Opinion

‘The Deceptive Simplicity of Peanuts’ ∞

November 5, 2019

Ivan Brunetti writing about Charles Schulz’s comic strip Peanuts is a perfect reflection of any culture, be it food or comic strips.

I especially liked this bit:

Peanuts has no discernible scale, because it exists simultaneously as small increments and a fifty-year totality, an epic poem made up entirely of haikus. Then again, maybe that’s also what life is: short, packed moments of intense, concentrated awareness, minuscule epiphanies that accrete as we age, an accumulation of efforts, some meaningful and some meaningless, moments all too real that unsettlingly feel somehow also not real, jottings taking note of everything, within and without. One life, all life. An isolated four-panel comic strip of Charlie Brown and Linus debating a philosophical point can be appreciated just as it is, humorous, insightful, compact, and perfect; one strip a day documenting one man’s thoughts for half a century has the weight of a full life. Peanuts endures, both from the closest micro-view and the farthest macro–vantage point.

Good meals exist forever. A perfect evening never fades. We’re all Marcel Proust falling through our memories with our version of a Madeliene cookies dipped in tea. Each bite can be much more than a bite. A bite can feel like a whole meal, make a restaurant, melt a city, build a culture, and create a new version of ourselves. Food is another wonderful opportunity to be ourselves, find ourselves, and change ourselves.

‘Why do People Hate Vegans?’ ∞

October 28, 2019

George Reynolds has a thorough and thoughtful piece for the Guardian about where veganism started, currently is, and it’s future. I liked this bit that shows that vegans have always been dreamers:

Early attempts to establish a vegan utopia did not go well. In the 1840s, the transcendentalist philosopher Amos Bronson Alcott (father of the author of Little Women, Louisa May) founded Fruitlands in Harvard, Massachusetts – a vegan community intended to be nothing less than a second Eden. But Alcott’s insistence that crops had to be planted and fields tilled by hand meant that not enough food could be grown for all of the members (even though the population peaked at just 13); a diet of fruit and grains, typically consumed raw, left participants severely malnourished. Just seven months after opening, Fruitlands closed – derided, in the words of one biographer, as “one of history’s most unsuccessful utopias”.

In a universal setting, veganism has to be plausible. It’s easy to dream that nothing and no one will suffer for a meal, but controlling those conditions is nearly impossible. It doesn’t mean that shouldn’t be an ambition. It means there needs to be a realistic understanding of what can be done. Being vegan can never exist under perfect conditions. Heaven has to meet earth at some point.

One thing that veganism rarely approaches is what meat means to the people who consume it and where that approach came from:

There is no justification for the amount of meat we eat in western society. The resources that go into humanely rearing and butchering an animal should make its flesh a borderline-unattainable luxury – and, indeed, in the past, it was. Meat always used to be the preserve of the wealthy, a symbol of prosperity: “A chicken in every pot” remained an aspirational but impractical promise across the best part of a millennium, from the days of Henry IV of France (when the term was invented) all the way through to Herbert Hoover’s 1928 presidential campaign.
It was only through the technological advances of modern agriculture that meat became attainable and available at supermarket prices. From the mid-1800s onwards, farmers could raise animals bigger, better and faster than in the past; kill them quicker; treat their flesh to prevent it from spoiling; transport it further and store it longer. A commonly cited psychological turning point was the second world war, which engendered what Russell Baker, writing in the New York Times, later described as a kind of “beef madness”. GIs were sent to the front with rations of tinned meat; once peace had been declared, there was no better symbol of the brave new world than a sizzling celebratory steak. In the course of just over a century, meat went from unattainable luxury to dietary cornerstone; these days, we feel entitled to eat meat every day.

And it’s been interesting to see how meat-eating has become a part of politics and in some ways performative:

But “they’re taking our meat” is as evocative a rallying cry as “they’re taking our jobs” or “they’re taking our guns” – it conveys the same sense of individual freedoms being menaced by external forces, a birthright under attack. Ted Cruz (wrongly) alleged that his Democrat rival Beto O’Rourke planned to ban Texas barbecue if elected senator in his place: like the personal firearm, animal flesh has become an emblem of resistance against the encroachments of progressivism, something to be prised from your cold, dead hand. Men’s rights advocate Jordan Peterson is famed for following a beef and salt diet; Donald Trump is renowned for his love of fast food and well-done steak with ketchup; there is even a subset of libertarian cryptocurrency enthusiasts who call themselves Bitcoin carnivores.

With the massive inroads that veganism has made in the last few years, it’s important to recognize it still has a long way to go:

Sales may be growing fast, but they are barely making a dent in the $1.7tr global market for animal-derived protein. Certainly, a change of culture will not happen without the involvement of government, industry and science; as the past few years have shown, widespread change is also unlikely to happen without a fight. This makes the current field of conflict an unfortunate one – in the real world, we can practise moderation, emotional flexitarianism.

