Thinking Green, in more ways than one

Last week, Nicholas Stern, former chief economist of the world bank, unveiled The Stern Report, an extensive analysis of the "cost" of global warming. The report takes a major step in the consideration of global warming, because it casts environmental issues in a light usually far removed from the environment: economics.

Yes, the Stern Report concluded, even staunch economists need be concerned about global warming because it will prove to be detrimental to our thriving economy (among other things). David Suzuki sums up the report concisely and resonatingly here.

(Got some time to kill? Download the complete 700-page report here.)

election day blues

As I stared down at my ballot this morning, slowly filling in the bubbles, I found myself quite contemplative. Once a year we're asked to think about the future, to make our individual voices anonymously heard, to select the individuals we want shaping our lives and the rules we live by. Yet sometimes politics seems so trivial--just think of the enormous amounts of energy, dollars, and resources spent each year to fuel political rivalries, fight fierce campaign battles, and promote bureaucratic propositions to funnel funding here or redirect tax revenue there.

Undoubtedly, I care about a good number of these political fights, some more passionately than others. Yet sometimes I wish we could just send each other messages without subversive undertones, base our actions on honesty rather than strategy, and focus our efforts on putting forth messages that actually benefit the common good.

Serendipitously, after returning home from the polls I came across a message so perfect I had to smile.

This mosaic apparently graces the entrance to a G train platform at a subway stop in Brooklyn:

Slow = 10 wines, 8 courses, 4 hours, and 1 happy diner

I haven’t posted to this blog in a while—I’ve been tied up with a few other projects and have been trying to take advantage of as many long evenings as possible before the sun starts setting earlier and earlier. There has been a lot that I’ve had my eye on in the past few weeks that I do want to write about; however today my priority is once again food.

I’ve been reading Slow Food: The Case for Taste, by Carlo Petrini, the founder of the Slow Food movement in Italy, and stumbled upon a delicious passage in chapter one that I think deserves sharing; if for nothing else, the passage again reminds us of the delicate connection between food and the environment. The context of the quote is Petrini’s description of the evolution of his organization and the thoughts and objectives of its members:

“By now the overall intent and approach were well defined. The ‘arcigoloso’* was an alert consumer, filled with curiosity, who wanted to take part first hand and to learn; he or she frequented restaurants and wine cellars; shunned pseudoscientific presumptuousness and black-and-white pronouncements, respected the work of those who chose the food trades, and displayed tolerance. She participated in initiatives like the Fraternal Tables that undertake to bring aid to various parts of the world afflicted with war, famine, and poverty, because in the new millennium those who have grown, along with Arcigola Slow Food, to relish eating require two essential qualities: generosity and respect for the human environment. She is jovial and optimistic by nature and is able to communicate these qualities in daily life, and especially at meals: you can’t enjoy good food and be greedy and ungenerous at the same time. Nor can you be a gourmet and not care about the environment: people like that wind up as dupes, exalting food and cooking that are clever but phoney”

[* Arcigoloso is the name given by Petrini to members of the Arcigola Slow Food. According to Petrini, “The name Arcigola is a play on words: “Arci” comes from ARCI [Associazone Ricreative Culturale Italiana] but is also a prefix meaning “arch-,” and many founding members had a connection to the magazine La Gola (“la gola”=appetite for, enjoyment of, food; gluttony), so “Arcigola” suggests “ARCI-Gola,” and also “archappetite” or “archgluttony”]

Reading this description, I couldn’t help but instantly decide that this was exactly how each meal should be approached—with curiosity, respect, generosity, and awareness (for taste, but also for how food is prepared, where it comes from, and who you are enjoying it with). Luckily, I soon had a delightful opportunity to put this attitude to the test.

I had a dining experience last night that not only far surpassed every other experience I’ve ever had (combined) in being absolutely phenomenal, but that also embodied all of the wonderful aims of the slow food movement.

Partly in celebration of my parents visiting and partly because I have been pressured to go for some time, I made a reservation for four at Nine-Ten restaurant in La Jolla. I’ve written about my experience with wine at Nine-Ten previously, however no previous experience could compare to what I am about to describe.

The chef’s at Nine Ten produce what can only be described as elegant and ambrosic combinations of flavors, textures, and visual delights. Their menu emphasizes local produce from local farms, which changes often depending on availability of ingredients. The kitchen staff, I’ve been told, rotates taking daily trips to local farms for ingredients, such as Chino Farms in Rancho Santa Fe (who don’t have a website but their address is listed at the end of this post for San Diego-area readers), ensuring that only the freshest ingredients hit the table. What this means is that the food is not only fresh, but also mouthwateringly delicious. The chefs, inspired to tailor the menu to what is in season, are constantly working to create new dishes with more sensational tastes.

We knew the evening started out well when the Sommelier stopped by our table shortly after we had just taken our first taste from the bottle of wine we ordered, a 2002 Grenache from France. “That is absolutely one of my favorite wines,” he eagerly conveyed, “and you are very lucky as it’s the last bottle we have.” Shortly after, while we were savoring our luck and the tasty Grenache, a waiter came by with a complementary “taster” from the chef: a tidy puff pastry filled with creamy crab and potato filling. Little did we know this was only the beginning of an eight-course, four-hour event.

Next we found ourselves sitting in front of two dishes we had selected from the “First Course” menu. I managed to convince the table to try the fig and truffle salad, which consisted of marinated fresh figs from Chino Farms layered with delicately shaved truffle slices, set atop equally thin pancetta and drizzled with truffle oil. Any hesitation on the table’s part when ordering—“figs, really?”—was instantly forgotten when we all took our first bite. The combination of flavors (salty and sweet, woody and fruity) and textures (succulently soft, slightly crunchy, deliciously tender) made you want to savor each bite for as long as possible. This dish was paired with a pinot noir that seemed instantly refreshing and somehow complemented each of the distinct tastes on the dish. It was going to be hard to forget this dish as the dinner progressed.

The other dish on the table was a baby beet salad with roasted baby carrots, toasted walnuts, candied baby fennel, arugla, and champagne vinaigrette. While I again had had to do some persuading to order the beets, this time when the dish arrived, it wasn’t able to win over the anti-beet contingent at the table. Beets have a pretty strong flavor, and while the walnuts and champagne vinaigrette complemented them perfectly, they still tasted like beets. However, the table was pretty happy with the wine pairing with this dish: a sparkling chardonnay from France. Personally, I enjoyed the beets, and was also happy to learn a bit from the sommelier about what makes a champagne a champagne (grapes from the Champagne region). Of course, we were all pleased to find that even not-technically-champagne sparkling wines still were full of bubbly delight.

As we bottomed-up our champagne glasses of non-champagne, the kitchen was preparing our next round of deliciousness, again two dishes we had selected from the menu. These, the “Second Course” dishes, were what our waitress claimed were some of the “hidden gems” on the menu—smaller-sized dishes with intense flavors and combination of tastes. She was certainly right.

We first tasted the Maine scallops, which were served pan seared atop a slice of comfit roma tomato which was in turn atop a thin shaving of baby squash, all topped with piccolo basil, cherry tomato relish, and garnished with a black olive puree. I can only describe the precise deliciousness by repeating the first words emitted upon taking the first bite. “Oh my god this is the best thing I ever tasted,” a statement which could only be followed by murmurs of agreement from full mouths, as we all savored the delicate scallop and tart tomato balanced atop our tongues. This dish was accompanied by a chardonnay, which our sommelier explained was paired to combat the slightly bitterness of the tomatoes with the buttery creaminess of the wine.

The chardonnay itself was not to be ignored—we were served a 2003 Molnar Family Poseidon’s Vineyard Chardonnay, which was particularly described to us in terms of the environment in which it was created. The vineyard itself is named to pay homage to the god of earthquakes for creating the Mayacamas mountain range, which provides the terrain for these grapes. However, the wine itself is not only a product of the Napa land on which the grapes were grown; it is specifically aged in Hungarian Oak Barrels crafted in Budapest by the Molnar family and shipped to California to give the wines a distinct flavor. The flavor is further made complex by removing a small percentage of the wine from the Oak to store it in steel, providing just a hint of citrus and acidity. Who knew so many elements could play a part of one delicious wine?

We only reluctantly moved on to the next dish (after sipping the rest of the chardonnay and contemplating how many scallops we could have eaten if given the option). Yet, of course the next dish turned out to be equally as tasty as its predecessors.

