seasonal circles

The lovely Courtney made some great comments on this post, and my feelings in response are complicated (read: long-winded) enough to deserve their own post. She said:

I'm trying to find the balance between what works for me and my family's health without completely throwing out local eating. I'm not good at sticking to a local diet because of the restrictions on fresh food here in the winter, but I wish I could be. I've been wondering lately how our bodies are meant to handle the seasons with vitality, and while I think increased meat in the winter is okay, aside from preserved produce, I can't think of what else we would eat to get nutrients. I don't like the idea of vitamin supplements in general, but without fresh fruit and vegetables, I don't see an alternative . . .

I'm getting better (and lucky) at finding local sources for my favorite grain alternatives and dried beans though, even if they aren't natural to the area (is that a problem?) And I'd also like to think that I shouldn't need coconut oil in a place where it can't grow, but if I live by that code, I'd have to move tropical because it just feels so much better to eat this way. And lemons! What would I do without lemons?

I do fully believe that small local agriculture and meat is the large scale answer and that it solves a lot of problems that are worth solving, but what if it doesn't solve MY problems. Are canned vegetables and fruits really good enough to carry us through half the year?

For a while now I've wanted to write a post about seasonal eating as it relates to winter foods, because I think it's natural, when considering a seasonal diet, to feel some panic about winter. No peaches? No corn? No bell peppers? At first glance, that's a kind of deprivation for generations reared on the concept of having whatever we want, whenever we want it.

I've hesitated to write that post, however, for the simple reason that I live in a completely different climate from many of you. Even folks up in Humboldt County, three hours from me, live in a subtly different microclimate that produces a different local experience. Certainly three hours inland there's a particular environment that differs from mine. And that's just the counties immediately alongside mine. You live in Alaska, Germany, Oregon, North Carolina, Costa Rica, New York, Los Angeles, Canada, Florida, Kansas, Montana, Ohio, Switzerland... all over the place. And I would be seriously remiss if I assumed that what's local to me is local to you -- especially because I live only two hours from where the majority of U.S.-sourced food is grown.

The local food movement sprouts largely from the Bay area, one of the most hospitable food-growing climates on Earth. When I lived in Utah, I felt by turns infuriated and defeated by the suggestions on local food coming out of the Bay area. How nice for a Berkeley resident that she has year-round farmer's markets and a culture that broadly supports localized food development and artisan niche manufacturers. What about the rest of us? But this same judgment could now be made of me. I can't tell you exactly what you should eat from where you live. It's all relative. But here are some general suggestions based on general winter conditions.

  
What grows in the winter?
Plenty of greens, cruciferous vegetables (like broccoli and Brussels sprouts), and some root vegetables can be grown, even in the snow -- cold frames help this effort.

Sprouts can be grown year-round, indoor, by absolutely anybody, so if you're severely short on green vegetables, sprouts can fill the gap. Fresh herbs can typically be grown indoors as well.

Depending on your area, you can also find a variety of winter fruits, like pomegranates, citrus, persimmons, kiwi, apples and pears (stored from autumn), and cranberries.

And some wild meats and fish can be captured in the winter. On the other hand, eggs and dairy products are actually seasonal foods (though it's hard to think of them this way given factory manipulations), and not particularly plentiful in the winter.

What can be stored through the winter?
Hard squashes; cabbages; root vegetables like potatoes, beets, carrots, kohlrabi, rutabaga, celeriac, and sweet potatoes; onions and garlic; some varieties of apples and pears; and all sorts of nuts, seeds, grains, beans, and peas, plus honey or maple syrup.

What can be stored from other seasons?
Here's where it gets dicey, because canned fruits and vegetables have almost no nutritional value. So to answer Courtney's question, no, I don't think we should depend on them -- though they can add color and flavor to otherwise bland winter fare. And canned prepared foods can be very useful -- soups and jams, for example, or sauces and salsas.

But what about cultured foods? Fermenting fruits and vegetables helps to retain and even increase their nutritional value, and in very cold months they might not even require refrigeration and could be stored in the garage or an improvised root cellar.

Frozen foods are much healthier than canned, so if possible we should be careful to store corn, peppers, tomatoes, green beans, summer squash, eggplant, tomatillos, asparagus, berries, peaches, plums, apricots, cherries -- whatever our favorite warm-weather foods may be. But even if we don't have the space, materials, time, or money to preserve foods, I'd still venture that it's healthier and more sustainable to buy frozen foods, which were stored in season, than fresh versions shipped in from all over the world (or grown in greenhouses).

And that brings me to my major point, which is the simple fact that we can't do everything, all the time. Nobody can. I can pretty well guarantee that there is no individual in any industrialized country who provides for every single one of his or her food needs from within an ultra-localized zone. Neither do I think this is necessary -- from an historical perspective, trading existed long before oil dependency and corporatized globalization. So instead of approaching this ideal so rigidly, I like to think of my consumption in terms of radiating circles. And oh how I wish I had an actual fancy diagram of this, but I don't know how to do such a thing. So I'll just try to explain it as I see it.