Emotional flexitarianism is a beautiful turn of phrase and absolutely the way we all must approach each other.

‘Veggie-First Eating, and Thinking’ ∞

October 25, 2019

Alexandra Weiss for the NYTimes:

Veggie Mijas is a collective of over 300 nonbinary, female-identifying people and women of color in 12 chapters across the United States, and the group — originally founded by Amy Quichiz and Mariah Bermeo — facilitates community building through vegan potlucks, cleaning up community gardens and hosting youth seminars to teach children about the importance of growing their own food.
“Veggie Mijas is about reclaiming what a plant-based lifestyle looks like, which isn’t just about not eating meat,” said Ms. Quichiz, 24, a native of Queens, N.Y., who is Peruvian and Colombian. “It’s about what we can do for our communities, and about reflecting on the systems around us that impact the choices that we make.”

I’ve written about Veggie Mijas before, but I wanted to post this larger and longer story. This has some nice tips for new vegans from queer and people-of-color communities.

‘Wildseed is vegan — but don’t call it that’ ∞

October 25, 2019

Soleil Ho has been on a tear recently for the SF Chronicle writing about their vegan community. In her latest, this part on language pulled me in:

Though zealotry is a common negative stereotype about vegans, it’s interesting to see how a dietary proselytization is reframed at Wildseed. The purpose of the restaurant, whose owners are mostly omnivorous but spent some time eating vegan to better understand the idea, is to win over agnostics of an occasional vegan diet. There’s even explicit language in Wildseed’s promotional materials that ties that choice with moral and ethical goodness: “Wildseed offers guests a chance to make a better choice — a place where you can feel good about the decisions you are making,” the website states. Still, the language is soft and almost vague in its calls to action, refraining from doomsaying or calling out bad behavior.
The menu at Wildseed avoids using the word “vegan,” which leads to slight confusion when ingredients like sour cream and Parmesan are presented plainly. Though the menu does say that everything is “plant-based,” it’s reasonable for newbies to do some mental contortion and assume that sun + grass x cow = cheese. […] (Adding to this conceptual knot is the fact that mushrooms aren’t technically plants.)
[…]
When asked about this, the servers do their best to work around the terminology: “We don’t use any animal products,” they say.
They could save some words by just saying “vegan,” but there’s a point to this.
The approach is indicative of a burgeoning countermovement to veganism that has adopted its diet, but not its politics of disruption.
[…]
When asked about the difference between the terms, Mark Bomford, a farmer and director of Yale University’s Sustainable Food Program, said that it comes down to a value proposition: “vegan” and “meat-free” make you think that you’re abstaining or giving something up, whereas “plant-based” or “plant-strong” have more forward propulsion. “In terms of marketing communication, it’s about winning, not about losing,” he said.
Perhaps the key to Wildseed’s success is the fact that “vegan” and “vegetarian” can do double duty to describe both a product and a personal identity, whereas the comparatively more apolitical “plant-based” cannot. Its voice of persuasion is intentionally dulcet-toned, enticing like that of a siren.

As a descriptivist, this language in flux is confusing, exciting, and enticing. People, restaurants, and companies are still navigating these terms daily, and many are reaching new conclusions about how they want to phrase and approach the topic of veganism. Luckily, it all serves a greater purpose: more delicious food.

‘What the World Needs Now Is Anarcha-Feminist Vegan Chocolates’ ∞

October 14, 2019

Julia Tulsch spent the day and interviewed Lagusta Yearwood on her expanding vegan chocolate business:

“It’s hard for business owners because [people want vegan junk food], so why would you not make that stuff? But I don’t want my market to be vegans because that’s not activism for me. I don’t even want people to know we’re vegan. Because I want people to come in here — it happens, and I’m always very gratified by it — and just be like ‘Oh, that’s good food.’
“The way I think about it is that I’m a political person trying to run businesses from a political standpoint. Veganism is just a piece of that. You can get into a lot of trouble when it’s like ‘Oh, but it’s vegan!’ But that can leave out so many other ethical concerns. I don’t want to say [veganism] doesn’t matter. But it’s not The Thing. I feel like it’s one small component of an ethical life, you know?”

Yearwood’s background is fascinating, especially how her anarchist side affects her business—from putting recipes out so people don’t have to buy them and also letting employees have a say in what jobs they prefer doing around the shop.

Oat Milk ∞

October 11, 2019

When I read reviews of restaurants like Komi in Washington DC, like this one in the Washington Post from Tom Sietsema, I’m reminded of the relative newness of veganism. Especially to many chefs. And how things can shift overnight, overweek, overmonth.