Our taste buds took a dramatic turn from the light buttery flavor of the scallops to the deep, woodsy flavor of house made paperdelle pasta with wild mushrooms and veal stock, tossed with fresh herbs and the natural mushroom au jus. Our sommelier decided not to provide us with a wine for this dish, as he promised it would pair perfectly with the Grenache that was already on our table. While others noted how right the sommelier was, I kept quiet, contemplating the wonderfully complex mushroom flavors in my mouth, trying to pinpoint how exactly I would describe them. (I couldn’t). I can only attempt to convey their sweet earthiness, with the savoriness or umami that isn’t quite describable with words.

After lingering over the last tastes of the wild mushrooms as they dissolved in my mouth, we took a moment to revel in how amazing the meal had been so far. Thinking back on the five dishes we had been served, I realized the sweet figs, delicate scallops, and savory mushroom pasta had been far and away the most amazing and intense flavors I had ever tasted. I smiled at this, and realized it was exactly how a meal should be—the discovery of absolutely mind-blowing tastes, the delight of novel combinations of foods, and the unhurried pace of a multi-course meal where nothing seems more important than the present.

Once we had been left to contemplate our experience so far, our waiters returned bearing more dishes, and set beside us another duo of artistically adorned plates. The first consisted of a line drawn across the plate dotted with tiny agnolotti—small crescent-shaped pastas filled with a creamy cheese and chives. Each agnolotti sat atop a sliver of bell pepper or a baby artichoke heart, and was accompanied by an absolutely astounding parmesan foam. The dish, we soon discovered, was created by the chef mere nights before, when a fury of creative genius kept him in the kitchen until one a.m., until he was able to satisfy himself with an approximation of perfection. Due to this, our sommelier did not have a wine to provide, as he felt he hadn’t yet had the chance to evaluate the complexities of the dish in light to find its ideal partner. (A process which I decided would be a phenomenal challenge to undertake).

Beside the agnolotti dish was a bowl of Truffle Risotto with truffle oil, with scattered slivered truffles delicately balancing on top of the creamy starch. The risotto was perfect—a harmonious combination of silky sauce wrapped around firm granules of rice to produce a texture and consistency I had never fully experienced. This was risotto perfected. Our attention, however, was briefly drawn away from the risotto itself to concentrate on the slivers of truffles adorning the plate, as it seemed we might not have the opportunity to eat truffles again for decades. The crisp slivers melted as they touched your tongue, providing a hint of woodiness along with a shiver of delight.

We took our time savoring these two dishes, with the disappointing awareness that we were beginning to feel the faintest hint of fullness. However, we were not to be deterred, for our entrées were about to arrive.

Before our plates were delivered to the table, we were delighted to receive a surprise visit from the sommelier. Noting that our main entrées ranged from delicate halibut to domineering steak, he approached our table with four different wine bottles in hand. Proceeding to pour each of us a different glass of wine, we found our experience had now become the best of both worlds: we had obtained the camaraderie of sharing a bottle, but need not compromise by drinking a wine that did not pair perfectly with our entrée. Even my father, who expected the heavy-ish Grenache to pair perfectly with his New York steak, was provided a heavy cabernet that performed even better.

My Hudson Valley duck breast arrived atop grilled escarole and lavishly draped with almond foam. To its side a row of baby turnips and Thumbelina carrots swam in a stream of deep purple bing cherry & basil puree. I was poured a 2002 Oregon pinot noir, which as promised, served as a light accompaniment to the dark breast meat. The surprise part of my meal, however, was the delicate turnips, which seemed to have a hint of vanilla and provided a refreshing palate cleanser between bites (this, I discovered, was particularly helpful when demanding a forkful of everyone else's meal).

Across from me, a generous portion of roasted northern halibut, draped with Chino corn, and chanterelle mushrooms was served to my mother. The plate was shared with Yukon gold potatoes, and a sweeping pour of turmeric corn puree rimmed with balsamic glaze. This was paired with 2005 sauvignon blanc from France; 2005, we were told, being an exceptional year for sauvignon blancs in France, producing wines of a caliber not seen in the region since the 1960’s.

Next might have been my favorite looking plate of the night, with a massive New York steak of corn and grass-fed beef draped with a mixture of pickled corn and onions, towering over the most delicate looking fingerling potatoes, which were lined up in a row like tiny soldiers marching across the plate. Atop what appeared to be the lead soldier was perched the most petite vegetable I have seen—an infant potato no larger than a pinky fingernail. It was one of those presentations you feel guilty for touching, and there was something about the dichotomy of giant and midget on the same plate made you want to smile. So did the description of the cabernet (80%) merlot (20%) blend that was paired with this dish, which was described as being both “fatty” and “chewy,” which perfectly mirrored the qualities of the beef.

Finally, next to me was the second steak dish on the menu, two thick slices of a Prime Flat-iron set atop caramelized torpedo onions and a cipollini onion puree with confit garlic. This shared the plate with haricot vert (green beans), red wine sauce, and a potato accompaniment that was as far opposite from the previous dish as the definition of potato could stretch: a single, enormous cut of a perfectly crisp Yukon potato. Once again, the creative dichotomy made me smile. This steak was also paired with a cabernet, from a vineyard in an area of Napa that I believe the sommelier claimed was soon to have it’s own appellation (actually American Viticultural Area, or AVA) defined.

This, I again pause over, as the concept of “appellation” links what we consume to its origins. The word (originating from the French) implies that different regions produce different grapes (or cheeses, or other food products) due to the different conditions of the soil, climate, and elevation. The idea stems back to the 15th century, and has over the course of time been used to link the quality of the grapes to the conditions of the land. In the US, new AVA’s are defined when it can be proven that within the boundaries of a certain area, there exists a unique set of conditions that yield a particular grape. Serious wine lovers (of which I don’t yet claim to be) use appellations as one of the major criteria when purchasing wine, as often it is known that the particular characteristics of an area will yield a great grape.

But back to our delicious food. Most of the time, you feel your meal is complete after you put as much of a dent as you can into your entrée. Tonight, however, this was not the case. After expressing to each other how perfectly we felt our wines accompanied our dishes, and after relishing not only the array of textures and flavors on our own dishes but sneaking tastes of everyone else’s, we set our forks and knives down, although not for good.

Soon two more dishes appeared from the kitchen, this time far more petite than the previous course, offering us just a taste of some of the potent flavors we had missed from the menu. This, I discovered, was a brilliant move, allowing us to experience two additional intense bursts of flavor in just a few additional bites.

We first sunk our forks into a port wine braised short rib that pulled apart on contact, set atop more wild mushrooms, and surrounded by white truffle emulsion and herb oil, topped with deliciously brilliant potato foam. If the short ribs pulled apart on contact, it was only to have the bite dissolve in your mouth upon entering, literally causing you to sit back and shut your eyes for a moment of contemplation before swallowing. The potato foam challenged the delightful parmesan foam that was served earlier in the evening, pulling a close second in terms of the delight of tasting flavor removed from it's expected consistency.

The second dish caused a similar reaction, with tender smoked and braised pork belly presented next to polenta made from heirloom corn (from Anson Mills), topped with , black eyed peas, and slivers of okra. Anson Mills, I just have to note, is a small company dedicated to “the preservation of Southern heirloom corn, rice and wheat—and the artisan milling practices associated with them.” Heirloom varieties are heralded by the slow food movement, becoming increasingly important as farms merge with corporations, and varieties of crops are being bred for resistance, shelf life, and profit margins. Any kitchen that goes out of its way to incorporate heirloom varieties on its menu certainly gains my support.

After finishing these two delectable bonuses, we received a much-anticipated visit from sous-chef Chris Bleidorn. Grinning as he sat down next to us, he need only read our faces to find how we liked our food. Of course, he wasn’t done serving us either. With a bit of hesitation, we agreed to take a look at the dessert menu, and with no hesitation, decided we needed not one, but two desserts (after all, we had tasted at least two options of every other course, why should we stop now?). However, before desert was delivered, our waitress came over with a cheese course, which, Chris managed to slide in. With two tasty cheeses accompanied by candied walnuts and homemade herb crackers. we now felt like kings, (perhaps Bacchus?). Finally, when we felt we might not be able to eat another bite, our dessert was delivered, and our eyes lit up at the elegant cheesecake topped with champagne grapes and the not-often-seen beignets served with lemon gelato, candied lemons and candied mint. Speaking of Bacchus, I distinctly noted that the Grenache, which had managed to linger in our glasses, having been ignored throughout the other courses, seemed to now take on a hint of the qualities of port—strong and slightly sweet, the perfect, albeit unintentional, accompaniment to our final bites of this absolutely unrivaled meal.