The innermost circle is where you actually live. Maybe it's your town or your county or even your state (though I can't reasonably see it that way in California). Within this circle is all of the foods you can eat locally, from farmers and farms you know. This is where you'll find small-scale meat, dairy, and eggs, most of your seasonal vegetables, some fruit, maybe nuts and seeds, possibly even grains and beans, depending on where you live, and of course everything you can forage, scavenge, fish, or hunt for yourself. For me, I like to think that something like 80% of my food will come from this circle, but I have the extra complication of having the Central Valley so close nearby -- food from there might be "local" but it probably is not sustainable, so I need to consider that.

The next circle could be labeled "regional." Maybe this will extend to the rest of your state or even a handful of neighboring states. This is where I source winter fruits, organic rice, olive oil, and some other basics. Ideally another 10% of my food would be regional.

The next circle could extend out to the whole country -- foods from far away that are still domestic. So Courtney, in Idaho, might get olive oil or lemons from California. I'd consider that an improvement on olive oil from Spain or lemons from Chile. I love those Texan red grapefruits -- those sit squarely in my third circle. My salt comes from Utah, my beans from the Midwest. Perhaps 8% of my foods will be domestic, but by no means local or regional. (Yes, I'm pulling these percentages from thin air -- I have no idea how to quantify them, but hopefully they're fair as rough estimates.)

The final circle is global. These are the foods we need to carefully consider, because they come from places where laws regarding labor, chemicals, and compensation could be seriously unethical. We're incredibly distanced from the planting, raising, harvesting, and distribution of these foods, which means there's little to no accountability due to us, the ultimate consumer. So this is a good place to focus our fair-trade dollars. Coffee, tea, sugar, chocolate, vanilla, and bananas -- these industries are subject to massive abuses and so their products should be purchased organic and fair-trade. Luckily it's fairly easy now to find them that way.

Coconut is another popular imported food, as Courtney mentioned in terms of coconut oil. Coconut products are extremely popular with "real food" enthusiasts. I still adore a good curry, so I buy organic coconut milk, and when I'm feeling rich I use coconut oil. But I'm hesitant of that lack of accountability for the exploding coconut market, and I live in an olive-producing area and also have access to good pastured butter, so it's easy to cut back. This might not be so simple for Idahoans, so Courtney's global circle might be bigger than mine -- and that's okay.

Another layer to this is the concept of circles of influence vs. circles of concern. Generally speaking, we can have the greatest influence on our local agriculture. With a focus on small-scale production, not only do our farmers lose their homogeneous anonymity and become real people deserving of our respect, but we, the consumers, are less anonymous as well. Through personal interactions, we learn from each other, and change accordingly.

In circles of concern, though, we have less influence. Even with "conscious consumption," we can't do much to alter NAFTA or labor laws in Thailand. We can buy organic, and support developing fair-trade economies, but these are distancing experiences -- important, but less effective, and certainly less empowering.

I want to use my friend Jenni as an example of how these circles might work. Jenni lives in Alaska, where indigenous cultures are still present, and demanding that their land and traditions are respected. She can assist in that endeavor by maintaining the natural local diet rather than supporting imports of foreign food (and the resulting loss of skills and independence). So her innermost circle could include a wide variety of wild or domesticated meats and fish, plenty of berries, and some roots and greens. That's what would be most widely available in a very cold environment. But she might reach outward for spices, grains, and beans, and even further for vegetables or dairy, especially in the winter months.

On the other hand, my friend Jana lives in urban Southern California and could have most anything she wants, any time she wants it, except, perhaps, the best kinds of animal products, for which she might need to reach out to regional areas. The landscape of Southern California has shifted faster than almost anywhere on Earth, but in this center of globalization Jana still has the opportunity to support a tradition of small farmers.

I think if we all viewed our consumption this way, as layered circles, we could approach the goal of localization with some rationality, and more forgiveness of both ourselves and others. Ideally, a majority of our foods with be sourced within the innermost circle, the one in which we actually live -- but just what exactly those foods are will vary from region to region, like Jenni up in Alaska with her moose and salmon, and Jana down in SoCal with her lettuce and satsuma. And we might be more or less dependent on outer circles during certain times of the year, or because of money or accessibility.

Localization is a process. It's easy to feel defeated in the winter. Forget that -- it's easy to feel defeated for the simple reason that we have to study up to find out what can be grown where we live! We have to fight for this, the simplest of truths about our immediate environment. But we're taking action, making steps big and small. Localization is a genuine movement now, and I'm pleased to be a part of it while it's still a privileged lifestyle choice instead of a painful involuntary transition (which I've no doubt it will be some day).

For now, it's less about the lemons and more about the larger intention. Find your own circles, and do your best. That's all there is.