It reminds me of what has happened with oat milk. The great Oat Milk. Our new liquid friend in the vegan community. A frothy and friendly beast that is splashed into coffees, espressos, and teas. Neutral and nice—and in only the last year, it’s become a staple in most coffee shops I stop by. It has a lovely body that is a great friend to many drinks. It’s common now, but only a year or two ago I had never seen it.

And things like this are happening in my life all the time. Daw Yee Myanmar Corner, one of my favorite restaurants in LA, makes a lentil tofu. Foodies is now making a tofu out of pumpkin seeds. And there is Chickpea tofu too.

This part of the review makes me hungry for that exploration:

The first marvel is a tiny taco whose dark filling, hidden beneath shredded lettuce, is a ringer for ground beef. Playing the meaty role, however: ground black walnuts imbued with a housemade version of Old El Paso taco seasoning. Close behind the treat is a souvlaki featuring mushrooms that have been sliced paper-thin, marinated, layered and pressed for a few days before they’re threaded on a skewer and seasoned with oregano. Along for the joyride is a dreamy mustard dip.
[…]
The grandest illusions are the gyro and the not-fish fillet.
The former is a magic trick coaxed from tofu skin, griddled at different temperatures and times to achieve a gyro’s signature crisp edges, then bundled in pillowy pita.

Walnuts. Mushrooms pressed for many days. Griddled tofu skin. These new uses are special developments. One small step for veganism, and (possibly) one giant leap for vegan eating.

These fresh explorations and their best uses hasn’t been seen, but time will be our friend. Komi sounds like it’s exploring vegetables in new impressionistic ways. It reminds me of Superiority Burger of New York City. (SB is in LA soon!) These restaurants are changing our future meals, whether we know it or not. Each experimental dish they make could be the next plant-based heartthrob and staple of our homes.

‘Going Vegan Won’t Save the Planet’ ∞

October 10, 2019

Mark Buchanan with an op-ed for Bloomberg:

At a recent food festival in Wales, I witnessed an enlightening discussion between two experts on the future of farming. Chungui Lu, a Chinese native who is now a professor in the U.K., spoke on the promise of vertical farming — high-tech indoor vegetable farming capable of producing more food per acre than traditional farming. In contrast, Patrick Holden, a traditional yet visionary Welsh farmer, argued for the human and ecological benefits of small-scale farming for the local sale of meat, cheese and vegetables produced using fully organic methods.
Their ideas seem to reflect a clash between technology and tradition. But I came away thinking that neither offered a solution by itself. Our problems are so deep and diverse, and multiplied by local variations in culture, weather and human density, that no one solution will suffice. We’re going to need many.

I’d imagine that someday soon we’ll see a new term for this distinction. There are too many facets of veganism that clash over the idea of what veganism encompasses. Right now, it seems to me that ‘veganism’ is a label for people doing it for the animals while ‘plant-based’ is often people doing it for personal health reasons. Thankfully both are aligned in the way they eat — and that means a reduction in animal use. This openness to understanding how we affect the world around us is the key takeaway.

From the ecological perspective, Holden said, the meat-versus-vegetable distinction isn’t the right one. Both can be produced in environmentally helpful ways as well as harmful ones, with the latter becoming the norm over the past half-century of industrial farming. Vegan and vegetarian diets may be good for CO2 emissions, but their blind pursuit can exacerbate other issues. He gives one example: It doesn’t help the environment to eschew a local organically grown egg in favor of tofu produced with intense pesticide application on a soy plantation carved out of the Amazon rainforest.

For me, eating vegan food means eating a meal that attempts to reduce the net suffering of animals. But understanding how to categorize and consider what happened to the earth to make that meal is a new facet. There are rarely labels that mention sustainability or some hint about the overall distance the parts of my meal had to travel to reach my plate. Every mile effects CO2. Each part an addition. And all of these things play a part in the future and I hope we can find a way to approach food menus and labeling in some way to indicate that.

‘Veganism: to hate or not to hate’ ∞

October 7, 2019

Sandhya Sivakumar writing for the Daily Illini succinctly expresses what makes veganism important to the moment we’re in now:

Veganism’s issues aren’t all that straightforward. It stands at the crossroads of elitism, racism and sexism, yet at the same time it brings together sustainability, compassion and activism.

This is exactly what makes our current conversation compelling, enlivening, and tricky—all at the same time.

‘How I Got My Toddler Interested in Food and Cooking’ ∞

October 4, 2019

This J. Kenji Lopez-Alt peice for Serious Eats is excellent. It’s meant as a guide for raising a child around food, but I use a lot of these techniques all the time. Mostly in introducing my friends and family to new vegan items or ways that plant-based things can be substituted in dishes people are already making.