Chris, I honestly don’t know what to say, not only in terms of our gratitude for this experience, but also in terms of your talent, creativity, and, in terms of that fig salad, genius. Don’t be surprised that we're already looking for the next opportunity to swing by…

For those in the San Diego area, Chino Farms is open to the public and can be found at:

Chino Farms Vegetable Stand
6123 Calzada del Bosque
Rancho Santa Fe (off Via de la Valle, S6), CA

The hours I was able to find were as follows, although without having yet made a visit there myself, I can't confirm them:
Fall/Winter: Tuesday-Saturday 10-4; Sunday 10-1
Spring/Summer: Tuesday-Saturday 10-5.

One last note: I'm pretty sure I'm missing a few details here and there, especially in terms of wines, which I hope to fill in with the help from my table-mates. Until then, I apologize for any slight inaccuracies, but I wanted to share this experience as quickly as I could.

What's this all about anyway?

In case anyone happens to wander over here from muzzle of bees (where I snuck in a guest blog post), I thought I’d whip up a quick note as an introduction to this blog.

When I was a kid, I remember learning about all sorts of environmental issues in school. I did a project on solar power, and another one on why we shouldn’t litter. I think it’s safe to say that we all grew up being taught about the environment and why polluting it was bad. But fast forward 20 years (give or take), and how many of us are actually still thinking about those issues? I, for one, was not, and I know a good number of my friends weren’t either. Sure, I wouldn’t toss trash from my car, wouldn’t litter on camping trips, or leave anything behind when packing up from a day on the beach; I wouldn’t intentionally harm the environment but certainly wasn’t doing anything proactive for it either.

And then I thought about it one day and wondered, would it really be that painful to start actually caring? So I decided to give it a stab, and decided to write about what I was doing along the way, and you know what? It isn’t that hard at all.

So if you’re just arriving here, here are a few quick and painless ways I’ve found to get started:

1. Reuse your grocery bags. I found some cloth bags I’m a fan of but even reusing the plastic bags you have laying around your house is a start.
2. Switch out some of your lightbulbs to Compact Florescent Bulbs and save some energy.
3. Try staying away from traditional cleaning products and instead use non-toxic baking soda and vinegar to get the job done.
4. Try eating local at least once a week, and help cut down on the fuel used to transport food.
5. Go see an Inconvenient Truth (it will scare you into doing at least one of the above)

My hope is that anyone who reads this blog might just be up for giving one (or more) of these a try. If you're just arriving and need more justification, I hope you'll explore some past posts, which try to give a few good arguments in favor of saving this planet of ours. And I promise--I'm not asking anyone to turn into a treehugger or a vegan (not that there's anything wrong with that). I've just come to realize that a little bit of thought here, a tiny bit of effort there is something many of us can afford. And take it from someone who just started caring--once you start picking up on these habits they don't seem out of the ordinary at all.

Slow Food Sunday

I can safely say that there have been times when I have literally cringed at the thought of having to order from a fast food restaurant. Now, it's not that I haven't dined at each of these fine chain establishments over the course of my lifetime, and it's not that I find myself "above" them at all, I just truly dislike the experience (not to mention the taste). There is something about the plastic sterile atmosphere, the grease seeping through the paper bag as you steal fries out of it on the drive home, and formulaic way the food is prepared that just doesn't appeal to me. This extends to the "made to order" fast food chains as well, not just the chains with cute cartoony mascots and heat lamps on 18 hours of the day. I actively avoid Subway, won't set foot inside of FatBurger, and can count on one hand the times I've sat at an In N' Out drive thru.

This of course, can be a point of contention in our apartment. I live with someone who 1. has purchased every item on the Wendy's $1 menu at once and attempted to eat it all in one sitting, 2. has performed the McDonalds' menu song live on stage and continues to know it by heart, and 3. i'm pretty sure still carries Subway club stamps around in his wallet (the program ended years ago). So from time to time this means that we end up in situations like last week, where one of us ran out to Chipotle for a take-out burrito while the other ran to the store to get ingredients to make homemade vegetable soup.

Luckily, despite these few instances where our taste buds butt heads, I think I've slowly been able to triumph over the fast food giants by proving that "anything they can do I can do better." This of course might seem like a ridiculous challenge to some, but I see it as a win-win situation: you don't have to eat carelessly slapped together hamburgers whose origins are so questionable you don't even ask; and you get to eat deliciously tasty stuff. I've made buffalo wings from scratch for the superbowl, deep fried homemade falafel just to see if I could do it, slow cooked a pork butt for highly-touted pulled pork sandwiches, grilled a whole chicken over a beer can (because why not?), made imitation Gus Burgers with veggie patties (a Charlottesville institution, which consists of a cheeseburger topped with a fried egg, featured in the annual Gus Burger eating contest) and whipped up countless dips, munchies and hors d'ouvres. I'd like to claim I am winning without contention.

So, liking to think that I am fearless in the kitchen and having a partner who is willing to try anything I concoct (to a point--Zucchini and Heirloom Tomatoes apparently are crossing the line), I decided to initiate the "Slow Food Sunday." What, you may ask, is a Slow Food Sunday? It's simple-you spend a Sunday afternoon preparing a meal entirely from scratch, using minimally-processed ingredients and local and seasonal food when possible, spend your time cooking consciously, aware of where your food was grown and how it is being prepared, and sit down with some friends (and maybe a good bottle of wine) for a quality meal. The term "Slow Food" comes from the slow food movement, which was started in Italy by Carlo Petrini in 1980's in protest to a McDonalds opening up. The principles of the slow food movement are those that I wholeheartedly embrace, and which without even realizing it, I have been supporting all along with my aversion to fast food.


The Slow Food concept "opposes the standardization of taste [ahem, fast food chains], defends the need for consumer information [knowing where your food comes from], protects cultural identities tied to food and gastronomic traditions [e.g. the importance of the family meal], safeguards foods and cultivation and processing techniques inherited from tradition [which does not include deep-frying large batches of potatoes] and defend domestic and wild animal and vegetable species [those delicious heirloom tomatoes, for example]." In essence the slow food movement encourages us to take the time to think about our food, where it came from, what it's value is, how it was traditionally used throughout history, and to savor its delectable taste.

So how is the Slow Food movement related to the environment? Quite simply actually, because if you reduce food to the most basic level, our vegetables, fruits, and grains are all grown from the earth, and the meats we eat all come from animals who feed off these grains. That we need to grow or raise (or I guess hunt) what we want to eat is a fact, yet often a conveniently forgotten one. Food, over the past century, has become slowly detached from the environment in which its grown, to the extent that we routinely come home from the grocery store with bags of chips, loaves of bread, or boxes of cereal containing grains that, despite the fact that we are going to easily devour these foods, we have no idea where they were grown or perhaps more importantly, how. While some of us might prefer the simplicity of picking up a convenient snack and not caring about its origins, the truth of the matter is, without adequate growing conditions, there would be no food for us to eat. It benefits us all to realize that if the planet's environment starts to degrade, the quality (and safety) of our food will begin to degrade as well.

The Slow Food Movement, according to its mission, "links pleasure and food with awareness and responsibility." It seeks to connect eating and tasting with the food itself-its history, it's cultures and traditions, the environment that it was grown in, the path that it took to arrive on your plate. When you think of food in terms of all of these elements, not all foods are equal. Some foods are grown more humanely than others, some are grown with a lighter footprint on the environment or with less pesticides, and some are bred for superior taste, texture, or color. What the slow food movement strives to point out is that those foods that are grown by local farmers on smaller farms not only have a reduced impact on the environment, they taste better too.

Just as with any other product you buy, as a consumer you have choices. When it comes to food, we shouldn't ignore the toll on the environment that the production of food takes. Food grown in a local garden takes only the nutrients of the soil, a water supply, and the sun's rays to be grown, ripen, and be eaten. Food that travels farther than garden to mouth needs an increasing amount of resources the farther it has to travel. Add in processing, packaging, and international transport and those resources start to add up. Some great statistics in support of eating local food can be found here. The slow food website reminds us that:

"Possibly, many are unaware of the concept of incorporated energy or, in other words, the baggage of 'hidden' energy that each and every product brings with it, derived from the use of fossil fuels required for its production, transportation, preservation, packaging and waste disposal."

By choosing foods that are local, organically grown, and minimally processed,
proponents of the slow food movement are naturally part of the environmental movement
as well.

