Short Story Delight

Sometimes I get so caught up on things I have to do or want to do that I forget to read. When I do read, I seem to be turning more to non-fiction than anything else (who would have guessed?), so that when I do finally remember how much I enjoy narratives, they come as soothing balms that take me to worlds other than my own. And short stories? They are like literary tapas, tiny morsels of delight, easily grasped in one bite, all the more powerful for their brevity.

It was such a pleasure, then, on a recent flight, to gorge on the short stories in The Best American Short Stories 2002. With authors ranging from Michael Chabon to Arthur Miller to others of whom I had not heard, these stories were eclectic and delightful. And what made the whole experience more charming is that this was a book I picked up from the library on a whim during one of those rare days when I ventured outside the office.

In Defense of Food

Who would have thought food needs defending? And yet Michael Pollan manages to do just that in his acclaimed book In Defense of Food: An Eater’s Manifesto. The book’s recommendations appear in the first sentence (and on the cover): “Eat food. Not too much. Mostly plants.”

Pollan book makes the case for these dicta in three sections. The first traces the rise of “nutritionism,” the ideology that what we should eat can be reduced down to a set of studied nutrients, the proper proportions of which will be made known by technocrats. It was in this section that my biggest beef with the book is most prominent: Pollan seems to blame “science” in general for our sorry nutritional state, and in so doing almost appears to have a neo-Luddite reverence for the Wonderful Way Things Were. I think his case would be just as strong if he focused the blame where it belongs: in an industrial era hubris that we were unlocking all the mysteries and could synthesize the perfect way to live, in an industry concerned with profits above all else, and in a government that finds it hard to resist lobbying. That recasting of blame out of the way, his chronicle of the history is informative and his conclusions sensible.

The second section explores what makes the “Western diet” (actually, the typical American diet) so bad. He cites:

  • The shift from whole foods to refined
  • The shift from nutritional and chemical complexity to simplicity: over and over we think we’ve identified all the crucial nutrients, only to find out later that there’s something else, or some unknown synergistic effect that we don’t understand.
  • The shift from quality to quantity
  • The shift from leaves to seeds, the latter of which are more calorie-packed but don’t contain the same diversity of nutrients
  • The shift from food culture (your family and environment telling you what to eat) to food science (the high priests of nutrition pronouncing that you need this or that nutrient).

The third section contains recommendations for the individual food consumer. He suggests that we abandon the “Western” (sic) diet and take the time to get to know, prepare, and savor real food slowly, as other cultures do. Specifically, we should

  • Eat food. This means real food, not “food-like substances”:
    • Don’t eat anything your great-grandmother would not recognize as food
    • Avoid food products containing ingredients that are a) unfamiliar, b) unpronounceable, c) more than five in number, or that include d) high-fructose corn syrup
    • Avoid food products that make health claims
    • Shop the peripheries of the supermarket and stay out of the middle to get the fresh food and avoid the pre-packaged goods.
    • Get out of the supermarket whenever possible and go instead to farmers’ market or your own yard. Get to know your food source.
  • Eat mostly plants:
    • Eat mostly plants, especially leaves. Near-vegetarians are just as healthy as vegetarians. Leaves are less calorie-laden than seeds.
    • You are what what you eat eats too: the value of your own diet depends on the value of the diet that your own foodstuffs consume. Pastured animal foods are much more nutritious than grain-fed animal foods. [And indeed, the eggs that we recently bought at the farmers' market had bright orange yolks from, apparently, the beta carotene in the green grass.]
    • If you have the space, buy a freezer so you can shop in bulk and in season at the farmers’ market and have good food year-round.
    • Eat well-grown food from healthy soils. Organic [is that where the food term comes from?] rather than chemical fertilizers are best for the plants and the entire food chain, including us.
    • Eat wild foods when you can. They have to be versatile and defend themselves from biological predators, and are likely to have a wider variety of healthful nutrients as a result.
    • Be the kind of person who takes supplements (that is, someone concerned about their health), but then save your money (except for a multivitamin as you get older).
    • Eat more like the French. Or the Italians. Or the Japanese. Or the Indians. Or the Greeks. Just eat foods the way cultures generally have, because they have accumulated and tested preparation knowledge over the years that turns out to be quite effective in extracting nutrition from their comestibles.
    • Regard non-traditional foods with skepticism
    • Don’t look for the magic bullet in the traditional diet. Whole dietary patterns appear to matter much more than isolated nutrients.
    • Have a glass of wine with dinner.
  • Don’t eat too much:
    • Pay more, eat less. Quality over quantity.
    • Eat meals. Stop snacking already! Sit down and make the meal a ritual.
    • Do all your eating at a table. A real table.
    • Don’t get your fuel from the same place your car does: no gas stations.
    • Try not to eat alone.
    • Eat slowly, both literally and in the Slow Food sense.
    • Cook and, if you can, plant a garden. Get to know your food.

