this agonistic struggle. Are we listening?

How have these beliefs influenced your lifestyle?

I am often accused of stretching this belief in metaphor to a newfound choice regarding my diet and my understanding that food is part of the tale: I do not eat animals. I do not eat animals because they are within my emotional and mnemonic foci. A bite into pig or chicken, for me, feels shamefully contradictory when I remember Bob, the yellow lab. But do my individual feelings here have a place in others’ lives? People, for instance, whose food heritages and communities base themselves on the pursuit of a perfectly crafted meat dish? People whose livelihoods and identities, sense of self-efficacy, depend on their jobs in the meat industry?

The question to eat or not to eat is not so much bound in eating meat, as it is, in bigger questions about our personal relationship to nourishment–nourishment in the biological sense, yes, but the nourishment that being with others (animals and humans) allows. Do I know where this has come from? Do I know the conditions that made its presence here on my plate, in my fast food bag, in my Trader Joe’s lunchbox, in my hand possible? I am thinking of workers’ rights, of the hands that moved this food to me; I’m thinking of ‘food movements’ that exclude on scores of socioeconomic status, whose visions don’t always embrace or confront the difficult conundrum that to eat one version of well, one must be able to afford the version (additionally, to eat one version of well, is also to destroy other versions, other narratives that are central to multiplicitous belongings).

I’m boldly imagining–with many others–that the right to nourishment is a universal one, and animals should be central to the conversation. Our decision, our policies, and our vote at the grocery store, on our plates, and on our ballots, regarding animals’ well-being, or demise, or suffering, or thriving, will carve out future humans’ well-being, demise, and potential thriving: the swine flu, at the microbial level, reminded us that our bodies cannot filter discriminately. Insomuch as metaphors have shaped the reciprocal process of interpreting and performing oneself as an eater, they are not needed to witness the openness and vulnerability each living mosaic brings to the gradient, predicating unknown chain reactions with each word and each action.

The overwhelmingly connective characteristic and quality of all life shows us that we are webbed by our openness, by our vulnerability to such openness, and by our ability to suffer. Every word, every action, and every taste that brings food closer to ourselves can inflict pain. Never a unilateral system, though, every word, action, and taste bears the possibility of inflicting pain elsewhere: to animals.

Do you believe that there is a certain characteristic of Homo sapiens that separates us from other animal species?

Perhaps empathy, perhaps logic, perhaps sentience and knowledge of oneself as a subject.

It seems, however, that those qualities would be the ones that do not separate us (per se) from animals but rather unites our bond in closer ways. Will we turn from empathy, from logic, from knowledge that animals feel pain in order to satiate our palates?

Separating human society from the larger natural environment for a moment, what role(s) do you believe that animals play in Western human society?

In a certain over-simplified Western imaginary (building on a foundation of other Cartesian divides), the animal defines what the human is; the animal defines what the human is not. A binary. An easily-discernible dichotomy. Right. Wrong. Black. White. Straight. Gay. Poor. Rich. Logical. Illogical. Reasonable. Unreasonable. Organic. Local. (I jest).

The twoness of these answers and words work into an understanding of truths in the West that, in my opinion, do not mimic reality. Animals and humans, their relationship to one another, are dauntingly more complicated.

Do you believe that humans have a responsibility to the animal world?

Absolutely.

How do you believe that humans can, or should, exercise this responsibility?

To pan in on a conversation I recently had with family members, which could have easily been a constructive seeing point we could have used to learn from one another (enter waving hands, crescendo throughout restaurant, stares from birds on and off the plate, probably fearful of my vocal pitch), the problem of eating animals is intensified by a severe lack of listening. If meat is central to a food community (if meat is, in some circumstances, survival for a community or an individual), then how do I reconcile my ethics with realities that are not my own? Certainly a process (and a painful one, when I think of what barbeque means to me and to pigs, both transplant Southerner creatures), the project should begin with difficult listening.

But there are those we cannot listen to and these voices, the ones we do not understand, are the ones I should (and we all should) be mindfully aware of.

Animals do not have voices; responsibility burdens—or ignites—those who do. We should be their stewards and their environments’ stewards; to ignore their pain is to ignore its inevitable circling back into our own. The phrase to ignore pain, though, in my mind, should automatically be a catalyst for inward searching, for a somewhat painful delve into what some animals mean to us, what some do not, and why/how we account for the difference.

Not asking these questions, not listening to others’ answers, and lastly, not acting, because of an easily willed ignorance, is the unchecked power of a fork: on one prong, the propensity to cause suffering to many, alongside its frightening twin, the one that carves away empathy, caring, and loving for others—ironically, those emotional faculties which presumably separate us from those we deem animals.

Not eating animals has begun to fulfill my search for a different instrument, one that carries the possibility of changing the lived experience of many species, of you, of me, and a too-easily forgotten interdependence between us all.

Considering these defendable consequences of the act of eating meat, I’m personally left with little argument…mainly because my once seemingly-innate reflex now seems naive. Was it ever acceptable to willfully ignore where our cows go, in addition to my grief, when they “leave the farm?” Personally, how do I now justify and act on my very complicated dietary choice? I can’t help but think about the answer every day, three times a day…”