So with this in mind, I propose to you the concept of the Slow Food Sunday. Spend just one day a week actually thinking about your food, where it came from, and how amazingly delicious it tastes when you prepare it yourself. This past Sunday was my first Slow Food Sunday, and I'd like to say it went off without a hitch. It did take a day of advance planning, as my local farmer's market comes through on Saturday mornings and I had to be sure to buy all I needed (although I admit there were a few purchases at a local grocery for some last minute ingredients).



After some consideration and some perusing at the market, here's what I came up with for a menu:

Homemade Rustic White Bread with Roasted Garlic
Heirloom Tomato and Grilled Corn salsa
Slow Cooked Tuscan-Style Pinto Beans with Sage
Sauteed Baby Zucchini
Baked Carrots and Baby Onions
Lemon Roasted Free-Range Chicken

A little hint of decadence, a little more time required than usual, but all in all an exercise in consciousness I wholeheartedly recommend, that in the end is an absolute delight to the senses.

Want to get started?
Sustainable Table has great resources to find out what foods are available locally in your area. So does the eat well guide, and FoodRoutes.org has a pretty comprehensive listing of local farms, farmer's markets, and farm stands throughout the US. So what are you waiting for? Next Sunday is only 3 days away!

Rockstars of the [last] week

Last week, thanks to SubPop Records, I decided to declare a whole group of bands as the Rockstars of the Week (I just didn't get around to writing about it until now). My favorites among this group include Band of Horses, Iron & Wine, Jesus and Mary Chain, Mark Lanegan, the Postal Service, The Shins, Stars, and Wolf Parade, but the full list of SupPop eco-heroes can be found here.

"Green" SubPop artists (clockwise from top left): The Shins, Iron & Wine, Band of Horses, Mark Lanegan, Wolf Parade, Postal Service

The reason for this recognition? As of last Monday, SubPop announced that it was “going green.” Specifically, the company has decided to offset 100% its energy use through the Green Tags program offered by the Bonneville Environmental Foundation. Through this program, consumers purchase green credits to offset their non-renewable energy usage, and the green credits in turn support renewable energy sources elsewhere in the country. The idea behind the program, and similar programs, is that you can support renewable energy even if it specifically is not available in your location.

I do have to note here, that ever since I heard about the idea of carbon offsetting, I’ve been admittedly skeptical as to the extent it actually helps the environment. I mean, it doesn’t actually reduce anyone’s energy usage, it just allows them to feel good about their energy consumption by spending money on environmentally friendly efforts. I’d compare it to a crotchety Mr. Burns-type character hurriedly dashing off a check to some bothersome visitor just to be able to say “there, see, I’m supporting your cause, now leave me alone to my opulent and lavish ways.” Buying your way out of a situation has never seemed like a legitimate option to me, if by spending money you find an excuse not to have to change your low-down ways.

However, not wanting to pass judgment without completely understanding the situation, I decided to do a bit of research and actually discover what the benefits of this complicated financial and ecological transaction actually are. The company that SubPop has chosen to buy “Green Tags” from is Bonneville Environmental Foundation, so I went to their website first to investigate, as well as to the website of Green-e, which is a certification bureau that monitors programs that sell green certificates.

The idea behind green certificates is not exactly straightforward and not the easiest to explain. For a legitimate explanation, I suggest going here. For a layman’s definition, keep reading, and I’ll do my best. I’ve actually found two explanations; the first is pretty straightforward and the second leans slightly towards favoring the program, I think. The straightforward explanation is that a green tag represents the difference in cost between producing renewable energy and the market value for energy. Because the government partially subsidizes traditional energy sources, and does not subsidize renewable energy, the cost of producing renewable energy exceeds that of non-renewable. The green tag represents the difference, and when traded, makes up the lack of funds to allow renewable energy to be created and sold at the market price (as my handy graph above illustrates). Thus the idea is the more green tags bought, the more renewable energy subsidized, and the more that can be created.

The slightly, well, polished explanation I found came from within the renewable energy industry, and claimed that renewable energy can be divided into two parts, the physical wattage and the benefits associated with it. The wattage is the part that actually creates energy, while the benefits include reduced carbon emissions and non-dependence on renewable resources. It’s as if you separated the physical value of a Christmas preset and the emotional value of receiving the present. According to the Bonneville Environmental Foundation, “Green Tags represent the environmental benefits that occur when clean, new renewable energy is substituted for power that is produced by burning fossil fuel.” By viewing it this way, and separating renewable energy into two valuable parts, you can treat them as distinct (albeit related) entities, allowing the energy part to create energy in one part of the country while selling the benefits part to someone elsewhere.

The difference in these two explanations is not that much, except that one is strictly economic while the other tries to make you feel better about paying money for something you can’t physically see. What both boil down to is that green tags are bought and sold to support renewable energy. This is a highly regulated practice, where one green tag is issued for every 1000kWh of electricity produced (that’s kilowatt hour, the standard energy measurement, which you can look up if you want an explanation). Green-e is one such regulatory agency that monitors the number of green tags per electricity, to ensure that the ratio is strictly at 1:1,000, or that there is not more than one green tag sold for every 1,000kWh.

The idea behind the Green-e program is that there are many locations where homes and businesses don’t have the option of renewable energy, because their local energy company doesn’t offer it. In these locations (or any location) consumers who would otherwise opt for renewable energy sources can choose to buy “Tradable Renewable Certificates” (TRC’s) as a way of “offsetting” their nonrenewable energy use. Offsetting essentially means that you purchase enough green certificates to balance out the amount of fossil fuels you personally use. This extends to as many applications as there are ways to use energy, from your monthly electricity bill to your daily commute to your annual family vacation where everyone climbs aboard a gas guzzling jet (which, I just learned, use about 5 gallons of fuel for every mile!). In SubPop’s case, they have chosen to offset all of the energy involved in the company’s operations.

The clutch detail that both shocked me and probably converted me into a supporter of green tags is discovering the statistic that (according to Green-e) only 2% of the electricity generated in the US comes from renewable resources. TWO Percent!!! Here we are lamenting the price of gas, worrying about the depletion of the earth’s resources, and we have only progressed far enough since inventing photovoltaic cells to allow 2% of our energy to come from solar, wind and other renewable sources? That statistic alone makes me want to support green certificate programs, as they provide hope that with more financial support the prevalence of renewable energy will spread.

So should you by green tags? That depends on how much you can afford to. In terms of ease and convenience, it couldn’t get any easier. In the words of Sub Pop president Jonethan Poneman:

“I was, quite frankly, shocked by how easy it is to support renewable energy. Green Tags are a simple way for anyone to choose wind energy, which, in turn, lowers dependence on burning fossils fuels for energy.”

However, I still adamantly maintain that being able to say you support a cause isn’t exactly the same as making lifestyle changes to support it. So I think if you’re going to buy energy certificates you also have to make a considerable effort to reduce your energy consumption as well. I actually think that a great way to make this work would be to model the structure of some of the international environmental treaties, which add another dimension to the practice of purchasing green credits. In many of these programs, including those set forth by the Kyoto protocols, developed nations are all allotted a specific allowance of emissions credit, which allow them to pollute only a specified amount. If the nation goes over this amount, they have to purchase “credits” from underdeveloped countries who are not polluting nearly as much, or who are practicing exemplary sustainable practices. The idea is to reduce overall emissions world wide. Applied on an individual scale, each household or business would get allotted a specific amount of watts each month to consume, based on the number of people in their household, their geographic location, and other factors. Households that went over this amount would be required to purchase green credits to offset their usage. With this system, the development of renewable energy resources would not only be supported, the overall reduction of our dependence on non-renewable energy sources would be reduced.

Unfortunately, as we live in a country that has not entirely approved of using this model on a larger scale (the US is one of the few countries not to have ratified the Kyoto protocol), I can’t see this ever being adopted. However, this doesn’t mean that you and I can’t adopt this personally. Want to give it a shot? Pick a number on your electricity bill, and try to reduce or meet it each month. If you reduce it, good for you. If you go over, buy the equivalent in energy credits that month to offset your use. Hey, it might not be something the entire country would adopt, but it’s a start.

Shine on You Crazy Bathtub

I can’t believe I’m even writing about this, but it’s an extremely easy way to reduce your impact on the environment. So today’s post is about…cleaning the bathroom. Excited? I’m not. I particularly hate cleaning my bathroom, and have this aversion to brining out the sprays, the mildew remover, the soap scum scrubber, and the toilet bowl cleaner and spending time cleaning the one room in my house where I spend the most time getting clean. But as much as I am not a fan of the chore, there is someone else out there who dislikes it even more—Mother Earth. Because long after our sinks, tubs, and tile emerge sparkling clean, all those cleaning agents swim down the drain, out to septic tanks, and slowly leak into the environment.