This was an informative, inspiring, and fun book to read. Recommended.

Good citizen

Today after I work I went to a meeting at the library. There, a (surprisingly small) group of neighbors got together to meet with our state senator and talk about legislative priorities and issues on our mind. It was a good way to learn about issues in Olympia and across the state, and to provide feedback on our view of things.

Turkey transformation

Add Turkey Slaughter to your calendar for tomorrow?

So prompted GMail in a recent e-mail thread. The occasion: a demonstration Knox and I were attending at a local farm to see how turkeys get killed.

This all started way back in the summer, when friends of ours on Capitol Hill decided that (why not!) they would raise turkeys for Thanksgiving. Knox and I were game. We bought into the co-op, and sporadically visited the turkeys as they grew. Now, with Thanksgiving around the corner, all the co-op members are getting ready for the kill—except we’ve not really done this before.

Knox, however, managed to find a post on Craigslist for a free-range farmer who allowed folks to purchase his birds and kill them on the spot. We attended one such event as mere spectators. Knox’s agenda was learning how to become our turkey butcher (I’ll be blissfully working at the time). My own purpose for going was to test my ethics in facing the source of my animal food.

And so, there we were, watching tukeys get knocked out, killed, and prepped. I’ll spare you the (slightly) gruesome details. I will note one, though: the magic step is the plucking. Take the feathers off the dead bird and it becomes instantly recognizable as a food item.

Tomorrow, Knox became the turkey-killer-in-chief. As for me, I think there ought to be better ways for animals to die. I’ll be edging a bit closer to vegetarianism once again.

This, my friends, is a plucker

Pops

Pops, the giant rabbit

There is a new addition to the Gardnovsky Gardens, and its name is Pops. Knox came back from a mysterious errand in Tacoma on Saturday with a rabbit. A giant, obese rabbit. We later found out (thanks to What Breed is my Bunny?, of course) that it is a fawn-colored Flemish giant.

Apparently, his biography looks something like this: he got his name because the kid he belonged to thought he was the color of Corn Pops. He shared his cage with a cat. The kid lost interest, the cat was given away, the rabbit was lonely. He’s been living outside, unfazed by his barking canine neighbors. The previous owner, a veterinary assistant, decided he was neglected. One Craigslist posting later, Pops came to join Galli at the Gardnovsky Resort and Spa.

Pops is awfully cute, but certainly needs to go in a diet: his jowls are all too conspicuous when he relaxes, all splayed out. We keep him in a rabbit hutch outside, which hutch will be graced with an HGTV-style addition before our own house will. We’ve been bringing him indoors every so often to look at him and pet him, and he seems to enjoy that just fine. He and the cat have been sniffing each other out (and I mean that literally; Galli is intrigued by Pop’s butt). Galli remains suspicious, staring at Pops in her focused huntress mode. Pops is laid back, knowing he has the advantage of size.

So far, our major complaint is that when he comes inside, Pops likes to poop (perfectly formed soft pellets) and pee (brownish syrup). We need to get him housebroken and using a litter box. He’s got a scat kink going, too: he’ll wallow in, sniff, and eat his own pellets, and he seems to quite enjoy stretching out in his own urine. Sigh. As much as I enjoy him, I’ve instituted a new house rule: you bring it home, you take care of its excrement.

Man and Bunny