The Perennial Plate

Southeast Asia ain’t just for the meat eaters anymore. Yes, the bustling markets are full of pig heads, plucked chickens and even dog meat (in some cases), the real pho (you know, the stuff of Vietnamese foodie dreams) is made from stewed beef bones, and Im pretty sure I saw a live cow strapped to the back of a moving moped….but a vegetarian can find his or herself right at home there as well.

If you havent heard, Invasive Species are huge these days: both in the consciousness of sustainable food fans, and in the way they are ruining everything we’ve come to love (our crops, dogs, lawns, native fish, and overall ecology). I’ve had the opportunity to meet with a number of invasive species community members over the past 6 months, and I can tell you this — if you fall under the category of Feral Pig, Non-migratory Canadian Geese, Asian Carp, Florida Iguana, Garlic Mustard or Kudzu, stop reading this now and run and hide. Because everyone is trying to kill you.

Id imagined dumpster divers as angry anarchist kids, dressed in all black, who want to fight the big man by not paying for their food. I never expected it to be a guy my age with a good job and kids to feed. So when we got an email from “Joe” (he asked for his real name and occupation not to be used), I was confused and hesitant. But with Daniel by my side, gently pushing me to go outside my comfort zone (and in this case, into a large garbage can), I couldnt say no. Literally. I wasnt allowed to say no.

The people you love shouldnt try to change you. They should just take you on a 6 month road trip around the US, have you meet random people from the internet who kill things at a swamp in the middle of the night, have you sit on the back of a golf cart with a man wielding a .22 looking for iguanas, have you sleep in a cave/bomb shelter 12 miles down a canyon in Utah, make you go at least 5 weeks without doing laundry, and have you stay in a different bed each night — one which has bed bugs. That will change you.

Yesterday, on our way towards Immokalee, Florida to visit with Immigrant Farm laborers, we decided to stop into a Chipotle. We pride ourselves on not eating fast food, and have only stopped at 1-2 along the way (always either Subway or Chipotle, and always vegetarian). But there is something about Chipotle that makes me feel like Im not eating at a fast food joint. Their decorum of metallic, aztec-ish mosaics on the walls; smell of cilantro rice; and clean metal tables is familiar and comforting so far from home. Their moto is “Food with Integrity” (its right there when you pull up the website), and they pride themselves on working with small farmers (when they can) and providing good food. And it tastes good. So, we pulled off of interstate 41 without any guilt and stopped in for a quick bite.

There is something beautiful about Detroit. Its like those old decaying barns dotting the fields along country roads. They are slowly falling apart, beam by beam. They appear still, but you can see the movement of their descent: the delicate bend of the rafters, the graceful sag of the roof. They are frozen in time with new life all around them: the grass at their feet, the vines winding up their floor boards, the highways full of cars excitedly racing to other destinations. That is Detroit. It is full of elegant decay and destruction, and surrounded by a buzzing of possibility.