However, there’s an unbelievably simple way to avoid the bathroom guilt trip that won’t cost you an arm and a leg (as certain environmentally-friendly cleaning products will). It comes in a small orange box, has just one ingredient, and isn’t found in the cleaning aisle of your grocery store. This wonder agent? Baking Soda.

Baking Soda is the household name for sodium bicarbonate, a naturally occurring mineral that is safe to eat and non abrasive on the skin (arm and hammer actually touts baking soda’s beneficial effects), and ENVIRONMENTALLY SAFE (whohoo!). Commonly found in the baking aisle, baking soda is commonly used to help dough rise. However its uses are seemingly endless (there is an entire book devoted to what you can do with baking soda), and include cleaning tile, tubs, and floors.

I decided to test this wonder powder for myself, putting it to work on a bathroom that hadn’t been cleaned in all of July, even after July 4 weekend when at least 10 people passed through our apartment, a good number of them showering or shaving once or twice. I set to work on my tub first, mixing about a ½ cup of baking soda with enough water to form a pasty consistency (which is not a lot of water). A few “wax on, wax off” cycles of the sponge, and I was shocked to see the gray soap scum seemingly disappear. Soon the chrome was sparkling, the mildew between the tiles gone, and the tub whiter than it’s been in a while.

Need a little more excitement? I recommend this handy and frothy alternative to drano:

Pour a cup of baking soda down the bathroom sink; chase with a cup of white vinegar. Watch with excitement as the concoction foams up around the drain (ok, maybe not that exciting, but does your drano do that?). Let it sit for ten minutes then flush it away with warm water.

So, in the interest of brevity (who wants to keep writing, or reading, about cleaning the bathroom?), I’ll leave it at this: Next time you are in the supermarket, pick up an orange box and keep it under the sink, so that next time you feel compelled to clean your bathroom you can leave those bottles and sprays alone. Or even better, check your fridge--baking soda's deodorizing power only lasts for about three months after a box is opened, but can still be used to scrub that tub long after this.

For the lazy who have skimmed to the bottom of this post, here’s why baking soda is worth a try in a nutshell:

1. It’s no less effort than using any other household cleaner, and has the added bonus of not leaving your hands smelling like chemicals when your done.
2. You save both time and money by not having to purchase 10 different kinds of products to clean your bathroom, or even spend time in the cleaning aisle of the grocery wondering which one to buy).
3. You will have the guilt free knowledge that you just saved gallons of chemicals from entering our soil, streams, and air.
4. You have the added bonus of knowing you are avoiding packaging waste—arm and hammer baking soda is boxed in recycled cardboard.

So there you go. And hopefully this is the most mundane topic I ever post on, because I can't imagine topping this!

8/2/06-update: You don't have to limit yourself to baking soda either--I just stumbled upon this handy resource with all sorts of household concoctions.

Bright Idea? You be the judge on this one.

Ok, I have to admit that when I set out to write this blog post, I was a bit more optimistic than I am now. I am still pretty excited, but I'm not yet 100% convinced that the change I am about to recommend is one of 100% convenience. It's pretty damn close though, so hear me out...


Compact Florescent Light Bulbs--what's the hype about and is it worth making the switch?

A few years ago, swayed by the “long life” sign that hung above a bin of these spiral bulbs at ikea, I tried buying a compact fluorescent bulb, just to see whether they were really any different. The one I bought definitely was—quite frankly, it sucked. It gave off very little light compared to other bulbs and I would compare it to one of those three-level lamps where you just constantly felt like it needed to be turned up a notch. I pretty much got ridiculed for buying it the moment I screwed it into a lame. And despite the fact that that light bulb is somehow still hanging above our coffee table (ok, it’s not the only light in the room and it's in this awkward hanging lamp precariously balanced on a not-so-stable hook in the ceiling, so there’s a bit of a risk involved that if the lamp comes down to replace the bulb, it’s not going back up again) I admit that my bulb purchase might not have been the brightest (sorry) decision. After this purchase I quickly abandoned and forgot about the idea of compact bulbs.

That is, until last weekend, when I decided to take another stab. After reading about Compact Florescent Lightbulbs (CFL’s for short) on environmental website after website, and then hearing that even Oprah (along with of all people Leonardo DiCaprio) was espousing the benefits of CFL’s (I learned this when some guy at the grocery store in front of me was buying a CFL and explaining to the cashier that he saw them on Oprah), I decided I wasn’t going to let my first experience deter me from trying again. So I shelled out 8 bucks at the local drug store, ignored the raised eyebrow that was staring at me when I carried the bulb home, and screwed it into the lamp next to the TV.

The result? The light was slightly dimmer at first, which I am chalking up to the fact that previously there was a 100 watt bulb and the CFL was the equivalent of a 60w. But other than that, I honestly couldn’t tell. And what’s better, no one else in my apartment could tell either. My condition in testing out the bulb (which still stands) is that if the bulbs fail to live up to their predecessors, I will gladly switch it out and return to conventional bulbs (at least until I find another CFL that works better). So far it’s been a week and the bulb is still standing.

This is where my initial optimism starts to wane slightly, as I recently went out and bought two additional CFL's, excited with the prospect of saving all this valuable energy. Screwing the bulbs into our outdoor patio light and then into the kitchen, I was in for a bit of disappointment. The outdoor light works great, as far as I'm concerned, but in the kitchen, it's a different story. I spent 30 minutes that evening sturring a pan full of turkey chili on the stove that looked yellower and yellower by the minute. I had to squint to see if it was done every ten seconds, and never really could tell. I'm going to have to say that I nix the CFL in the kitchen.

So I've come to the conclusion that perhaps the key to switching to CFL’s might be to strategically place them in certain lighting situations. Lamps that give off ambient light or lamps that are secondary light sources seem to work fine making the switch, however I'm not yet convinced that they're ideal for lights that serve as a primary light source--next to your bed for reading, in your office, or in the kitchen. I'm not ready to give up and will keep trying different brands and wattages before I come to an ultimate conclusion, but for now, I can't honestly say that these bulbs are ALWAYS ideal.

That said, I'm still going to devote the rest of this post to persuading you to try out CFL's for yourself. Perhaps you find a better brand than me, or perhaps you have 10 lamps in your house that don't really need that strong of a light in them, and in either case, I'll encourage you to at least try switching out one bulb and to judge for yourself whether you can tell the difference. I bought the one kind of bulb at my local hardware store, but there are plenty of options--check this handy resource for info on how to pick the right bulb for you.

The reason I’m so determined to find CFL’s that work and that seem like genuine options for lighting your home is because they make so much sense. Energy, at least in terms of global warming, seems to be an enemy these days. Every watt of electricity used by each of us translates into a certain amount of non-renewable resources usurped, a certain amount of carbon leaked into the atmosphere, and a minute fraction of a percent of the hard-to-reverse increase in our planet’s temperature. We are urged from every environmental group to conserve our electricity use, to use only what we NEED and not what we conveniently forget (or decide not) to turn off.

The facts about CFLs:
Switching to CFL’s uses one third to one fourth of the energy that regular, incandescent, bulbs require. According to environmentaldefense.org, this saves more than 1,000 pounds of carbon emissions over the life of the bulb. According to the carbon calculator at stopglobalwarming.org, this saves 100 pounds of carbon emissions (or $20) per bulb per year.

So that’s pretty much the argument for switching to CFL's. They use less energy—a lot less—which means that they help conserve resources, and contribute less to global warming.


Now for the convenience factor. I’ve pretty much come to the conclusion that there is no reason you shouldn’t make the switch to CFL’s. Here’s my rationale for the lazy, the stubborn, or the otherwise unconvincible:


Effort-wise, buying a CFL bulb is EASIER than shelling out $4 at Starbucks on your way to work every day and EQUAL to picking up a six pack of beer or a bottle of wine on a Friday afternoon.

CFL’s are not cheap—I spent $8 on mine—so I certainly don’t recommend rushing out to the hardware store and buying a replacement bulb for every lamp in your house. However, what I do recommend is once you decide to make the switch, to buy one bulb a week and gradually convert the lights in your home. $8 a week will buy you a lot—the aforementioned starbucks or booze, but also dinner at your favorite carryout place down the street, a slurpee a day from 711, or your taxi fare on the way home when you are feeling too lazy to walk. Hopefully your weekly budget can stand slipping in a lightbulb every Wednesday, and if it can’t, maybe consider skipping the starbucks while you accumulate 3 or 4 bulbs.