Don’t Use Negative Words About Food

Bingo. Simple. I try to only show meat-eaters delicious things. It’s okay if they don’t like it, but I’m always trying to use language that makes the food approachable and appealing to them.

Let Them Taste Everything

This is probably the most important tip. If I go to a restaurant and I know they have an incredible vegan thing on the menu, I offer folks around me a bite — and if there are lots of people at the table, I might even order another of that dish. I want to share. Sharing takes the risk off of them and let’s them live out the dim-sum-tapas lifestyle we all dream of.

Encourage Thoughtful Eating
[…]
It engages all the senses—kids can feel texture, taste flavor, smell aroma, look at color, and listen to the sounds of cooking and eating—and it comes with built-in stories, whether those stories are just about how it got from the supermarket to the table, or the actual history of the dish.

When I’m showing off new vegan foods, how I prepare it and pair it is a massive part of it.

Don’t Worry Too Much
If there’s one guaranteed way to get my daughter to stop eating, it’s to upset her.

And this is the biggest one. I try to not upset my table. I think most vegans I know are afraid of the p-word, aka being called preachy. And I don’t want to preach to the dinner table. Often one person will ask, “Why are you vegan?” and I’m happy to answer that question — but it’s difficult in a group setting. In my experience, people don’t love talking about how animals get to their plates, and — being honest — I don’t either. Although most might be comfortable with my answer, I don’t want to make anyone feel bad about the food they just ordered that hasn’t arrived at the table yet. And I also don’t want to engage anyone whose hangry-ness might be flaring up.

My go-to answer is a joke because I want people to feel at ease. When people ask why I’m vegan, I usually say because I like being the most difficult person in the room.

Start Them Young!

I liken this to expecting some folks might be a bit more thorny when you first approach them. I’ve had many friends who immediately became defensive when they found out I was vegan. For some, just hearing that someone doesn’t eat meat seemed to make them uncomfortable. It became an immediate one-way interrogation, but that was okay. It’s a little weird when people come at you like that, but it’s something we can all handle. And, I think if we handle it well, it often changes their tune. One of my friends, who early on had been defensive, now asks me to cook my vegan mac n’ cheese for them every time they see me.

Essentially, I use this advice to mean the earlier you introduce vegan food to their life the sooner they’ll be receptive. This has been the case with almost all of my friends and family. Initially, it’s fear then apprehensive then they try something delicious and it’s “oh, this is vegan?!“. It just happens slowly. Give everyone time to learn new ideas and change their mind.

‘Are Burgers Really That Bad for the Climate?’ ∞

October 2, 2019

After Tad Friend’s New Yorker piece, a few folks on the internet contested this line:

“Every four pounds of beef you eat contributes to as much global warming as flying from New York to London—and the average American eats that much each month.”

Justin Fox writing for Bloomberg helps clear up the confusion:

That last bit is actually an understatement: per-capita beef consumption in the U.S. was 4.7 pounds per month in 2017, according to the U.S. Department of Agriculture.
[…]
With help from an explanation by the article’s author, Tad Friend, I have since been able to get to four, although only by using a flight-emissions calculator that delivers much lower numbers than the others I consulted. The source of Friend’s estimate for beef’s climate impact was one I had already come across: a December 2018 article in the journal Nature 1 that put it at 188 kilograms of carbon-dioxide-equivalent emissions per kilogram of beef. That’s based on the weight of the carcass, about 70% of which actually makes it onto people’s plates, so 269 kilograms of emissions per kilogram of beef was the number Friend used.
At either 188 or 269, this is a lot higher than other estimates of beef’s per-kilogram impact that have been making the rounds. The Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations (whose estimates are discussed in more detail below) says it’s 48.7 kilograms, carcass weight. Researchers at the U.S. Department of Agriculture recently put it at 21.3 kilograms for U.S. cattle operations. A 2012 survey of past studies by Dutch government researchers found a range of 9 to 122 kilograms. Nine kilograms carcass weight is about 13 at the grocery store. Compare that to the flight-related emissions calculated by the Swiss nonprofit myclimate and it would take 70 kilograms, or 154 pounds, of such beef to equal the climate impact of an economy flight from New York to London.

Why do the estimates vary so widely? A lot depends on how the cattle are raised. Modern intensive agricultural methods are usually judged to be more climate-friendly than traditional or organic ones — a finding that deserves a separate exploration. But in the case of “Assessing the efficiency of changes in land use for mitigating climate change,” the title of the 2018 Nature article, the really big differences have to do with, you guessed it, assessing the efficiency of changes in land use. Which is worth diving into, because it so nicely illustrates the complications of any such calculation.

Calling it now: calculating the efficiency of beef and its relationship to our environment is going to be America’s new favorite wedge issue. I look forward to it dividing yours and my Thanksgiving tables annually.

Opinion

✏️ by C. W. Moss