GULP: A REVIEW.
"Those who know the human gut intimately see beauty, not only in its sophistication but in its inner landscapes and architecture." - Mary RoachMy obsession with fermentation, and the effects of fermentation, have beget infinite curiosities over the years (approximately). But perhaps none have been more persistent than my interest in the workings of the human body––digestion specifically. How does it work? Why doesn't our stomach digest itself? Do I really need to chew? What happens to food before and beyond the gullet? So when a book appeared that explained said curiosities––to those of us who don't read Doctor––I saved my pennies and bought it.Then I learned and laughed. A lot and aloud. What Mary Roach has done with her latest work "Gulp" is a taken a mostly taboo subject––the alimentary canal and all it's fascinating goings on––and turned it into entertainment. In this book, Roach explores such themes as chewing, swallowing, digesting, and, ahem - the science behind the behind - then renders them riveting. In fact, "Gulp" is some of the most sophisticated and well-researched toilet humor I've ever experienced.The reader finds themselves thinking differently about saliva, gastric acids, etc., or the reader finds themselves thinking at all about saliva, gastric acid, etc.. You follow the history of each of these extremely fine-tuned inner workings in a book that is equal parts science and hilarity. Could Jonah actually have survived in that whale? How DO they get cell phones into prisons? What important medical advances has our cultural revulsion to feces inhibited? The answers to these questions and many more can be found in the pages of "Gulp"––found and thoroughly enjoyed.- Jesse.
COOKED: A REVIEW.
"We are the only species that depends on fire to maintain our body heat, and the only species that can't get along without cooking its food. By now, the control of fire is folded into our genes, a matter not merely of human culture but of our very biology."-Michael Pollan, Cooked
I enjoy Michael Pollan's work and have read all but one of his books, but when I heard about his new endeavor, "Cooked" (published by The Penguin Press), I was skeptical. I was skeptical because of the name—which sounded to me like the title of a bad chef memoir—and I was skeptical because of the premise. In "Cooked," Pollan apprentices himself to "a succession of culinary masters," in sections themed Fire, Water, Air and Earth. But that wasn't necessarily the source of my skepticism. Where I became dubious, was at the focus of the first section: barbecue.It's not that I didn't care about barbecue—quite the opposite when offered a good plate of the stuff—it's that I didn't know if I really cared to read about it. I thought we simply didn't eat enough meat to necessitate an education on the subject. In my mind, barbecue was a rare and decadent event where, more often than not, we put aside our ethical leanings, dump sauce over some factory-farmed pulled pork and make a mess of our beards, ideals and shirts, respectfully. And to some extent, my definition wasn't far off. But what I hadn't considered before reading "Cooked" was that my relationship to barbecue wasn't just some moral confusion and a few ruined items of clothing, but that I actually cared a lot more about barbecue than I realized.If Hannah and I don't start a fire, we don't eat hot food. And I would say it's this necessity that's rendered me downright obsessed with starting fires. Every day, I watch each fire burn, transfixed by the magic like a child at a puppet show. I observe carefully how different woods burn and smell, how the fire dances, drunk on oxygen, gorging on carbon. I relish the flavor of a squash licked by flames, cooked by the hot coals of oak. I enjoy this act in some sort of primordial fashion that I'd never questioned until "Cooked", until barbecue.And it didn't end at barbecue. Pollan goes on to explain our need and love for wood-cooked food, for food cooked in pots, bread and, my personal favorite, fermentation. "Cooked" turned out to be precisely the kind of book I wanted it to be (title notwithstanding). It was a book that connected me, biologically, to the act of cooking food, which is all I ever ask for in a book. I love to know why. Why do we cook? Why salt? Why cheese? Why beer? I could read books that simply answer "why" indefinitely, and the more of them written by Michael Pollan, the better.You can find "Cooked" online, but all books read better when picked up at your local bookstore (except for mine, which is paradoxically only online).- Jesse.
WHAT WE'RE READING.
We got this lovely set of books for Christmas! I have never read them, but Jesse loves All Creatures Great and Small....he is excited to read the rest of the series. These appear to be first edition, and as a BONUS - there are a bunch of newspaper clippings scattered throughout the pages! There is truly nothing like a good used book.
Here is one of Jesse's favorite quotes from All Creatures Great and Small...."Kit was a lorry driver... kept a pig at the bottom of his garden for family consumption. The snag was that when killing time came, Kit wept for three days. I happened to go into his house on one of these occasions and found his wife and daughter hard at it cutting up the meat for pies and brawn while Kit huddled miserably by the kitchen fire, his eyes swimming with tears. He was a huge man who could throw a twelve stone sack of meal on to his wagon with a jerk of his arms, but he seized my hand in his and sobbed at me 'I can't bear it, Mr. Herriot. He was like a Christian was that pig, just like a Christian.' " I am eager to get started! What are you guys reading these days?- Hannah.
HISTORY LESSONS.
This winter I've been trying to catch up on some reading and lately the theme has seemed to lead to a simple conclusion: you aren't just what you eat, you are, unequivocally, what everyone eats.I'm currently reading Timothy Egan's "The Worst Hard Time," on The Great American Dust Bowl. This is a period of our history when the government pushed Native Americans (masters of husbandry, those guys) off their land and encouraged farmers to move West. Millions of acres were soon plowed on what was traditionally, and naturally, perennial prairie grass. Wheat was planted heavily throughout the late 1920's with the blessing of the government, a booming economy and good weather. Then, suddenly as if by punishment, the economy crumpled and the rains stopped... for nearly 10 years.
Far too many parallels can be drawn between how we were treating the land and the economy in the 20's vs. now––i.e. roaring 20's/Great Depression/Dustbowl vs. Roaring 2000's/Great Recession/Great Drought––and that might not seem so scary if I weren't a farmer now. In a situation like the Dust Bowl, it simply does not matter how one treats the land if everyone around them is plowing it up like idiots (sound familiar?). And we can now throw pesticides, herbicides and fungicides into the mix and arrive at not only the possibility of a brutal air assault, but a lasting and effective attack on our ground water, our local wildlife and our health.Last week, in fact, the New York Times had an article about that very subject, how at least one community in California could no longer drink its water for the poisons it contained from the runoff of a nearby commercial dairy (somehow tainting ground water is legal?). I know a natural farm whose spring––which they rely on entirely for their drinking water––was recently compromised when the neighbors decided to plant their wonderful pastures up the hill to corn, an act which requires loads of herbicide. Herbicide will seep into the soil, then the ground water, then build up in our bodies if we consume it. When we eat anything commercially farmed, we have to acknowledge there is a family somewhere who can't drink their own water because of it. And increasingly, a country that can't either."At present," writes Wendell Berry in a recent piece for the Atlantic, "80 percent of our farmable acreage is planted in annual crops, only 20 percent having the beneficent coverage of perennials. This, by the standard of any healthy ecosystem, is absurdly disproportionate." If we as a culture continue to depend on big agriculture for our food, all food will suffer, because all farmers will suffer. Everyone loses. We need proper husbandry and land practices, absolutely, but we farmers can only do so much. If our neighbors are still getting subsidies and the corn and soybeans are still flying off the shelves (and freezers), they will continue to plant them with gusto. And if mother nature decides she wants to cut the rain for a while (seen any terrifying droughts around lately?), then we might not see a trickle down effect, the effects might just roll over us like dirt in the Dust Bowl. All of us.- Jesse.