Once you buy a CFL you will have to change your lightbulbs LESS than usual.
The CFL I bought came with a guarantee that the bulb would last 5 years or I could return it for a refund. Not that I’m planning on keeping my receipt for the life of the bulb or anything, but it’s a reassuring claim. So if you are really lazy, or just hate climbing up on a ladder to replace those hard to reach ceiling lamps, these are the thing for you.


In the not-so long term, CFL’s will save you money, or at least not lose you any.
Once you buy your CFL, it’s like an investment. Since the bulbs use ¼ of the energy of a regular bulb, your energy bill should slowly start to cost you less and less the more bulbs you buy. Of course, according to wikipedia, it takes about 500 hours of use for a CFL to pay for itself, which, if you leave your lights on 24-7 is about 3 weeks, or with a more normal use pattern of 4 hours a day, is 3 months. Not an instant money saving scheme, but not to shabby either. Start by swapping out the conventional bulbs in your most-used lamps to see the greatest difference.


Need more motivation?
EnvironmentalDefense.org has started a CFL campaign, which by signing up shows you not only your own personal efforts but those of everyone else as well.


Sound like a good idea but think the bulbs are too expensive?
Here’s a sale for you.


Like the idea and want to take it a step further?
banthebulb.org is a pretty intense site taking CFL’s to the extreme. Lots of statistics if you are interested.

So that's it--buy a bulb, try it out, and judge for yourself whether you can sacrifice a little wattage for the greater good of the world. And please let me know if you find bulbs that you are happy with!

Rockstars of the Week

Close friends and family know that I'm a huge fan of rock n roll (and not so close friends usually figure this out pretty quickly). Good music is as essential to me as good friends and good food. There's something about the rhythm, the passion, and the intensity of a rockin' song that captivates your entire body, brings a smile to your face and sends chills up your spine (occasionally, just occasionally, a song will even bring a tear or two to my eye). My favorite way of describing this is to quote David Bowie's bold line from Sweet Head" "Before there was Rock you only had God." I'm in love and I love it.

But as much as I love their music, I'm certainly not always a fan of rockstars themselves. There's a good number of amazingly talented musicians out there who just come up short in the persona department. Pete Doherty, singer for the Libertines and Babyshambles immediately comes to mind as a stellar musician who has just blown it in all other aspects of life.

Anton Newcombe of the Brian Jonestown Massacre, while lesser known, definitely lands a #2 spot on that list. (For and up close and personal glimpse into his unstable (and ridiculous) personality, I recommend the documentary Dig! The “rockstar personality” is stereotypically destructive, and there are many who fit the bill. From the very beginnings of rock and roll, substance abuse (Elvis, Jimi Hendrix, Scott Weiland, and countless others), violence (most recently/humorously, Axl Rose), and the occasional troubled soul (Kurt Cobain) have been as integral a part of rock and roll as the music itself.

But every now and then, you get a rock star who defies this stereotype, who realizes the world does not revolve around them, and who actually decides to do something good for that world. When this happens—and it seems to be happening more and more, especially, it seems, for rockers in the later stages of their careers—it deserves recognition. Because when you are famous for your music, you certainly have no responsibilities when it comes to how you wield your influence (certainly, a reckless persona almost seems as a necessity if you are to be a credible rock musician). Yet when a person or group has so much influence that their behavior and decisions are recognized and often revered by thousands of impressionable fans (think punk rock), it's always a plus (albeit sometimes a surprise) when their decisions will do some good in the world.

Some well-known conscious musicians have been able to do a lot with their influence. Live Aid and Live 8 sprang from this realization that musicians have an enormous amount of influence. Farm Aid was the same idea on a bit of a smaller scale. Many musicians have begun to use their music as a means of speaking their minds, and lately, everyone from Paul Simon to Bright Eyes has had a passionate, often political, statement to be made through song. My favorite, which when performed live was admittedly tear-inducing, is Bruce Springsteen’s adaptation of a Blind Alfred Reed song on his recent Seeger Sessions tour, where he both blatantly and subtly laments the administration’s poor response to the thousands affected by Katrina. You can listen to the song here, and if you missed the concerts, here's a great video glimpse.

This past week, a decision was made by a band that was nothing but conscientious, which is causing me to deem them the “Rockstars of the Week.” On Tuesday, Pearl Jam announced their Carbon Portfolio Strategy, which involves an investment of $100,000 divided among nine environmental organizations to support research and action. The investment, which the band hopes will help “advance preservation of existing ecosystems, restoration of degraded environments, and continued investment in clean, renewable energy technologies,” is part of the band’s goal to reduce their own impact, especially while touring (gas guzzling tour busses traveling thousands of miles are putting a dent not only on the environment, but also on band’s pockets—there’s a worthwhile article on this in the latest Rolling Stone which I seem to have misplaced…).

Not only are Pearl Jam trying to offset their own environmental impact, they are encouraging fans to become carbon-conscious as well. The announcement on their website encourages and invites fans to join the band in their efforts:

“We encourage you to identify and support leaders in your own community leading the charge for clean and renewable energy. In addition, we hope that you'll take a close look at how their daily activities contribute to the increasing amounts of carbon emissions in the air.”

The site also allows fans to be a part of Pearl Jam’s own Carbon Portfolio by making a donation through paypal (there’s a direct link on the site) to help support the nine organizations the rockers have identified. There are also links to several tools that help you calculate your own carbon impact. (Although, my favorite carbon calculator is still the one at stopglobalwarming.org).

Unfortunately, fans are probably not quite as excited about joining the band in thinking about carbon as they were to adapt grunge fashion 10 years ago (it somehow seems less rebellious, less cool, and well, less convenient than heading to the mall as a teenager). Yet there is a glimmer of hope that the trend toward environmental sensitivity can eventually become as ubiquitous as flannel shirts were in the 90’s. I'm not sure what it will take, but I'm certainly willing to join in the effort, and encourage others to as well. And hopefully there are a few of you out there who, regardless of whether you've outgrown your flannel shirts, will jump on this eco-rockin bandwagon too. Because if this earth gets any hotter, there won't be much need for flannel anymore.

if Larry David can care, you can too

One of the many efforts of avid environmentalist Laurie David is the website StopGlobalWarming.org, which touts itself as a "virtual march" against the causes responsible for global warming. It's a pretty useful website, with lots of suggestions and information on how you personally can join in on the efforts. My favorite part is the site's "Carbon Calculator" which unlike other calculators out there, starts at 0 and shows you your savings both in dollars and in pounds of CO2. This means that as you do more and more things that positively impact the environment, your score (and $avings) increase. The other calculators out there I've seen calculate how bad your CO2 consumption is, and then prompt you to donate the equivalent in renewable energy to offset your Co2 use, and I can't help but think that asking people to try to reduce their impact by putting it in terms of dollars saved rather than dollars you should have to spend somehow seems more encouraging.

The neat part is that by taking a quick moment to "join the global march" (aka register with the site) allows you to log into the calculator as many times as you like, updating it each time you do something positive for the planet. The site is chock full of small things you can do at home, when traveling, and even when shopping, and my favorite category "Everyday cheap and easy" (activities range in terms of effort and practicality, with everything from committing to use reusable bags to buying a hybrid car).

Of course, if you aren't encouraged to "join the virtual march" there are plenty of profiles of "featured marchers" (read: celebrities, politicians, and anyone else with a selling name), each with a personal statement of why they have joined the march. I found a few words of wisdom in a particular profile, which I'm hoping will resonate with the extraordinarily lazy (or at least with curb your enthusiasm fans).

So if Larry David can find ways to help the environment that he can deem "a perfect opportunity for the lazy man to do something good without having to expend any effort," there's got to be something that you can be doing too. For starters, I'll encourage you to join Larry (and Laurie) on this march. In fact, to make it incredibly easy, you can do it right from this blog--just look for the gray box on the sidebar.

A GREAT reason to care about global warming (if you haven’t bothered to care yet).

All I could say upon waking up this morning was WOW. Yesterday evening I was lucky enough to have taken part in a six-course wine tasting dinner at one of the top San Diego restaurants, and the tastes were still lingering on my tongue (or at least in my memory). For this I have a good friend to thank, as well as a good friend’s boyfriend, who happens to be the sous chef at the restaurant and who whips up a mean suite of hors d’oeuvres (specifically: smoked salmon canapés with American caviar, flash grilled oysters wrapped in prosciutto, malpec oysters chilled on the half shell, lobster bisque topped with lemon verbena foam, followed by a refreshing tomato water that effortlessly cleans the palate…I was happy before dinner even began). But before I start drooling recounting the delectable experience, I do want to convey what I found to be a tiny non-sensual highlight of the evening.

As the purpose of the dinner was to taste six wines featured from a small, family-owned Napa vineyard called Hill Family Estate, the owner and vintner, Doug Hill, took a few minutes before dinner began to present the wines and give us lucky guests a brief introduction as to how he got into the wine business and what life was like up in Napa. I was delighted to be introduced to the French word, terroir, which was used often in Mr. Hill’s description of the different grapes grown in his vineyards. Terroir, which is French for “soil”, takes on a specific meaning in wine-speak, and is used to describe the type of grapes that grow from a specific type of soil. It implies that the elements of a specific location—the type of soil, but also the altitude, amount of sun, nutrient density, drainage, and history of the land—have an enormous impact on the fruit that is grown there.

I couldn’t help but latch onto this word, and to begin to think about the significance of what it implies. “Terroir,” which is used to describe a group of vineyards that all grow under the same climate conditions, in one word immediately connects the wine to the land. It evokes images of workers toiling to pick the grapes, of the rain, sun, and wind passing over acres of vineyards, of the first buds forming on a vine that eventually will grow into the most perfect grape. Mr. Hill, perhaps subconsciously, seemed to be conveying his love and respect for the fact that it is the combination of elements—the land, the air, and the sun—that delicately interact and intertwine to create conditions that, when favorable, allow these tiny juicy fruits to be born from the soil. As he spoke his words barely concealed excitement as he explained that terroir does not necessarily need to refer to a region in general, but actually exists on a much smaller scale within vineyards themselves. The microclimiate of conditions can vary as much as every few feet in a vineyard, so that a line of grapes planted can have multiple soil conditions, and grapes at one end of a vineyard can have quite different growing conditions from their neighbors across the way.

It was refreshing to hear someone so connected to the land speak about how he had so much respect for it, as we often, I think, allow ourselves to become so far removed from where it is our food (and wine) actually come from. Grapes don’t grow in little plastic bags on grocery food shelves; they sprout from the soil of well tendered lawns, are carefully selected, and conveniently trucked across miles of highways to our local grocery. Finishing my third pour of wine, I contemplated how fascinating it was that the quality of an environment can have such a difference in the quality of the food that is grown there.

Cut to the next morning, when tired yet content, I slowly wake up. Checking my email, I find a daily update from Treehugger in my inbox (which I signed up for about two weeks ago) proclaiming that: GLOBAL WARMING WILL BE DETRIMENTAL TO THE WINE INDUSTRY (insert dramatic, scary music here). The culprit? The Greenhouse Effect. According to a new study published in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, the increased projected number of days during the wine season that will reach over 95 degrees in Napa and Sonoma counties (and elsewhere), affecting the delicate balance of climate and atmosphere that produce high-quality grapes.

In a July 11 article in the San Jose Mercury News about the study, I stumbled upon this quote, which I think says a lot if you think about it in terms of a much broader scale:

“ ‘This is a call to arms,’ said Karen Ross, president of the California Association of Winegrape Growers, which represents 1,000 growers in the state. ‘We need to pay attention now. We ought to start thinking about what can be done now to impact the severity of what might happen.’

That’s right ladies and gentlemen. Global Warming can affect YOU. Forget the fact that the planet’s atmosphere has been gradually increasing in temperature for decades. If it doesn’t affect us it doesn’t matter, right? The blissful ignorance of our convenient lives, having instant access to anything moments after we think of it makes it hard to think about “potentially” troubling times far into the future. Until something happens that makes us realize this might affect us directly, at which point we are suddenly concerned.

I want to take a moment to point out here that I am not so much criticizing this fact (in fact I cast myself in the same boat as the rest of you) so much as I think we should take advantage of it. The closer you can bring an issue to home, the more likely someone is to act. And that’s a good thing.

So I guess what I’m hoping is that with this post, the issue of a climate crisis comes that much closer to home for the percentage of people who happen to be wine aficionados who also are reading this blog. Anyone??

Well if this inspires you at all, here are some incredibly easy (think: using a Rabbit) wine-related suggestions of what you can do to make a tiny contribution to slowing global warming (of course there's lots more you can do as well...keep checking back for more non-wine ideas in later posts):

1. Open a bottle of wine, pour yourself a glass and savor the delicate complexity. Then contemplate whether you really want to deprive your great grandchildren of enjoying the exact moment you find yourself in (okay, this might be stretching it, but you have to get inspired before you act)
2. Conserve resources next time you buy or bring a bottle of wine. Spend $3-$20 on a reusable wine tote, here or here.
   
3. Walk, run, or take your bike to the store next time you find yourself needing to pick up a bottle or two, sparing the planet of the carbon emissions you’d release from driving.
4. Try an organic wine, or wine from an environmentally conscious vineyard, and show your support for companies that are sensitive to environmental issues. [note: I have yet to try an organic wine but if I find a lable worth tasting I'll be sure to announce it]
   

Why, if your boyfriend comes home with Styrofoam plates, it’s worth your time to return them.

First, Just a quick note that it’s worth checking out this week’s Newsweek cover story—which is on the gradual trend toward environmental sensitivity—if for nothing else than to hear about a few creative solutions to the challenge of sustainability. The article dotes on resource-conscious architects, environmentally sensitive cities, and farmers beginning to grow as much corn for fuel as for food. Of course, it also brings up the fact that corporate consultants and marketing guru’s have already realized that the portion of well-to-do individuals who care about the environment form a lucrative market segment, and with a bit of research and creativity there are an endless slew of “environmentally friendly” profitable enterprises to capitalize on this trend (I’m not so much a fan of this). But aside from the fact that there are entire organizations devoted to the opportunities that this “$227 billion dollar market” holds, as this article emphasizes, the issue of our planet’s health is a real one, and that its health is on the decline. Which is an important thing to be reminded of from time to time. And while a lot of the changes that need to come to help prevent this damage are on a macro level, I firmly believe that a multitude of individual decisions add up to something.

And in that vein, I find myself today wanting to put out a simple message. Avoid Styrofoam. This, I guarantee you, is in many ways an incredibly simple and easy thing to do. In other ways, it’s a bit more tricky, but you can always choose the easy route and still be doing something.

My inspiration for this comes after a little trip to the grocery store last week to stock up on food and drinks for a barbecue/bonfire on the beach. Splitting up in the store, I headed off to grab some lettuce while asking Conor to grab some paper plates. Meeting back up at the checkout line (where I pulled out my handy Green Bags to pack our groceries in), I noticed the plates passing over the scanner for the first time, and instantaneously found myself asking out loud, “you got Styrofoam??”

Before the words came out of my mouth, I didn’t realize that a distinction between Styrofoam plates and it’s alternatives in the grocery aisle even registered in my mind. I guess that’s because I never even considered selecting Styrofoam before. What seemed like an obvious thing to avoid I guess wasn’t so obvious to everyone, because Conor turned to me with an innocent and surprised look on his face, also not realizing I cared about the distinction among the various kinds of disposable plates.

While I’ve always been subconsciously aware that paper plates are better than Styrofoam, I couldn’t have told you specifically why. So I did some research. I also walked the 150 steps back to the grocery store and returned the plates.

Three facts about Styrofoam:

1. Styrofoam is non-biodegradable. As with plastic, Styrofoam never fully decomposes when discarded. And not only does it take hundreds of years to decompose, the small pieces are often digested by animals.

2. Styrofoam is difficult to recycle. Compared with plastic and paper, the facilities to recycle Styrofoam are quite scarce. While many recycling centers accept plastic, and many cities pick up plastic recycled goods with their trash services, Styrofoam recycling is fairly uncommon, And, unfortunately, in the absence of convenience recycling options much of the Styrofoam we use winds up in the trash.

3. The process of manufacturing Styrofoam is dangerous. Styrofoam is essentially made by blowing air into the plastic-like substance polystyrene, making it big and fluffy. Simple enough, however the actual process of doing so is not exactly pristine. According to EarthResource, "The National Bureau of Standards Center for Fire Research identified 57 chemical byproducts released during the combustion of polystyrene foam. " Partially responsible for this is the “blowing agent” involved in the process, which commonly contain hydrofluorocarbons (HCFC’s), which omit fumes that deplete the ozone layer. This is recognized by the EPA has actually mandated a phase-out of HCFC’s, banning them by 2030.

Furthermore, another element of Styrofoam production has been found to be hazardous to the health of factory workers, who may be exposed to dangerous levels. Styrene, which is the building block of Styrofoam, is toxic in high levels, with harmful health effects which range from irritation of the skin and eyes to affecting normal kidney function. The EPA and International Agency for Research on Cancer both classify Styrene as a “possible human carcinogen.”

So, what can you do instead? Here are 7 ways to avoid Styrofoam, ranked from easiest to, hardest.

No excuse not to:

1. Select another option. If you are in the grocery store buying disposable plates, simply select the paper ones rather than the Styrofoam. Paper is biodegradeable, renewable, and recyclable, whereas Styrofoam is 0 for 3.
2. Split a meal with a friend. If you suspect you might have leftovers next time you go out to eat, try sharing a meal with a friend and sparing the Styrofoam container you would have received with your leftovers.

Minute amount of effort:

3. Use reusable containers. If you picnic often or bring your work to lunch every day, consider buying a set of reusable plates or bowls. These can even be found just a few aisles down from the disposable plate section of your grocery store.
4. Ask for your leftovers to be wrapped in foil or plastic. If you are taking half a sandwich home there’s no need to use up an entire container, just ask for some foil to wrap it up in.
   

Only if you’re feeling up to it:

5. Recycle your Styrofoam. Even if you are able to incorporate all the changes above, there will probably be times you come across Styrofoam, for example, packaging of many electronics. Yes, it might be a bit of effort, but consider finding a local facility that recycles Styrofoam.
6. Suggest Styrofoam alternatives. Suggest that your favorite dining establishments use Styrofoam alternatives for take out boxes and containers, and perhaps even point them in the direction of companies that anufacture biodegradeable disposable products, such as those made by simplybiodegradable.
   
7. Demand alternative packing materials. Next time you receive a package or shipment packed with Styrofoam, send a letter requesting they look for alternative packing materials. Ecocycle.org has even put together a sample letter you can use as a template if you are really feeling lazy. Download it in MS word format here.
   

So now's the part of the post where if I were talented I'd sketch a stay puft marshmallow man-esque creature made out of Styrofoam and paste it here to remind you that Styrofoam=not good. But my artisitc talent's aren't my strong point so you'll just have to picture that in your head.

come as you are

hurray! I've started a blog. Now all I need is readers! So in what possibly might be a cheap shot, I am about to email a slew of friends and family announcing my blog.

So if you're visiting this site after receiving my email, welcome! Hope you look around and enjoy what is essentially evolving as "the environmentally friendly guide for the extremely lazy." Thanks for checking it out! And since I know that all of you have many lovely ways to spend your Saturday, I'm offering a reward for your efforts. The first person to send me an email or leave a comment on the site will receive their very own care package courtesy of yours truly, containing two zippered Green Bags for your shopping pleasure (for more about green bags, read yesterday's post).
Ok, I'm off to enjoy the great Southern California outdoors. Happy reading!

Day 1, or How I Begin to Save the World

Before beginning to describe my first eco-friendly change, I feel like I have to give a little bit of description of where I live and my "neighbor" to the right. I live in an apartment that borders an alley, and just to the right of that alley is the loading dock to an enormous Ralph’s grocery store. This means that the entrance to said grocery store is no more than 150 steps from my front door (out of curiosity, I counted yesterday). With Ralph’s no more than a two minute walk, I have gotten into the habit of heading there frequently, which at times can be up to 3 times a day (the record number of trips from my apartment to the store and back in one day taken by anyone staying or hanging out at my house is probably about 15). Really this isn't as bad as it sounds--I rarely leave the store with more than a handful of items. But what I realized is that I always return with at least two plastic grocery bags which quickly pile up in my pantry.

Now I've always known plastic bags aren't the best thing for the environment. In fact, I even recycle a bag full of them every few weeks or so. But knowing how often I go to the store, combined with the fact that each time I use a bag it is only to carry something a mere 30 yards, I figured there was really no need for me to be toting new disposable bags each time I felt the need to make a Ralph’s run. So I decided to do something about it.

But was it easy? Convenient? Could I do something about it and not take more than a few seconds of thought and very little extra effort? The answer, of course, is YES. I spent about an hour the other day searching for cheap and convenient reusable grocery bags that I could take with me each time I headed to the store. After a bit of searching I settled on the green bag, which is not only designed as a reusable grocery bag, it is made out of material that is recyclable as well. The bags are also non-toxic (which is great if you just toss fruit and veggies right in), non-allergenic and water/odor resistant.

And these bags cost only $3. I found them through EcoBags's website, and opted for the zip-up model, thinking it would encourage me to toss a bag in my purse wherever I went. Here's my bag stuffed with groceries, with another one zipped up by its side. Oh, and Slidell the cat is a big fan of the green bags as well.



So is this worth doing?

First, the facts:

Disposable plastic shopping bags are a convenience barely 30 years old. They weren’t introduced into grocery stores until 1977 and weren’t manufactured before 1973, according to the Film and Bag Federation. Yet in just 30 years they have managed to become so prevalent that the US alone consumes over 100 billion plastic bags a year (according to Earth Resource Foundation executive director Stephanie Barger). Why is that such a big deal?

Three key points about plastic bags:

1. Plastic bags are made from petroleum. Petroleum probably deserves a post of its own at some point, but in a nutshell it’s an environmental enemy for two reasons: the process of digging for oil is harmful to the environment, especially the ocean, and the process of burning oil for energy releases carbon dioxide into the air, which contributes to the gradual heating of the atmosphere, aka global warming.
2. Plastic bags are non-biodegradeable. This means that as they decompose, they break into smaller and smaller pieces but never completely disappear. Furthermore, those small pieces release toxins that get into the earth’s soil and water and are bad for you, me, and the animals around us.
3. Plastic bags are disposable, which means that after one time use we toss them in the trash, or worse, anywhere we see fit. Despite the scene in American Beauty where a plastic bag is cast in a poetic light, floating dreamily in the wind, the fact that plastic bags are lightweight and can easily fill up with air actually causes many bags to drift away, ending up on the beach, in the ocean, where they inevitably wind up in the belly of a sea turtle (who mistake them for food). (sometimes, being so close to the grocery store, discarded bags end up in my front yard too).

Next, the convenience:

Initial Effort: comparable to buying a book on Amazon. All you need is internet access and a credit card, and ecobags will deliver these to your door. (Plus they sent me a friendly follow up email the next week asking if I was satisfied, which I thought was nice)

Everyday Convenience: comparable to bringing sunscreen to the beach. Ok, it takes a tiny bit of effort to remember to bring the bags each time you go to the store (I still forget the bags about one in every 7 trips but i'm getting better). And sometimes you have to deal with confused baggers when you ask them not to use a plastic bag. But they weigh practically nothing, fit in your back pocket, and have handles for the trip back home. Plus they carry as much or more as a plastic bag (and actually the non-zippable versions are the same size as paper).

Feel good factor: comparable to dropping a dime in the homeless man’s cup who’s always parked on the bench down the street. Notwithstanding some awkwardness having to explain yourself to an occasional grocery clerks (although depending on where you live and what type of grocery store I imagine this could vary--southern California seems pretty used to this by now), you get the pleasure of knowing you are doing something good EVERY TIME you buy something. Plus at least in the stores by me, you get a 10 cent "bag credit" for not using a disposable bag. And even better, once in a while someone will notice what you are doing and say "hey, good for you!"

Impact:
So you've decided this is something you can handle. Or maybe you're still deciding. Either way, what impact does this actually have?

According to Stephanie Barger (see above), the U.S. consumes 100 Billion plastic bags a year, which comes out to roughly 552 bags per household per year. So assume you purchase just two green bags and lug them to the store every trip. With an average “Bag Discount” of 10 cents per bag, your purchase pays for itself in 60 trips to the store (which for me is about 6 weeks). And in just one year you have personally saved 500 bags from being used, discarded, and winding up as litter, poison to marine life, or decomposing in landfills, releasing toxic chemicals into the soil and water. Other statistics from the EPA:

· “In New York City alone, one less grocery bag per person per year would reduce waste by five million pounds and save $250,000 in disposal costs.

· When one ton of paper bags is reused or recycled, three cubic meters of landfill space is saved and 13 - 17 trees are spared! In 1997, 955,000 tons of paper bags were used in the United States.

· When one ton of plastic bags is reused or recycled, the energy equivalent of 11 barrels of oil are saved.

Overall, for $3 a bag and the mental power to remember to bring them each time, you personally will be saving over 500 bags per year; 5,000 bags in 10 years; or (assuming you are in your 20's and live 60 more years) 30,000 bags in your lifetime. Do you think that's worth it?